Iverson quietly makes his exit

March 3, 2010

The 76ers cruised to a big, 19-point defeat in Atlanta on Wednesday night, which in the scheme of things is probably for the best. The Sixers are the very embodiment of a team that is damned if they do and damned if they don’t. The team could very well catch fire over the final 23 games and sneak into the last playoff spot.

Think about that for a second — a No. 8 seed means at least two extra home dates with LeBron James and Shaquille O’Neal in town. That’s two sellouts for folks to come watch another visiting club instead of the hometown team.

That’s the point though, isn’t it? The Sixers aren’t good enough to get those extra two games against LeBron and Shaq, and they aren’t bad enough to make a difference in the lottery. If that doesn’t explain this team, nothing else does.

But now they don’t even have a hook or an angle. Oh sure, basketball junkies might want to tune in to check out how Lou Williams, Jrue Holliday and Thad Young fare the rest of the way, but your common, everyday sports fan who is simply interested in the wins, losses and not the nuance of it is likely gone.

Not that they were hanging around too much this season to begin with.

See, Allen Iverson is gone. Oh sure, we’ve strolled down this path before, but really, Iverson is done. We mean it this time. Not that we didn’t mean it before, like when he was traded to Denver, sent to Detroit, allegedly causing scenes in riverboat casinos and then signing on for Memphis for just three games. Hell, by this point we’ve probably written the story about Allen Iverson’s last stand in the NBA three times already. Truth be told, the guy was probably done when he bailed out on the Pistons late last season.

This time though it really is over because no other NBA team is sillier than the Sixers. Sure, the cynical types might look at the December signing of Iverson as a way to sell a few more tickets, which really didn’t work out quite like everyone had hoped. After all, that line about not being able to go home again wouldn’t be a saying if it wasn’t true.

Still, nothing has changed. One minute Iverson was here, the next he slipped away mysteriously. This time there was no trade, indefinite suspension or any of the old standbys. Instead, Iverson allegedly left the team because his four-year old daughter is sick with an undisclosed illness. Actually, not only hasn’t anyone spoken about the girl’s illness, but even those usually in the know say the information is particularly cryptic.

That makes it easier to understand this end for Iverson. When the health of a child or family matters is the concern, everything else seems pretty unimportant. Let’s just hope for the sake of little Messiah Iverson that the doctors can figure this out.

Forget about the fact that Iverson went away for five games, missed the All-Star Game, came back for a couple of games before disappearing again only to turn up at a benefit in Charlotte. The truth is Iverson’s departure not only was typical of him and the exact opposite of his entrance at every stop of his career, it is also indicative of how Sixers’ almost always go out.

Think about it for a second… aside from Julius Erving (who had been offered up in a bunch of alleged trades during his waning years, including one for the No. 3 pick in the 1984 draft… Chicago smartly decided to keep the pick), which Sixers player went away on good terms?

Let’s go through the list… Wilt was traded. Moses and Barkley were traded, too. Andrew Toney had the injuries and the battles with management, while Mo Cheeks was traded away but wasn’t told until he found Michael Barkann waiting on his doorstep. When a player and the Sixers are really done with each other, usually that’s it. After all, aside from World B. Free there aren’t any old-timers hanging around the games. Sure, fences get mended and everyone gets back on good terms, but when it’s over it’s over.

There’s no going back.

Sure, we’ll see Iverson again. The Sixers will probably put his No. 3 in the rafters next to Wilt, Mo Cheeks, Barkley and Doc, and Iverson is undoubtedly a Hall of Famer. We’ll surely see him at the induction ceremony.

But what we won’t see is how Iverson deals with life away from basketball and the spotlight and the adjustment that sometimes is so difficult. We also won’t know about how he handles the family matters that have besieged him, though we can only hope he comes out ahead.

No, there’s no way to practice for where he is headed now.

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PODCAST EPISODE NO. 3

March 2, 2010

I imagine musicians get a complex when they are about togo into the studio and hear a recording of Jimi Hendrix. Jimi, as we all learned in school, was a force of nature. He was like Mother Theresa and Genghis Khan all rolled into one when he held a guitar in his hands. How can anyone measure up to that, the musicians must think. Jimi was playing hard ball and everyone else is just trying to bat it off a tee.

That’s the way it is for us sentence writers when Bob Ford and Mike Sielski walk into the room. Oh sure, it might sound like I’m blowing smoke, and you know what… I kind of am. But whether they know it or not, those guys know how to work a room and when they say things people have no other people have no choice to but to take the words to heart.

So when Bob told me, “You’re awful,” well, I just couldn’t write it off. After all, I have never known Bob to be wrong. Ever. The fact is, he is smarter than almost every person you know. The same goes for Mike, too. If he isn’t right about something, he can explain why better than anyone out there.

But Bob is a good sport. He came into our little show, drank his beverage, ate his ham sandwich and participated in a lively discussion about everything. He even taught us about physics and the international dateline. The same goes for Sielski, too. The guy is an author of a book. Better yet, Mike wrote a real book like a real author and not some nonsense about lists of perceived greatness according to some guy and his faulty memories. Who wants to read that? Moreover, who wants to chop down trees to print those pages?

Put it this way: Mike has contributed to our culture and our collective discourse. Mike has a legacy.

And with that, the gang got together for the third episode of our little dog-and-pony show with two heavyweights. Once again we talked about the Olympics and hockey as well as Allen Iverson and the idea of exclusivity and media semantics.

Bob told a story about his days from hanging around with Charles Barkley and Mike just said a bunch of smart things.

Oh yeah, Dennis Deitch was back and offered a life tip, while Dan Roche stuck around long enough to offer some well-reasoned points about the local basketball team. But guess what… Ol’ Dan bought a house last weekend, too. Real estate bubble my ass…

Meanwhile, Sarah Baicker and I just tried to keep up with all the wizened souls we brought into our lair.

Here take a listen:

PODCAST NO. 3

Also, keep sending in those comments and whatever else. Check out the page we have on Facebook, too. You’ll be glad you did.

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Tuning in (then tuning out?)

March 1, 2010

Even in defeat the loss by Team USA to Canada in the gold medal game of the Vancouver Olympics was pretty impressive. Forget the fact that Ryan Miller, the losing goalie, was the MVP of the tournament or that the team had about 72 hours to get together before it played its first real game. These things just belie the point.

Yeah, the United States is a big country and that means we should be good at a lot of things that require mettle and brawn. The pool from which draw from for athletics is very deep and it’s not outlandish to think that some of the best athletes in the country are playing the wrong sports. For instance, think if LeBron James, all 6-foot-8 and 270 pounds of him played soccer. How would LeBron look running around like a freight train on the pitch amongst veritable waifs like Ronaldo or Beckham? Those guys wouldn't stand a chance.

Or what if all that time in Italy as a kid pushed Kobe Bryant toward soccer instead of basketball? Soccer, of course, is just one example but there are thousands of different scenarios out there that could have changed the sporting landscape.

Most of the variables involved here have to do with economics and geography. Basketball doesn’t cost a lot of money to play. Better yet, it doesn’t even require another person. Try playing baseball or football by yourself. Trust me, it’s not much fun.

Hockey is the worst of the bunch. A kid can’t play it by himself, the equipment is ridiculously expensive and the necessary elements required to play are difficult to find in 80 percent of the country. In fact, I remember wanting to play hockey when I was a kid until I learned that in order to get ice time at the one rink in town, practices had to start at 5 a.m. I imagine ice time is even more difficult to find in the southeast and southwestern parts of the country.

The point is hockey is not our game. We’re not ingrained to think about becoming hockey players when we’re kids because not only is it not a part of our culture (except for in certain regions), it has set up roadblocks of participation. It's a regional/fringe/cult sport, but so what. Isn't it more fun to have something of your very own?

So hockey in the United States has a lot working against it, but the national team somehow always is vying to be the best in the world. Twice the US has won the gold medal at the Winter Olympics and twice in the last three tries, Team USA lost to Canada for the gold medal.

How can Canada ever lose in international hockey? If Canada were to lose in hockey to the US it would be much, much worse than if the US team did not get the gold in basketball. Considering the percentage of kids that grow up playing both sports in their respective countries, Canada should dominate every hockey competition the same way the United States should dominate every basketball competition.

And yet in Canada they were dancing in the streets after the team hung on to beat the Americans in overtime. They had all they could handle in a hockey tournament that as close to a US invasion the Great White North will see baring a mass encroachment at the border to get those reasonably priced prescription medications and Cuban cigars they have.

Indeed, give the Canadians credit for the hockey acumen, high standards of living, quality health care, cheap drugs and the ability to travel to Cuba. We’ll take hoops, nicer weather, all-you-can-eat buffets and the fact that we don’t spell words like “color” oh so annoyingly like, “colour.”

We know what the gold medal hockey game means to Canada (everything), but what does it mean here in the US. Sure, the OT loss was the third-most watched hockey game ever—behind the 1980 Olympics game against the USSR and the gold-medal game against Finland—but how will that translate to the NHL?

How about this… it won’t.

Hey, I could be wrong, but I don’t see anything in common between the Olympics version of hockey and the NHL. One has to do with national pride in the only understandable team sport in the oddity that is the Winter Olympics, and the other used to get national TV ratings worse than women’s softball and the WNBA. Oh sure, there is a large and vocal hockey contingent in Philadelphia. In numbers they might not be as great as the folks more interested in the traditional American sports, but they make a lot of noise and spend a lot of money.

However, just because the US lost a thrilling game to Canada doesn’t necessarily mean Flyers’ fans are going to tune in to watch Detroit vs. Colorado. After all, the Phillies open up their Grapefruit League schedule on Thursday against the Yankees and Denver plays Phoenix in NBA action tonight.

When’s the next Olympics?

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'Oh, but they are HUGE in Syracuse...'

February 27, 2010

SYRACUSE, N.Y.—Perspective is an interesting thing. OK,that’s not exactly the deepest statement ever typed[1], but maybe I’m going somewhere with this… sit tight.

Anyway, we drive up to Syracuse this morning to get some more Marriott points, take a nap and then head over to the Carrier Dome to take in this clash between the Orangemen and Villanova that’s going to be all over the TV tonight. Apparently Bobby Knight is going to be at the game, too. Oh yes, it’s that big.

Aside: So far I haven’t been able to bribe a college kid to walk over to him and say, “Hey, Knight, what’s up?” Sheesh… kids today.

Actually, it’s such a big deal up here that they made up a whole bunch of t-shirts that say, “Beat Nova” on the front and something about how the game is expected to be the biggest attendance for an on-campus basketball game in the history of on-campus basketball games. More than 34,000 people are going to be in the Dome and they aren’t even using all the space on one side of the joint. That’s how big (size) the building is.

Nevertheless, they are freaking out for the game. Folks suggested we head over to the Dome a good four hours before tip-off because traffic and parking was going to be a huge issue. When we got here we found a bunch of people tailgating inside of an indoor parking garage, which doesn’t do much for ambiance but it keeps the snow and sleet out of the pony bottles of Genesee Cream Ale.

We got here to find a veritable Woodstock of college basketball with people milling around, seeking out tickets and trying to wedge into bars to overpay for watered down beers before going into the stadium to pay even more for watered down beers. Actually, in that sense maybe Woodstock is the wrong analogy. Let’s just call it the Burning Man of college hoops for the day.

So what’s all the hype for? What is it that has all these Central New Yorkers forging a path through the snow in well worn duck boots? It’s not even March yet, for Pete’s sakes. Hell, the Philly media didn’t even bother to send more than a handful of folks to cover the game because, A.) The dead tree types have deadlines (the web sites do too?) and B.) It’s in Syracuse and it’s Saturday night. What’s there to do in Syracuse on a Saturday night other than watch basketball and shotgun Genesee?

Besides, there’s really not much at stake. If Syracuse wins they have a virtual lock on the regular-season Big East title and a No. 1 seed going into Madison Square Garden for the tourney. Better yet, with losses by No. 1 Kansas and No. 2 Kentucky, Syracuse (No. 4) could vault into the top spot in all the land.

Someone cue Casey Kasem.

If Villanova wins then the Big East is all tied up with two games to go. If the tie holds by the time the Big East Tournament rolls around, ‘Nova has the tie-breaker. Better yet, a whole bunch of people go home as angry and disappointed as the two kids I saw at the will call window who were told that the tickets they bought off eBay for $250 were counterfeit.

Talk about a buzz kill.

Regardless of all that, this game really doesn’t mean all that much no matter who wins or loses. For top teams like Syracuse and Villanova the season doesn’t really begin for another week or two. Oh sure, it would be nice to win and all of that, because no one really likes to lose[2].

But you know what? This one is all a matter of perspective. In another month if either ‘Nova or Syracuse are still playing will anyone remember what happened in the Carrier Dome on Feb. 27?

I sure as hell will not.

[1] And if it is, I win! Take that, Deepak Chopra.

[2] Even the Washington Generals don’t like to lose. I asked some of them about always getting smacked around by the Globetrotters and it wears on them. Add in the bucket of confetti and it’s downright humiliating.

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Don't mess around with Jim

February 26, 2010

It’s always fun to see what type of things go “viral” on the Internets from day to day. Often, one little piece of code, dressed as a link, can be consumed, chewed up and passed by before the traditional media even gets a whiff of it. Clearly that makes things so much more fun.

So consider the bit of text/video making the rounds today on ex-Phillies pitcher and baseball Hall-of-Famer, Jim Bunning, who these days is known for holding the position as senator from the Commonwealth of Kentucky.

Not to delve too deeply into the issue, but the old pitcher and retiring senator is single-handily holding up the extension of unemployment benefits to more than a million Americans that were to start next week. Surely the senator is concerned about deficit spending, but the head-scratcher is that no one on either side of the aisle seems to understand what he’s up to or how to decipher this, from Politico:

On the floor Thursday night, he breached Senate protocol when he shouted out: “Tough s—” as Democratic Sen. Jeff Merkley pleaded with him to drop his objection.

Or this gem from the ol’ ballplayer himself:

I want to assure the people that have, heh, watched this thing until quarter of twelve — and I have missed the Kentucky-South Carolina game that started at 9 o’clock, and it’s the only redeeming chance we had to beat South Carolina, since they’re the only team that has beat Kentucky this year — all of these things that we have talked about and all the provisions that have been discussed, the unemployment benefits, all these things. If we’d have taken the longer version of the job bill…we wouldn’t have spent three hours plus telling everybody in the United States of America that Senator Bunning doesn’t give a damn about the people that are on unemployment.

Look… he’s says it right here:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9noyufiMS0&w=425&h=344]

So the fact that there is an unemployment rate pushing toward 11 percent in Kentucky is of less importance than the regular-season matchup between Kentucky and South Carolina. Be that as it might, Bunning's last stand reminded me of a funny story I wrote about him as well as a conversation I had with the senator during the last home opener at The Vet in 2003.

Here’s what I dug up from my archives and sent along to Meech over at The Fightins:

On my way to the press box lavatory, I literally ran into Jay Johnstone. No one was hurt, but the first thought that popped into my head when nearly trampling the Dodgers’ broadcaster was, “Hey, I read your book when I was a kid.”

The book was called Temporary Insanity and it wasn’t too bad for jock-lit. There were plenty of good stories about all the crazy things baseball players like to do in their free time, including some of the finer details about Johnstone’s time as a Phillies farmhand where he spent most of his energy terrorizing his manager Jim Bunning.

Bunning, of course, is currently the senior Republican senator from the Commonwealth of Kentucky, and based on a conversation I had with him in 2003, he still has not let go of the mental anguish Johnstone caused him.

My favorite story from the book was when Johnstone caught wind that Bunning had been trying to nail him for any team rule infraction he could. So just to steam his manager even more than already necessary, Johnstone spread the word that he was organizing a wild, beer-drinking and card-playing night in his room at the team hotel. Bunning, as planned, got wind of the party and thinking he was finally going to get his chance to burn Johnstone once and for all, the manager showed up at the room after curfew only to find Johnstone sitting on his bed and reading a book.

Funny, right? More exasperating for Bunning was when Johnstone looked up from his book at the angry figure in the doorway and said something like, “Hiya, skip! You’re out kind of late, aren’t you?”

As the story goes, Bunning stormed out of there chapped that he couldn’t finally stick it to Johnstone. However, later the future senator got the last laugh. During that conversation with Bunning in 2003, I asked him about Johnstone and he told me that when the Phillies’ brass called him about the best player on his team he immediately told them about the guy who had been a bee in his bonnet. As a result of that, the Phillies called up Johnstone from the minors and he went on to be a valuable left-handed bat for the team.

“I was finally rid of him,” the senator said.

Oh yes, a win-win for all.

It doesn't sound the least bit unreasonable to surmise that because Bunning couldn't hack it as a minor-league manager or control Jay Johnstone, he went on to be a U.S. Senator.

Yeah...

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Slip sliding away

February 26, 2010

So far my favorite part about the Olympics is when the curling people slide on the ice with those crazy shoes they wear. They aren’t skates and aren’t really athletic shoes, either. Yet somehow the curlers (really? Are they “curlers”) get around with some sort of funky propelation. It’s like they have some sort of modified bowling shoe or something.

Not to denigrate the curling competition or the Winter Olympics as a collective, but I really don’t get it. OK, maybe I get it, but just don’t see the allure. There that’s better. There are millions of people tuning in every day to watch the events, which is baffling. Who watches taped/staged events and what is the appeal of curling?

Look, I like to watch track & field events and marathon racing, so I’m hardly innocent here. But to me curling looks like shuffleboard with ice and lots of cheating. If I were interested in such a thing, I could just go to the Sunny Valley Retirement Village and watch the residents go at it in those cutthroat tournaments they have on the pitch next to the clubhouse. Word is the shuffleboard scene at Sunny Valley was like the fights Michael Vick used to hold in his blacked out garage in Virginia.

Only bloodier.

OK, kidding aside the thing that stands out most about these Olympics is that they seem to be lasting forever. Flip through the dial and one can catch glimpses of someone slippy sliding away on the curling, or back-flipping high above the mix way up in the air, or, maybe even playing hockey. It’s kind of fun to stumble on these things rather than the standard fare offered during the course of a broadcasting day. Besides, who wouldn’t rather watch the overwrought drama of a curling match than the hang-wringing (faux) indignation from Olbermann on MSNBC.

I know we have a list of things that have jumped the proverbial shark—like Wing Bowl, for instance—so it’s only fair to put guys like Olbermann and his ilk (on both sides) on the list, too. Poor Keith is only being mentioned here because his show has been bumped around in order to broadcast curling.

Anyway, that’s about all we have there… the Olympics are on and it seems like they have been lasting forever. The thing is, I’m kind of comfortable with that. It makes me think about Jim McKay.

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Big, stupid numbers

February 25, 2010

Whether they tried or not, the Eagles just couldn’t make the numbers add up even though they don’t look so complicated from a first glance.

The numbers, 30, 8, 7.5 million and, most importantly, 2 were trickier to solve than a Rubik’s Cube or even the daily online Sudoku puzzle. Sure, the first three are easy to make fit but when one mixes in that 2 the entire puzzle just fell apart.

At age 30 with eight hard years already under his belt with a $7.5 million on paper owed to him next season, Brian Westbrook became just another number to the brass behind the Eagles. Oh, there’s nothing complicated about an All-Pro running back at Westbrook’s age and experience that should scare off anyone. However, those two concussions he had in less than a month last season ruined the math.

Frankly, that sucks.

No, that’s not because Westbrook was cut by the Eagles (largely because of those concussions), though that is part of it. The disappointing part is that the Eagles’ move exemplifies the ugly reality that we must bear…

We’re all just numbers. That’s it. Somewhere some guy is looking at an Excel spreadsheet without an inch of an emotion or an inkling of knowledge of any of our traits, and that guy is making decisions on all of our futures. Is that the way it should be? And if so, why not train a chimp or build a robot to do that guy’s job.

We like sports because they are an escape. When it comes down to it, it’s entertainment or just one big soap opera that lasts for a long season, but never really rests during the hiatus. So when real life issues like downsizing slides into it from the cold-hearted and emotionless corporate types that run the Eagles, it kind of ruins the whole enjoyment of it. Who wants the local football team to be just like every other business in the country? Not me.

One of the reasons why I dislike fantasy football isn’t the nerdery of the enterprise, though that doesn’t help. Instead, who wants to pretend to be an owner of a team and have to make decisions without emotion? It’s not real, but it kind of is at the same time. You root for numbers, not people.

Numbers lie more than people. They are much more easily manipulated, too. Crunch them and push them they way you wish and numbers will say anything you want them to. They’re cheap, precise and stupid and who can respect that?

So the reason why Brian Westbrook was unceremoniously waived by the Eagles all comes down to the numbers. In fact, Westbrook said he was expecting a call from the team to ask him to take a pay cut or restructure his contract. Well, they restructured it all right—restructured it by dropping it into the office shredder.

“It’s just the fact that you don’t wanna be released,” Westbrook told CSN’s Derrick Gunn. “I have spent a long time in Philadelphia, since ’97—I started in college and had eight years with the Eagles. So you have some type of uncertainty going into the future. I was surprised by the news but at the same time it is part of the business.”

Yep, part of the business. It doesn’t matter that Westbrook was a model employee and the epitome of professionalism. It also doesn’t matter that he pretty much spent the entire 2009 season resting from a knee and ankle injury plus those two concussions, which means he doesn’t have the mileage on his body like your typical 30-year-old running back.

Westbrook says he wants to play in 2010 and he likely will have plenty of job prospects, so no one should feel sorry for the new ex-Eagle. Sure, the Eagles run a money-making machine, but the NFL is an industry unlike the others that are routinely casting off hard-working and professional people. Westbrook very well could end up in a better situation than he was in with the Eagles. That hardly seems farfetched when one looks at Westbrook’s digits.

“A lot of things you lack physically, you make up in the mental aspect. That doesn't mean you can't compete at a very high level,” Westbrook told Gunn. “You see Brian Dawkins, he played here until he was 34 or 35-years old, then went out to Denver and played at a very high level. It can be done. It takes a special player to be able to do that. I have that will to do it, that desire to do it. I am going to train as hard as I can this offseason to come back and show people that I can still play.”

At least there is one aspect of the business we can all respect—if a guy can do the job, there will be a place for him in the NFL. They got that part right.

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PODCAST EPISODE NO. 2

February 23, 2010

We were all over the map in our epic Episode 2 of thePodcast of Awesomeness, which is something we’ll get into in a moment. However, it should be noted that two shows into the run and we were snubbed for the first time ever…

SNUBBED!

No, I can’t believe it either. However, for one reason or another, John Gonzalez of the Inquirer [1]could not attend the taping of the show because he had to do something for work. No, I’m not making this up even though I wish I was. Can you believe the ego on that guy? Oh sure, they mention his name before the curling broadcast on NBC, but whatever.

Curling? Seriously… the guy thinks he’s too good for us because of curling?

Sheesh!

Here’s how lame Gonzalez is—a guy schlepped all the way into our office to be on the show in the rain and messy weather and he is actually going to be a guest on Jimmy Fallon’s show on March 8 the day before his band’s latest record hits the streets. That’s right, we had Chris Wilson from Ted Leo & the Pharmacists in to talk with us and hang out and he’s a guy that toured for a bit with Pearl Jam.

Curling vs. Pearl Jam? Do we really need to answer that question?

I kid Gonz because I can. He’s really one of my favorite people I know (just ask him), so this is all written with love. Besides, he once wrote an entire column for the Inquirer about the time he wanted to punch me in the face. When it came out people asked me if I was upset by the column and I said, "No. Why would I be upset? He really wanted to punch me in the face."

Still, whatever curling boy. Have fun listening to Verne Lundquist say your name.

Anyway, Sarah Baicker and I had been talking all week leading up to this show that we might have to end the podcast because there is nowhere else for us to go but down. That’s hyperbole, of course, but there is a major difference in what happened in the debut compared to the second time around. For that we have to thank Tom Finer for stepping in to man the board and mix all the voices together so we don’t sound like we’re shouting into one microphone.

This time we had six microphones for six people, so we’re stepping up.

So listen in as we talk with Chris about his upcoming tour and the new record from Ted Leo & the Pharmacists called, The Brutalist Bricks. Better yet, pre-order it now and check out the touring schedule and make sure to check out a show when the band hits a town near you. In fact, one of the requisites of listening to this pod show is to purchase the new Ted Leo & the Pharmacists record. Just do it already, because if you made a record I’m positive Chris would want to buy it, too. Support the arts, chrissakes. The record won’t cost you as much as a beer at a ballgame and you get to keep it and play it over and over again.

So once you’ve gone to the Matador Records site and pre-ordered the record, listen to us chat about Brian Westbrook as we offer Jayson Werth beard-grooming tips, ponder Allen Iverson’s legacy, update the Olympics, lament the epic suckitude of the bands Nickleback and Creed, and re-live the time Dennis Deitch rendered Stephen Colbert speechless.

Oh yeah, and Dan Roche got up and walked out (again) and Mike Radano inexplicably showed up (again). I’m sensing a theme…

Here you go:

AWESOME EPISODE NO. 2

Also, keep sending in those comments and questions. We had planned on reading some of them on the air this time around, but it got lost in the shuffle because I had wind-shield wiper issues and showed up late. Actually, the truth is I forgot to bring it up but because I respect you guys so much I felt compelled to make up an excuse.

Nevertheless, if you keep sending in emails, we’ll read them on the air next week when author Mike Sielski will be a guest along with another person we are currently negotiating with.

Oh yes… it will be HUGE!

[1] They still chop down trees and toss them onto people’s porches? Seriously, they still do that? I mean, this year begins with a 2 and they still chop down trees and send them to people’s homes with words on them. Amazing.

photo swiped from Brooklyn Vegan

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Catch a Tiger...

February 22, 2010

I haven’t written much about the Tiger Woods pressconference from last Friday mostly for the same reason why I don’t write much about pro wrestling. Hey, it’s tough to take something that looks so fake too seriously.

We’re just keepin’ it real![1]

Nevertheless, the Tiger Woods presser seemed to be made for Twitter in a Mystery Science 3000 kind of way. Man… how did we get through some of these things before Twitter?

Another aside: I glean all I need to know about a person’s personality from their Twitter updates. Some of you need help and/or a transfusion of sorts. I know all about the kettle and the pot (yadda, yadda, yadda), but I mean, really…

Anyway, the best story in the wake of the Tiger-ness was in Time magazine in a piece about Olympic skier Lindsey Vonn. It is because of this story (when coupled with the work in a recent SI issue) that Vonn jumped up a few notches in the “Unofficial Finger Food list of cool athletes.” [2]Who knew she had such a wicked sense of humor?

Granted, I haven’t seen much of the Olympics outside of the hockey game on Sunday night and the Johnny Weir skating travesty from last week (he wuz robbed!), but the only things I knew about Vonn is that she skies, she’s tall, she’s been pictured in several magazines wearing outfits not appropriate for skiing, and she won a gold medal despite an injury. That’s it.

Who knew Vonn was so funny? Why wouldn’t NBC do one of its dramatic features on Vonn standing in front of a brick wall and a couple of ferns while killing it during a 20-minute set at the Ha-Ha Hole? And if she’s not doing standup, why isn’t she?

These are important issues.

Anyway, the part in the Time story that was grabbing was when Vonn did a press conference in Vancouver shortly after Tiger had finished with his manufactured mea culpa last Friday.

Check it out:

And like millions of Americans, Vonn can't help poking fun at Woods' staged event. When a member of her Vonn-tourage tells her that Woods gave a few friends hugs after ending his statement, she cracks, “They're like, ‘Yeah, you're awesome, you go have that sex.’” The room breaks into a laugh. Then she describes a skit she would want to perform if asked to host Saturday Night Live: picture Vonn at Woods’ podium, blue backdrop and all. “There's something you don't know about me,” Vonn says in a faux solemn, apologetic voice. “Tiger, you're like my idol, and I too have a sex problem.” More laughter. “That would be freaking funny.”

What does she mean by “would be?” It is freaking funny!

Hey, if we can’t make fun of celebrities on Twitter, what else do mopes like us have? But to hear that an Olympic gold medalist would probably be right in the middle of it with us, well, that’s your Olympic spirit right there.

Lindsey Vonn: Olympian. In more ways than one.

[1] Do people still say that? Really? Probably not.

[2] Not an actual list but I’m sure it will be developed at some point. After all, if something isn’t fun/funny, I have a hard time taking it seriously. Is that a contradiction or an oxymoron? I think it is, but I’m standing by it.

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It was 30 years ago today...

February 22, 2010

We do hyperbole very well in sports. In fact, I’ll wager we do overwrought drama and gross overstatement better than Hollywood. Thinkabout it—where else do folks immediately attempt to place an event in some sort of historical context the second it ends?

Something always seems to be the best this or the worst that and it’s kind of weird. Who thinks that way? What are they trying to accomplish or validate? Hey, no one wants to be told they are wasting their time so maybe this is a way of pumping up our own choices or something.

Either way, sometimes we actually do get things right. Oh sure, we’ll miss the nuance of something and place too much importance on the less worthy, but then to go the other way, we point this out in overrated/underrated debates.

Oh yes, everything gets covered.

Here’s what is properly placed where it belongs:

The Miracle on Ice.

Yes, the consensus held top sports moment of the 20^th Century (in the U.S., of course), is neither overrated nor underrated, which is rare. How many other events/players/games can make this claim? How many sporting events actually transcend sports? Thirty years ago today in Lake Placid, we had one of those events that was so perfect no one bothers to question its place in sports history.

Here’s what interesting about the U.S. hockey team’s victory over the mighty Soviet juggernaut from Feb. 22, 1980—it meant something bigger than itself yet did not pump hockey into the American consciousness. American sports fans were no more interested in hockey after the game than they were before. I could be wrong here, but in the 30 years since The Miracle on Ice, hockey might even be less popular in terms of American sports interest. As far as American sports leagues go, the NHL might be fifth or sixth in overall popularity and that depends on whether big-time college sports is considered professional or not.

In other words, the game changed nothing and was simply a context-free game. Sure, people will say it was a manifestation of the Cold War played out as some sort of microcosm and all of that, but wasn’t that what Berlin was?

Here’s what else is cool about that one hockey game that didn’t even win the U.S. a gold medal (that came two days later against Finland): all the guys from the team are still around and are completely bearable. Yeah, Herb Brooks died in a car accident a few years back, but his legacy is still as bright as ever. Plus, invariably we grow tired and/or leery of people overexposed by the media. However, in this case that isn’t so. Every time the Winter Olympics roll around we get to hear from Mike Eruzione, Jim Craig and Mark Johnson, maybe even Dave Silk or Jack O’Callahan will come out, too. Yet for some reason it’s always interesting even though we’ve seen the movies and documentaries, read the books and the magazine articles.

An aside: If I recall correctly (hey, I was in the 3rd grade when it happened), the first time I heard those now ubiquitous "U-S-A!" chants was during the hockey competition of the 1980 Olympics. If anyone has an earlier instance of this occurring, by all means, correct me.

It was just one of those things. Chalk it up to being a cultural phenomenon or the sports equivalent to The Beatles going on the Ed Sullivan Show. When it happened people knew it was something pretty special and decades later that hasn’t changed much.

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Now you see them...

February 21, 2010

A couple of my favorite Olympic moments are a few thatmost folks didn’t see. For instance, in 1996 I stayed up to watch the finals of the men’s 5,000, which was shown live in Atlanta but long after prime time. Then again, that’s how it is for track and distance-running fans—we’ll take scraps and we’ll like it.

What was so notable about this particular race was that American Bob Kennedy boldly dashed out from the pack running ever-so tactically to take the lead in the race at the backstretch of the final lap. It was an insane move by Kennedy not because he would quickly be swallowed up and passed by the superior African runners, but because of the big ones it took for him to go out there like that.

I can remember watching the race in the middle of the night and yelling at the top of my lungs when Kennedy burst into the lead. Actually, it was more like a girlish shriek and as soon as it sounded out it was over because Kennedy’s surge was actually a wake-up alarm to the rest of the field. But for a slight flicker of time, Bob Kennedy, the U.S. record holder in the 5,000-meters, was the baddest runner on the planet.

Second to that was the gold medal basketball game between the U.S. and Spain during the Beijing Olympics of 2008. If I recall correctly, the game was one of the few that was shown in real time from China, which meant it started at 1 a.m. in Pennsylvania. Since the U.S. was heavily favored, my plan was to watch the first half or until the game was safely put out of reach and then I would go off to bed. But that plan hit a snag when the game turned out to be just too darned entertaining.

So instead of sleeping I was wide awake and riveted by how the Spanish team countered every run and stand by the U.S. team. Then I found myself doing something I never thought I’d do…

I cheered for Kobe Bryant.

I couldn’t believe it either and I immediately picked up on the hypocrisy of it all. If this were an NBA game on any other night of the year, I would reflexively root against Kobe. Who wouldn’t? He said all those mean things about Philadelphia, rooted for the Mets as a kid and the Dodgers against the Phillies, and pretty much is the most arrogant and biggest jackass in sports. Plus, as rightly described by Bill Simmons, Kobe was like the wolf from the movie Teen Wolf, who took all the shots and made teammates feel worthless. Truth is, one of the times I was most proud of the Philadelphia sports fans was when they booed Kobe as he hoisted the MVP trophy from the 2002 All-Star Game at the Wachovia Center.

Yet there I was at 3 a.m. rooting for Dwyane Wade to get the ball to Kobe in a spot where he could score for the red, white and blue all while wondering why someone didn’t pick up Spain’s guard Ricky Rubio and heave him into a trash can on the concourse.

Make no mistake—it was a blast. As a sports and Olympics fan, part of the fun of it is waiting all day for the game/meet/match and adjusting your life accordingly. If a game comes on at 1 a.m., well, by golly, I’m going to be ready. That’s what sports fans do.

They want to see what happens as it happens.

It seems like a pretty basic concept, right? Broadcast the game when it’s scheduled. Simple. Uncomplicated. Who among us doesn’t secretly enjoy those summertime west coast swings where part of the allure is fighting sleep in order to make it through the middle innings?

For some reason the Olympics are no longer for sports fans. This is nothing new, though. In fact, I’ve been beating this drum for as long as this web site has been alive and I’m pretty tired of it.

If a network wants to stage an Olympics, stop being so damned insulting to the sports fans. Please.

Yes, I know. It’s not about sports fans during the Olympics… at least not in recent history. The truth is NBC must feel like sports—even Olympic competition—was not enough. Real drama is pushed aside while the events that are shown are more fake than the fireplace raging behind Bob Costas. Worse, they chopped up the recordings of the events, edited out the nuance and details, and presented them as it would an episode of “Friends.”

Look at how a compelling day of competition on Sunday was presented. Instead of showing more of the Bode Miller redemption Olympics live when it happened, NBC taped it, packaged it up and sprinkled it neatly between lulls in the ice dancing competition during its prime time run. As a result of that, the HUGE hockey game between the U.S. and Canada, one that was a trending topic on Twitter hours after it had ended, was pushed to MSNBC. Never mind that a lot of people don’t get MSNBC or that it isn’t in High Def in a lot of markets, the biggest hockey game of the year was shoved off as if it were curling match.

According to a story on Yahoo!, NBC says it bumped hockey because of American women. Yep, women apparently live life with their heads buried in the ground and want to watch ice dancing and other snowy events that already happened hours prior instead of real-life drama. Oh sure, they say that

But the NHL shut down its season for the Olympics, which means it closed up shop for two weeks specifically for NBC. There are a lot of dark buildings on a lot of nights over the next two weeks all over North America because the players wanted the best athletes in the sport to show off at the Olympics. So rather than promote the game by putting the biggest game of the year on live where most people could see it, while chastising news organizations for reporting things that already happened.

Oh yes, this Internet thing just might get popular one day.

Look, I’m not so naïve that I don’t understand why things are they way they are. I get it. If they could turn a profit by putting color bars on TV all day, they’d do it. Quality and merit don’t really matter these days.[1] But that’s just mean. People work hard all day, they pay taxes on top of taxes. They have mortgages and debt and not enough time to enjoy a day free from stress. So rather than treat the folks (who don’t have the time to investigate the truth, etc.) to something good, they get pre-processed scraps.

Not cool.

Hey, we’re sports fans and (in best Jim McKay voice) want the unparalleled human drama that is only captured in the Olympics. Once every four years athletes have a chance to capture immortality. Just think if the World Series or the Super Bowl happened once every four years and then they messed with it because it didn’t look like a dumb episode of a banal “reality” show.

Worse, they can pretend like things didn’t happen like in 2008 in Beijing. When the rest of the world was fawning over Usain Bolt as the true hero of the games and yawning over swimming, NBC went so far to black it out… Chinese democracy style.

Actually, NBC chose to ignore most events in 2008 because they did not fit into its broadcast plan devised way back when Beijing was awarded the games in 2001. According to a story in The New York Times, NBC and IOC chairman, Jacques Rogge, worked together to finagle the schedule of swimming events so that they could be aired during prime time in the United States. But before doing so, Dick Ebersol, the president of NBC sports, had to run the plan the network and IOC past one person:

Swimmer Michael Phelps.

When was the last time the commissioner of baseball asked a player what time he wanted the games to start? How about the president of ESPN or Fox checking with Jimmy Rollins to see what time would be best to put the game on TV?

Answer: never.

So when Usain Bolt sprinted onto the scene and suddenly, like lightning, became the face of the Olympics—the unadultered, non-sponsored International star—well, NBC wasn't having that. To NBC, Usain Bolt did not turn in the most otherworldly performances in Olympic history. He was a party crasher. Didn't he get the memo that Michael Phelps was the star?

To knock him down a peg, NBC lapdog Jacques Rogge claimed Bolt's celebrations were unsportsmanlike (Sally Jenkins of The Washington Post nailed it). Costas waded into the fray, too, echoing the IOC boss' complaints. However, when Phelps pounded his chest, flexed, screamed and posed (nearly completely naked) after several of his victories, they said nothing. Actually, Bob and the gang fawned all over their White Knight and wanted you to do the same.

Please ignore that man running faster than anyone else in history of the world. That has nothing to do with us. Y’know, almost like hockey this time around.

There could be hope looming, though. NBC’s contract to televise the Olympics ends after the 2012 games in London and ESPN is rumored to want to buy in. Of course this is all speculation at this point, though it was worth noting that a quote in a story from a person in the know the sports network indicated that ESPN would produce the Olympic broadcast like it was a sporting event.

That’s nice.

[1] See Conan O’Brien and Jay Leno.

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Primoz Brezec, we hardly knew ye

February 18, 2010

When one thinks back on the historical significance ofsome of the mega-deals that have gone down in the name of basketball in this town, it almost leaves a guy breathless. Ponder for a moment the fact that two teams with origins in Philadelphia traded away Wilt Chamberlain when he was in the prime of his career…

Not once, but twice!

Imagine that—arguably the greatest individual talent ever to play basketball was traded from the Warriors to the Sixers for Connie Dierking, Paul Neumann, Lee Shaffer and cash before going from the 76ers to the Lakers for Jerry Chambers, Archie Clark and Darrall Imhoff. The first trade came a season after Wilt led the league in scoring with nearly 35 points per game and 23 rebounds, while the second one came two seasons after the Sixers won their first NBA title (third for a Philly team) and the big man went for 24-24 and led the league in assists.

But just like that, he was gone. Poof!

Trading away Wilt Chamberlain was hardly the most dubious deal in the history of Philadelphia NBA teams. Nope, not even close. Ever hear the story about how Maurice Cheeks was traded in August of 1989 to the Spurs, only Mo didn’t know about it until he arrived back at his house and found a reporter there waiting at his doorstep. Go ahead and ask Michael Barkann about that one sometime because he was the guy who broke the news to Cheeks.

No word if Michael B tracked down Christian Welp and David Wingate, too, to tell them they were packaged with Cheeks to get Johnny Dawkins and Jay Vincent.

Charles Barkley was traded simply because he had outgrown Philadelphia and probably would have been arrested for aggravated assault on Armen Gilliam if he had to stay another day longer. The Barkley deal returned the Sixers Jeff Hornacek, Andrew Lang and Tim Perry, which is the basketball equivalent to trading Curt Schilling for Travis Lee, Omar Daal, Vicente Padilla and Nelson Figueroa.

Sometimes trades have to be made for the sanity of everyone who remains. Barkley and Schilling had to go for just that very reason—we needed to stay sane and so did they. However, on the scale of trades that should have warranted the state to step in and send owner Harold Katz upstate to the nervous hospital for a little vaca, the deal on draft day of 1986 is an all-timer.

Whenever I think about the Deal of ’86, I think of it two different ways. In one I look at it kind of like Robert E. Lee meeting Ulysses Grant in the courthouse at Appomattox in 1865 to sign the papers signaling the end of the Civil War. Then Lee slowly rode off on that white horse of his and wandered around in the wilderness until it was time to check out.

The other thing I think of is the Saturday Night Live sketch from the ‘90s when Kevin Nealon and Victoria Jackson play interviewers who ask dumb politicians deftly worded questions about just how far they can shove their heads into their derriere. Always gets a giggle, though in real life it’s not so funny.

Think about it—in one day the Sixers traded Hall-of-Famer Moses Malone and solid frontcourt man Terry Catledge to Washington and then sent the No. 1 overall pick of the deep (yet cursed) 1986 draft to Cleveland. The pick turned out to be perennial All-Star Brad Daugherty. Maybe the Sixers somehow knew that Daugherty’s Hall-of-Fame career would be cut short at age 28 because of back injuries? Or maybe they didn’t want a guy who got 21-and-11 during the last four years of his career?

Either way, the Sixers turned away Moses Malone, Brad Daugherty and Terry Catledge, plus two first-round draft picks and got back Roy Hinson, Cliff Robinson and Jeff Ruland…

No, there’s no punch line. That really happened!

I still can’t believe the Spectrum wasn’t overrun with an angry mob out of an old movie like It’s a Wonderful Life with folks screaming for Harold Katz as if he were the miserly Old Man Potter. Why weren’t there riots?

So it is above the din of discontent that we recall the inglorious days of yore when our NBA team out-smarted itself and ruined things for a while. In the aftermath of Wilt going to the Lakers, the Sixers set the record for the worst season in the history of the sport with just 9 wins in 1973. And, perhaps, maybe it’s even reasonable to think that the Sixers have never really recovered from Draft Day of ’86. Why not? In addition to losing two Hall-of-Fame quality players, they also gave up two first-round draft picks and picked up Jeff Ruland, who went on to play just 18 games over the course of five years. Current Sixers’ GM Ed Stefanski knows that if he puts his hand over an open flame and keeps it there for a bit, it’s not going to end well.

Smart right?

Maybe. But then again, maybe not. After all, at 20-33 these Sixers are going nowhere fast. They are too good to benefit from the draft and too bad to do anything of note in the playoffs. Moreover, two players—Elton brand and Andre Iguodala—have contracts that aren’t very conducive to a team hoping to rebuild in the current salary-capped NBA. I think I called it NBA DMZ a few days ago. Basketball limbo might be a better term.

With the majority of fans hoping the team would unload a valuable player, but cap-unfriendly guy like Iguodala for any number of teams we heard about on the rumor mill (and confirmed by the GM) in order to acquire the coveted expiring contract so favored in these crazy times, it was funny to hear the reaction to an actual deal. No, funny is not the right word there because it implies that a good time was had by all. Let’s just say it was fascinating to couch the reaction from the fans against the words from Stefanski. See, the GM thinks his team is underachieving and isn’t as bad as the 20-33 record indicates.

No argument here.

However, if the GM makes a deal he doesn’t want to give up Iguodala for Jeff Ruland. Sure-and-steady Eddie wants some talent back in a trade, too. Why wouldn’t he? Good for him.

“For us to take back expiring contracts for talent didn’t make much sense, and it would not have gotten us close to a lot of the team [much further under the cap],” Stefanski explained.

Fair enough. So when the only deal at the trade deadline is one which the Sixers sent Royal Ivey, Primoz Brezec and a second-round pick to the Milwaukee Bucks for guard Jodie Meeks and center Francisco Elson, well, let’s just say it feels a bit underwhelming. In fact, it feels a bit disappointing, too. I mean, think of all those little kids out there talking about, “Roy-al with Cheese!” and sporting those Primoz jerseys with ol’ number whatever he was on the back.

Nobody ever thinks about the kids.

In light of the mega-deal, I solicited opinions from the man on the street (via Twitter) for thoughts on the deadline blockbuster… this is what I got back:

A fellow named Robert from Philadelphia asked, “Who are the Sixers?”

Oh come on, we know… but do we really know them. They never let us get close enough.

A man who calls himself Kevin from Philadelphia seemed most distraught, writing: “Just when I got my Royal Ivey jersey...”

Isn’t that how it always works?

A guy named Dan from Delaware astutely pointed out that Francisco Elson speaks five different language, including his native tongue, Dutch, says this fact will help him in Philly: “He can translate DNP-CD however he likes.”

After that the responses just got weird and I kind of checked out after the one from a guy who describes himself as a “Philly Phanatic,” who asked: “Is the real Ed Stefanski in a cave somewhere and actually Billy King has pulled a 'Face Off' switcheroo?”

When we start comparing the 2009-10 Sixers to a Travolta/Cage vehicle, it's time to stop.

Yes, the trading deadline can send us all off the deep end, but at least this time we didn’t have to go for the torches and pitchforks to storm whatever it is to strom.

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Hear him roar

February 17, 2010

The plan was to write something about how the Sixers willlikely finish out the season with the players they have. With the trade deadline inching ever closer and the last playoff in the East looking more difficult to catch with each passing game, it’s nearly time to pull the plug on the pro basketball season in Philadelphia.

That’s a shame, too. It would be neat to see the Sixers sneak into the playoffs and go up against LeBron James and the Cleveland Cavaliers in the first round. Oh sure, they’ll lose, but that’s beside the point. The 2009-10 season could be one of the last great NBA seasons for a while with the collective bargaining agreement about to expire and the threat of a lockout looming. If the NBA is going away from a while, it could be with LeBron, Shaq and Kobe in the Finals and the Western Conference race as tight as ever.

Things are pretty good for the NBA on the court. Off the court? Not so much.

A backup plan was to write something about the Winter Olympics and the most successful day for the U.S.A. in the winter games, ever. On Wednesday, Shani Davis, Shaun White and Lindsey Vonn won gold and Julia Mancuso took a silver. That’s four medals in one day, including one where some dude can wear snow pants that look like denim.

You can’t wear jeans to the Olympics… c’mon!

Maybe we can wait a day to write about the Olympics after Johnny Weir skates. Yeah, that’s the plan. I saw where someone wrote that Johnny Weir is the best Sasha Baron Cohen character. That sounds about right. Actually, the Lancaster County native is so over the top that it seems as if he is parodying figure skating. If that’s his intent, he’s hilarious. And if it’s not, well, that’s hilarious, too.

But when word came out that Tiger Woods is going to show in face in public on Friday at a “press conference,” for the first time since he drove his car into a fire hydrant and then took a nap on his front lawn, all bets were off. See, we’ve only heard about Tiger and his various exploits in the time since he had that little accident.

Y’know, it made all the papers.

Here’s the interesting caveat about it, though… Tiger is going to hold his press conference only he will not be taking any questions. In other words, he’s going to stand in front of a bunch of cameras and folks with recorders and note pads and sermonize. He’s going to deliver a speech because it sure as shoot ain’t going to be a press conference. See, a “conference” implies that there will be a give and take. In a press conference, ideas are exchanged, questions proffered and answers—sometimes—attempted.

If a guy is going to just stand there and pontificate, what’s the point of calling everyone in?

Maybe that’s the problem? Maybe the fact that if Tiger Woods wants to talk (and only on his terms) everyone will go running to wherever he wants them just to be talked at. The arrogance of that guy, huh?

Then again, we already knew about Tiger’s arrogance—that is if the stories and reports are to be believed. Plus, three months after the event occurred and now the guy is ready to talk? He already gave the police the stiff-arm and then drove up traffic to his web site by posting ambiguous mea culpas. Now what does he want to say that he couldn’t say before? What’s in it for him?

Oh, I get it now… he wants to play in the Masters and has to do his penance first.

Sheesh, the dude hasn’t even said a word yet and I already want him to shut up.

It will be fun to listen in though. What else do people do on a Friday at 11 a.m. aside from work? Watch guys in faux jeans or faux fur compete in the Olympics? Actually, come to think of it, that might be the way to go.

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PODCAST EPISODE NO. 4

In the fourth show of The Podcast of Awesomeness, the gang recaps the Academy Awards, ponders Dennis Deitch's trip to Las Vegas, and talks about the Phillies on the phone with Todd Zolecki from Tampa. Oh, and Tom Finer jumps into the fray.

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Volume 1, No. 3: March 2, 2010

PODCAST NO. 3

We came back in the third episode with more talk about Allen Iverson and the Olympic hockey finale. More importantly, the regular cast of characters was joined by Mike Sielski and Bob Ford, two of the best columnists on the planet.

The show ends with a life tip from Dennis, which is sure to be one of those affirmations that people scrawl into their diaries as a means of hope and strength.

***

Volume 1, No. 2: February 23, 2010

AWESOME EPISODE NO. 2

In the second episode of the show, John is rejoined by Sarah and Dan and contemplates ending the entire show. Also, Dennis Deitch and Mike Radano return for another week and Chris Wilson, the drummer from Ted Leo & The Pharmacists, stops by to chat.Topics ranged from Brian Westbrook's release from the Eagles. Also, Chris offers some Jayson Werth beard-grooming tips for the summertime, the group ponders Allen Iverson’s legacy, Dennis downplays the Olympic hockey game between the U.S. and Canada, while they all lament the epic suckitude of the bands Nickleback and Creed.

Meanwhile, Dennis tells the story about the time when he rendered Stephen Colbert speechless, before Dan walked out.

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The Debut: February 17, 2010

PODCAST NO. 1

In the debut episode of The John Finger Podcast of Awesomeness, John is joined by co-conspirators Sarah Baicker and Dan Roche, along with guests Andy Schwartz, Dennis Deitch and Mike Radano for a little chat about a whole bunch of stuff, including the Phillies at Spring Training, the Winter Olympics, the 76ers as well as Dave Coggin and NASCAR.

***

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check us out on iTunes, too.

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Planting the bar low, a.k.a. PODCAST EPISODE NO. 1

February 17, 2010

So we got together to record a podcast and let’s just saywe placed the bar low. When we get back together next week there will be lots of room improvement. Besides, why use our best material the first time out?

Anyway, consider this the director’s cut to the still unnamed podcast. Oh yes, that means there will be more and from what I can tell it will be exponentially better than the one attached at the bottom of this page.

The best part? Excluding the solid minute we spent discussing former Phillies pitcher David Coggin, it had to be when we walked out of the room after it was all finished and tried to convince each other it wasn’t awful. It reminded me of the time when my friend John got a home brewing kit and we spent the better part of the night/morning making our own beer. It was quite a process, what with the yeast and balloons and industrial sized plastic tubs. What a mess!

A few weeks later when our friends were grimacing and choking it down, no one had the nerve to tell us how awful it was.

“Yeah,” our friends said making a face and smacking their tongue off the roof of their mouths as if they just chewed a Brillo pad. “It’s not bad.”

Indeed, our first podcast effort was just like making our own beer from a kit in my friend John’s kitchen.

Here’s the DVD extras… when Sarah Baicker was introduced, she waved. Yes, she knew it was audio, but she waved anyway. Also, we used some low-rent four-tracker, but were only smart enough to bring one microphone. Because of that, six of us had to huddle around a desk and talk loud enough for our voices to be picked up over the din of the air conditioner and/or fluorescent lights.

Next week we’ll be sure to staple egg cartons to the walls and ceiling like Terrence Howard and Anthony Anderson in “Hustle & Flow.”

Loved that movie.

Regardless, for the second episode we will have the great Tom Finer engineering things and I promise to keep a tighter grip on the reins. Take those to the bank.

And without further blathering, here is the first edition of the nameless podcast:

PODCAST NO. 1

check us out on iTunes, too.

Here’s what I need from our listener(s): submit a (tasteful) name for the show. E-mail them to me here. The one that is chosen will earn the submitter a guest shot on the show… or maybe a pack of baseball cards or something like that.

Cast of characters
John Finger, CSNPhilly.com
Sarah Baicker, CSNPhilly.com
Dan Roche, Comcast SportsNet - Philadelphia

Also appearing
Dennis Deitch, Delaware County Daily Times
Mike Radano, collateral damage

Special appearance
Andy Schwartz as "The Kid"

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International Man of Mystery

February 15, 2010

Here we go again…

Just when we thought Floyd Landis could go hole up in his Unabomber-like shed behind a car wash in some desolate Southern California mountain town, it comes out today that he’s a wanted man. Unfortunately for Floyd, the summons isn’t from an international racing team like Lance Armstrong’s Team RadioShack or Alberto Contador’s Team Astana.

No, this time a French judge has issued an international arrest warrant for the disgraced 2006 Tour de France champ and Lancaster County, Pa. native. According to the reports, judge Thomas Cassuto wants to question Landis about a supposed computer-hacking incident at the French Chatenay-Malabry laboratory. That was the lab that reportedly committed more than 200 procedural and protocol errors when testing Landis’ positive sample in 2006.

Since Landis’ two-year ban, the lab is no longer used by the cycling union (UCI) and a possible reduction in grant money from the French government puts the lab’s future in doubt.

So maybe with extinction hanging over its head, the brass at the lab decided to go after one of the biggest pariahs in the history of sports? Or maybe there’s something to it? After all, nearly a year ago the French newspaper L'Express reported information that had been obtained from the alleged computer hacking was sent to a Canadian lab from a computer registered to Landis’ coach, Arnie Baker. A subsequent report by The New York Times showed, “No evidence has surfaced to connect Mr. Landis or Dr. Baker to the hacking, and each has denied any involvement.”

But when French judges (or any judge, for that matter) makes up his mind that something needs to happen, well by golly, something happens. Who cares how trumped up the charges might be or if the judge is even allowed to issue an international arrest warrant because when it comes out to be all BS, it isn’t the judge or the lab that has to deal with the fallout. It’s Floyd.

Man, they must really hate it when Americans win that bike race.

Meanwhile, it’s kind of interesting that Landis has become to the French what Charles Barkley is to Milwaukee. You know how it always seemed as if the Milwaukee police were sitting at the airport waiting for Sir Chuck to show up so they could slap the cuffs on him and take him downtown for brawling in a city bar. However, when some dude was living in the center of the town and near a large university where he holed up in an apartment and killed and ate people, well, they had no idea how to get that guy.

So some wacky French judge can issue an International arrest warrant for Floyd Landis for alleged computer hacking a drug lab that lied about and railroaded him, but when it comes to handing over murderers like Ira Einhorn or an alleged pedophile/rapist like Roman Polanski, or even drumming up support for convicted cop killer, Mumia Abu-Jamal, well, the French will stand up for them.

A guy who revealed the incompetence and hypocrisy of the French-supported drug lab, well, throw the book at that guy.

How dare he point out their crappy practices.

Since there is an international arrest warrant out for Landis, we have to ask…

Is there a reward? Will there be “Wanted” posters hanging up at the post office? If so, I’m thinking about putting together a posse to take him down and turn him in. He shouldn’t be too hard to find riding his bike up in the mountains… he’s quick though.

We might need to set up an ambush.

Post-script: after the writing of this, France's anti-doping chief Pierre Bordry had mistakenly described the arrest warrant as international. The warrant is only applicable on French soil, but it is possible in such cases to issue an international warrant at a later date if needed. I say we still go after him. Posse coming together.

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Sport or a double-dare?

February 14, 2010

There’s something oddly fascinating about the sportstaking center stage on Sunday’s Valentine’s Day. We call them odd because the only way the regular dude can participate in them is if they are on vacation, live on the Arctic Circle, are acting on a dare, or are being chased by the cops.

So yeah, the Daytona 500 is on the same time as some wacky event at the Winter Olympics that involves cross-country skis, man-made snow, bales of hay and high-powered rifles. They call it the biathlon and its participants biathletes. This came on after guys slapped on long skis, whipped down a hill as fast as possible before jumping off a ramp that launched them high into the air. Whoever landed that farthest away without impaling themselves on the skis, the ramp or a spectator, wins.

My question is: When did the Winter Olympics turn into a snow-day early dismissal from fifth grade? We did that kind of stuff all the time (without the guns, of course—we used ice balls with rocks packed inside) only we weren’t smart enough to give out medals. Our award was street cred to the kid who was daring enough to pull off the stunt without breaking a bone or tearing some ligaments.

It wasn’t out of the question that someone would get hurt, either. After all, our Winter Olympics always took place in the Hamilton Watch parking lot where all the snow was plowed into a massive 12-foot mountain. From there we could jump, sled, ski, build forts that were more like condos or ant colonies through the hulking mound, all while fending off kids from the adjacent neighborhood with snowballs packed with rocks.

Just wake me when Dick Buttons, Johnny Weir and the hockey starts. Nothing like that Olympic hockey—it’s so much better than other types of hockey. Especially the type that can stop in the middle of the season for two weeks and no one bats an eye.

Clearly the biggest day-time sporting event (providing a big hors d'œuvre for the NBA All-Star Game), was the car race in Florida. In fact, the Daytona 500 is more than just the Super Bowl of car racing, it’s also where Sarah Palin turned up to shake hands (they were clean) and not talk politics, which she did by talking politics. Yes, sometimes no style is actually style.

Now racing of any kind is riveting to me. It could be a couple of mice trying to negotiate a maze and I’ll tune in just to see how quickly those little guys can maneuver around the corners. Granted, car racing is a little difficult to follow and I can’t imagine what real, live spectating at a car race is like. Sure, it looks like it could be the sports spectator version of water boarding, but folks who have been there say it’s quite the assault on the senses.

First, there are the cars. Sure, they buzz past pretty quickly and are pretty difficult to see lapping around the track at nearly 200-mph, but the noise is pretty intense (so I’m told). That is if you can even hear it since most folks wear headphones in order to listen to the crews communicate with the driver.

That’s what you have at a NASCAR race—guys with headphones to drown out the noise of the speeding cars and binoculars glued to their eyes in order to see various women out on the infield flashing the cars.

It’s a helluva thing.

The most entertaining part about watching a NASCAR event on TV is the interviews with the drivers because even the most humble, laidback guy talks trash on someone. It actually has a WWE quality to it without the shouting, steroids or Mean Gene Okerlund. Instead, after the race there is a rapid-fire TV interview segment where the drivers talk about their race which is always compounded by what a jackass some other guys is. And as soon as the jackass in question is called out, the camera swings directly to that dude who then talks about his race and which guy he attempting to turn into a fiery call of steel and rubber. Then they go to that guy and the process continues until every driver has been insulted.

After Sunday’s race in which Jamie McMurray dodged a mess of wrecks and potholes to beat Dale Earnhardt Jr., the racers spent most of the post-game interviews trash talking themselves. The winner cried and the also-rans talked about how they sucked. It was kind of like on the Chris Farley Show when he realizes he’s badgering his guests with really inane questions.

Stupid! I took my foot off the gas. So stupid!

Then the winner started crying in the middle of an interview in which he gave thoughtful and engaged answers. But it wasn’t just the winner who did that, either. They all did it. It was like everyone in the sport is like Charles Barkley without the bar fights or hangouts with Urkle.

It’s awesome.

Imagine if they did that in baseball, basketball or football… you know, the sports where the majority of athletes try to be as politically correct and boring as possible. How fun would it be to hear Chase Utley unload on John Lannan after the Nats’ pitcher broke his hand with a pitch? Remember how Pete Rose trash-talked Gene Garber after the pitcher ended his hitting streak in 1978? That type of behavior is exactly what baseball needs.

Strangely, there weren’t too many cracks about Danica Patrick, the world’s most famous female race-car driver, who got caught up in a wreck in her NASCAR debut on Saturday. It’s strange because the wise cracks really just write themselves.

“Was she putting on her lipstick with the rear-view mirror before the crash?”

“She wasn’t texting her friends, was she?”

Hey, Danica really wants to be taken seriously about her driving skills... maybe that's why she keeps taking off her clothes for photo shoots.

There was none of that “woman driver” stuff at all from all those good ol’ boys. Hey, they’re enlightened these days. They cry when they win.

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Workin' for the weekend

February 13, 2010

Unless you’ve seen it in-person and with slow-motioninstant replays, there probably isn’t much to grab the casual fan about the NBA’s dunk contest anymore. More than simply getting caught into the over-saturation of the modern media, it’s seems as if the dunk contest is a victim of its own success.

Blame Dominique Wilkins, Spud Webb, Doc and Michael Jordan.

Sure, the dunks still push the envelope a bit and the contestants are as athletic and innovative as ever, it’s just when one has seen Doc leaping off one leg from the foul line with the afro blowing in the breeze, and Jordan getting horizontal and looking down on the rim before he throws it through, well, everything else is kind of blah. That’s a shame, too, because dunking a ball still is one of those great feats for dudes like me.

Unrequited athletic goals: run marathon fast enough to qualify for the Olympic Trials and dunk a basketball on a regulation hoop.

Oh, but they’ll be dunkin’ ‘em tonight in Dallas. Instead of a multi-leveled scoring system with elimination rounds in a veritable tournament of dunkitude, tonight’s competition will have just five contestants, which seems like the perfect amount. However, the casual fan might not know who a few of the guys are.

One of the contestants is two-time dunk champion Nate Robinson of the Knicks. Robinson, as some might remember, is the 5-foot-9 guard who jumped over 5-foot-3 ex-champ, Spud Webb, in the 2006 competition and was declared the winner. It didn’t matter that the Sixers’ Andre Iguodala was the better dunker in the competition because the 5-foot-9 dude jumped over the 5-foot-3 guy. Meanwhile, Iguodala dunked one from the out-of-bounds side of the baseline while behind the backboard. There is no way Robinson could have performed a dunk like Iguodala’s and I’m pretty sure Iggy wouldn’t even need a running start to leap over Spud Webb.

Here’s the thing about the modern-day dunk contest that may be its flaw: who are these guys?

Yeah, we know who Nate Robinson is because he won the dunk contest twice. Yet when it comes to his play with the Knicks, Robinson is an OK player for a bad team. In fact, the best thing about Robinson as far as the Knicks are concerned is that he can be a free agent at the end of the season.

That’s certainly not a knock on Robinson’s abilities. Coming off the bench for the Knicks, Robinson still gets more than 13 points a game in 24 minutes. Yes, Robinson is flawed, but he’s not the Knicks biggest problem.

He’s just the dunk contest’s problem.

Admit it, Robinson is only in the competition because he’s 5-foot-9. That’s it. There’s no other appeal to having Robinson in there other than he’s small. That’s the same reason for Spud Webb’s appeal, too. He was 5-foot-3, which is shorter than just about every adult male in the country unless they are professional jockeys or coxswains. So putting the little guy in to dunk against the big fellas is part of the show. It’s cool, it looks impressive, but it’s kind of like going to the freak show to watch the dude hammer nails into his nose. Who cares that Dominique had better dunks than Spud Webb way back when?

Robinson says he’s going to win this year, too, which would make him the most decorated dunker in the slam dunk contest ever. That’s more than Jordan, Dominique, Harold Minor [1]and Jason Richardson. However, Shannon Brown of the Lakers appears to be the favorite of the pundits who wax on about such things. Ironically, Brown is the same age as Miner was when the Cavs waived him after just 19 games in 1996.

And there’s the rub—Robinson, Brown along with Gerald Wallace, Eric Gordon and DeMar DeRozan are the dunkers in Dallas, and undoubtedly all of them can go all out because there isn’t an All-Star in the bunch. There’s no LeBron, no Kobe, no Dwight Howard or even Kevin Durant. It’s almost the same deal in the three-point shootout, though All-Stars Paul Pierce and Chauncey Billups will be firing them up. Still, it’s doubtful Pierce will walk into the locker room with the other contestants and start talking trash or ask, “Which one of you guys is going for second?”[2]

Here’s all you need to know about the modern-day NBA All-Star weekend… while the big stars like LeBron and Kobe are wearing their best tailored suit and sitting on the sidelines, Jason Kapono is cleaning up in the three-point shootout. Yes, Jason Kapono won it twice in a row when he was (2007 and 2008) playing for the Heat and the Raptors. Yet for one reason or another Kapono can’t get off the bench for the Sixers this season.

How does that happen? Kapono is shooting 38 percent on just 79 three-pointer attempts this season. And who wants to see him shoot the ball for the three-point title or in game action with the Sixers?

C'mon LeBron... just dunk some for us.

[1] Harold Miner had the ignominy of being nicknamed, “Baby Jordan.” Isn’t that awful? It’s especially awful considering that Minor couldn’t play a lick. “Baby Jordan” lasted just four seasons in the NBA with the Heat and Cavs, but won two dunk contests. Sounds like he was spreading himself a little thin—instead of dunking maybe he should have been working on other things.

[2] Was there ever a better bit of PG-level bit of trash talk ever? You’d never know it, but everyone says Bird was the greatest trash talker in the history of the game. One ex-player from that era told me that Bird sometimes would start in on the trash talk when going through the layup line. My favorite was a bit he used to give to Charles Barkley: “Hey fat boy, how late were you out last night?”What could Barkley say to that? He knew where he was and how late he was there.

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Welcome to The Machine

February 12, 2010

Let’s just get this out of the way up front: I’m obsessedwith the NBA Trade Machine on ESPN.com. Obsessed in the sense that I’ve spent most of Friday designing trades with various teams all centered on Andre Iguodala. You won’t get any chatter out of the Sixers regarding trade gossip, but that hardly matters. After all, there are a whole bunch of teams sniffing around and trying to figure out ways to pry Iguodala away from the Sixers.

Needless to say, it isn’t as easy as it sounds. In fact, any time I was able to put together a package and get that green-fonted message indicating that the trade was, indeed, feasible, I let out a big hoot. Actually, it was more of a “woo-hoo!” that would have been followed with a high-five if there was anyone wasting their day with the NBA Trade Machine like me. Regardless, I can only imagine that Sixers’ GM Ed Stefanski is sitting around a laptop with his lieutenants while plugging in names and trying to get the successful match.

That’s the way they do it, right?

Apropos of that, maybe some computer geeks ought to develop an NBA Trade Machine-like program for everyday life decisions. You know, if you can’t decide on what to make for dinner or which shirt to wear you can plug it into the data base, answer all the prompts and get the right answers. It would be perfect for folks who can’t make decisions on anything, though it could make a serious dent on Magic 8-Ball sales.

Still, after a lot of thought and effort into trading Iguodala, here are the trades I came up with:

· Iguodala and Jason Smith to Phoenix for Amar’e Stoudemire

This one met the following criteria—it sent Iguodala to another team and it brought back an expiring contract. Still, it says something about Stoudemire that the Suns appear interested in dealing him away when they have Steve Nash running the offense. After all, I once read an interview with Nash when he said his top priority when he has the ball is to get it in Stoudemire’s hands so he can score. Who wouldn’t do anything possible to stay on that team? An offense that features the most unselfish and most talented point guard with the lone objective of giving Stoudemire the ball no matter what… um, what’s the problem?

I wonder if Iguodala is lobbying behind the scenes to get traded to Phoenix. Why wouldn’t he? Not only would he be guaranteed all the shots he wants in a perfect position to succeed because of Nash, but also went to college at the University of Arizona. Warm winter weather, home cooking, and Steve Nash setting you up.

Nice.

· Iguodala and Jason Kapono to Boston for Ray Allen

No, this one won’t happen because of that whole Atlantic Division thang, but folks in Boston say they really are interested in Iguodala. They like Iggy so much, it’s said, that they are talking about shipping out Ray Allen for him on Boston talk radio.

And if you think Philly sports radio is wacky, go listen to what they say on the radio in Boston. Let’s just leave it at that.

Want to know who this trade would tick off? Yep, Ray Allen. Jesus Shuttleworth playing out the string with Allen Iverson…

Yikes.

· Iguodala to San Antonio for Keith Bogans, Michael Finley, Roger Mason and Antonio McDyess

No, this one won’t happen either, but it definitely satisfies a lot of needs for both teams. The Spurs might be a piece or two away from beating the Lakers in the West and Iggy fits that mold. The Sixers want to have some cap space in the off-season and there are three expiring contracts in that pile of players. The Sixers would be on the hook for MyDyess for two more years, but only at $4.5 million per season.

· Iguodala to Chicago for Jerome James and Tyrus Thomas

You don’t need a sky writer to spell this one out… can you say, "SALARY DUMP!"

If there is one good thing about the NBA salary cap it is it spawned the NBA Trade Machine. Actually, that might be the only good thing about the NBA salary cap. Not only has the cap killed many chances for teams to improve, but it beat the hell out of a Friday afternoon for me.

Thank you, David Stern.

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Cabin fever or 'All work and no play...'

February 12, 2010

We’re all pretty much sick of the snow and of winter ingeneral right about now. Call it cabin fever or just the doldrums of February and it’s easy to understand why a lot of folks are just beat. Tired, sick and beat.

When we finally come up for air after this weekend it will be a six-day weekend for the kids. In the meantime, the little jackals will continue to mercilessly pummel me with half-assed little kid snowballs before waiting until my back is turned before attacking with some arcane martial arts punch and/or kick.

Someone (for the love of God!) open up the schools! My body is officially a giant wound.

Hopefully, there will be nothing to dig or defend against this weekend so some of us can recoup from a week of beatings given out by Mother Nature and my offspring[1]. In the meantime, there’s plenty to keep an eye on this weekend and strangely, none of it has anything to do with the pro teams from Philadelphia.

Oh sure, spring training opens next week, but that’s largely ceremonial to begin with since nearly every player has a.) been working out at the training facility already, or b.) been working out on their own with their trainer/guru/wife/teammates. But then again, baseball is pretty much all ceremonial. There’s all that whiny, metaphoric Opening Day stuff that should make anyone with any association with baseball want to stuff their head in an oven. At least were at a point in the game’s history where we can laugh at the rituals, traditions and rituals. With the drugs, bad behavior and institutional racism that dot the game’s long history, a little ceremonial pining for dates on a calendar isn’t all that bad.

Speaking of ceremonies, apparently the winter Olympics begins in a couple of hours or something—it’s tough to tell. Since all the snow earmarked for the folks in Vancouver has been transplanted on top of us, sane people are winter-ed out. Besides, what are these events? The luge? I did that when I woke up with a head cold and wanted to clear my nasal passages. Ski jumping and free-style moguls? Whatever… I did moves better than those the first time I ever put skis on my feet. No, I didn't try to make those moves, but that's just a technicality.

Big deal, right? Apparently the winter Olympics are a big enough deal to shut down the NHL for two weeks right in the middle of the season. Can you imagine that? The season was motoring on as its wont to do in February and then all of a sudden the players leave and join different teams for two weeks… and nobody cares! Remember the last time the NHL took a break for the whole season back in 2004-05? Remember? They called it a “lockout” or something?

No, I don’t remember it, either.

Nothing against the winter Olympics, but I doubt I’m going to watch. In fact, the only way I’ll watch is if I slip on some ice, luge down the hill in front of the house and end up in traction in the hospital. If that happens (and only if that happens) and I can’t reach the remote (because I’m in traction and my wife LOVES the pagaentry and the costumes of the ice skating), maybe I’ll watch. Hopefully that Johnny Weir will be skating, too. I like that dude because he fits into a the long line of flamboyant, trash-talking athletes like Reggie Jackson, Larry Bird, Terrell Owens, Michael Jordan and Dick Buttons.[2] Johnny Weir is also from the southern end of Lancaster County, which is a part of the country that put the “thump” into “bible thumping.”

It is both perfectly logical and incredibly insane that Johnny Weir is from Lancaster County, Pa. Please don’t ask for an explanation. If you know, it makes sense.

Speaking of trash-talking flamboyance, the NBA All-Star weekend takes place on Saturday where they will dunk, shoot and then play the All-Star Game in a football stadium in Dallas. According to reports, they are expecting 92,000 people to show up, which commissioner David Stern says will be the largest crowd to see a basketball game “in the history of the world.” However, Allen Iverson will not be amongst the attendees at the All-Star Game even though he was voted in by the fans as a starter. No, we’re not going to get into the pros and cons of fan All-Star voting and/or Iverson’s unworthiness to participate in the weekend’s events designed to celebrate the majesty and the egos of the best players on the planet. The truth is the NBA has the best All-Star Game going simply because they don’t do that whole bit where every-team-must-be-represented schtick that baseball does. Who wants to see the best player from a bad team?

No, making it to the All-Star Game in the NBA is significant. It carries some weight because only 12 guys get to go. In last summer’s baseball All-Star Game, Zach Duke was selected to be in the game. Oh sure, 2009 was his best season because he went 11-16 with an ERA below 5, but in the NBA an MVP candidate (Brandon Jennings, a stretch, but hey… he’s a candidate) is relegated to the rookie game.

Nevertheless, the concept of the All-Star Games and putting sledding on TV and calling it the Olympics is pretty old fashioned. You know, old fashioned like the mail delivery that led to the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue to be shoved through my door.

Look, even a beat-up and tired dude like me knows old-fashioned when he sees it and this time it was shoved through the mail slot in my door. So when I walked over to pick up the pile of magazines and junk mail on the ground, I saw Brooklyn Decker staring coquettishly from behind a bank statement. But rather than going for the rather flimsy-feeling magazine, I went for the bank statement. After all, in this age the fact that the bank is actually telling me I have money is the biggest turn-on.

Brooklyn Decker?

Yawn...

Look, as one of those so-called red-blooded Americans, I like half-naked women as much as the next person. Think about it... what else Americans really do well any more. There's all-you-can-eat buffets; whining about the weather; spiraling, out-of-control credit debt; and scantily clad men and women. That's us.

U-S-A! U-S-A!

But c'mon, the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue? In 2010? Really?

Poor Brooklyn. She looks so hip, young and fresh on the cover of a magazine sold to a demographic filthy with men in their 40s. Is there anything less hip than that? Worse, in the age where we can see anything at any time with our onDemand and high-speed Internet connections, what's the point of the swimsuit issue? Is it for the exotic settings or top-level photography? The product placement for bathing suits that only 12 people in the world can squeeze in to?

Whatever it is, the formula doesn't seem to work anymore. Call it an anachronism to a different era when things like swimsuit models weren't ubiquitous. Back in its heyday, the swimsuit issue really cornered the market for such things. There was no Maxim or any other so-called men's lifestyle magazines littering the newsstands the way they do now. Actually, in the halcyon days of SI's swimsuit issue, it was all or nothing. If a guy wanted to see that sort of thing he had to go to the back corner of a drug store and reach to the highest shelf where they kept the Playboy and Penthouse wrapped in a brown paper bag (or at least that’s what I’m told).

Yes, the good old days. Sigh!

Yet here we are in the digital age and Sports Illustrated is sticking to its guns. Just like it does every year, the magazine offers up freakishly air-brushed and pushed up women dressed in impractical swim wear. Or, barring that, body paint.

Yep, been there, done that.

Maybe Sports Illustrated already knows its swimsuit issue is tired, yet keeps trotting it out there (and giving it away for free on its web site) because it can. Think about it, are there any other companies whose egos are so out of control [3]that they can fly staffs of people to remote points on the globe in order to take pictures of women next to nothing? When times were flush it was no big deal, but in this economic climate? Really? These days when folks are losing jobs and their homes, sweet, little, hipless Brooklyn strutting around in the Maldives in her fancy britches might be a little excessive.

Can't they just blue screen or Photoshop in the beach? Hell, they airbrush out everything else, right?

Can they brush out all the snow while they're at it?

[1] Am I allowed to lock them in the garage until the snow melts or school is back in session (whichever comes first)? Is that wrong?

[2] Is there a more perfect name for a champion ice skater than Dick Buttons? Silly question… the answer is no.

[3] You know, besides Bank of America, Bank of New York Mellon, Citigroup, JPMorgan Chase & Co., Merrill Lynch & Co., Morgan Stanley, State Street Corporation, Wells Fargo & Company, and Goldman Sachs

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Volume 2, No. 6: February 15, 2011

Volume 2, No. 5: February 8, 2011

Volume 2, No. 4: February 1, 2011

Volume 2, No. 3: January 25, 2011

Volume 2, No. 2: January 20, 2011

Volume 2, No. 1: January 4, 2011

Volume 1, No. 18: September 13, 2010

Volume 1, No. 17: September 2, 2010

Volume 1, No. 16: August 24, 2010

Volume 1, No. 15: August 5, 2010

Volume 1, No. 14: July 29, 2010

Volume 1, No. 13: July 22, 2010

Volume 1, No. 12: July 8, 2010

Volume 1, No. 11: May 6, 2010

Volume 1, No. 10: April 28, 2010

Volume 1, No. 9: April 20, 2010

Volume 1, No. 8: April 15, 2010

Volume 1, No. 7: March 30, 2010

Volume 1, No. 6: March 23, 2010

Volume 1, No. 5: March 18, 2010

Volume 1, No. 4: March 8, 2010

Volume 1, No. 3: March 2, 2010

Volume 1, No. 2: February 23, 2010

The Debut: February 17, 2010