More attention-grabbing than Lindsay Lohan, able to defame quarterbacks faster than Ben Roethlisberger can unzip his zipper at a college bar, and able to ruin a team in a season’s time. It’s a 49′er, it’s an Eagle, it’s a Cowboy, it’s a Bill, it’s a Bengal. It’s Terrell Owens.
That’s right, the Queen City has acquired the biggest homewrecker the NFL has ever seen. I could give you a million reasons why this move is crazy, but I only need one. This is the manchild who once said, “The only people that really matter are the people that are in my inner circle.” This means that he is an ass and a liar, because everyone knows that the only person who matters to Terrell is Terrell.
Ocho Crappo and T.O. on the same team? Truly. Two reality show wannabes not only sharing the same locker room, but the same field. Carson Palmer deserves better. T.O. will gather his pack of enablers and defame Palmer and the offense and take down the Bungals’ hopes of a division title and Super Bowl glory.
With plenty of company in the troublemaker department, including Tank Johnson (assault and unlawful possesion of a weapon), Antonio Bryant (wreckless and drunken driving), Cedric Benson (assault and DUI), at least T.O. may not have to worry about suspensions. What the hell happened to the team of my childhood? Boomer, can’t you do something about this?
All I know is that you can’t teach an old dog with diminished skills new tricks and especially to get a new attitude. Get your popcorn ready, but the drama is in town. If nothing else, it will be interesting to watch it play out. You know, kind of like a train wreck.
My first biking memory is of propping my banana-seated bicycle up against my family’s fence and then climbing that fence so that I could get on said banana seat. Gleefully, I pedaled and rode off. It was my first solo, two-wheeled bike ride and it was glorious. I was on my third lap around our cul de sac before I realized, “Shit. How am I going to get off this crazy thing?”
That pretty much summarizes my bicycling knowledge. How to get on, pedal and ultimately chafe like a melonfarmer after even the shortest of rides. So when Floyd Landis says, “I saw Lance Armstrong using drugs,” I’m not exactly speaking as an authority. I should probably stop here, but what fun is that? Let the speculation and uninformed opinion-making ensue!
I got dibs on whale sperm.
Apparently, there are a lot of ways to cheat in cycling. And Landis accuses Armstrong of the following:
Transfusing his own blood and having a strong aversion to garlic.
Dating Sheryl Crow. While not performance enhancing, Landis found it “kind of creepy.”
Landis said that Armstrong received blood transfusions during races. It’s unclear if it was Armstrong’s own blood or the blood of 1,000 purified super-cycling babies! Further confounding, how was Armstrong able to pedal with all those cumbersome tubes?
Armstrong was known to “cut the legs off drifters” and use them to power up the Tour’s steep mountain climbs.
Instead of water, Armstrong would drink the tears of newly orphaned children. While unnecessarily salty, the thought of their pain delighted and motivated him.
Armstrong gave Landis testosterone patches in an effort to get Landis to stop being such a “gaping weeping vagina” about all the doping in cycling.
Armstrong has not answered this round of allegations directly, but his attorney, Tim Herman had this to say:
Landis is a confessed perjurer and he is a liar, and I think, as Lance said … when you taste milk to see if it’s sour, you take a first taste and you don’t have to drink the whole carton to know it’s all sour.
http://verto.net/public/2009/05/28/milkshake/
Take that for what you will, but it sounds like Armstrong has gone “downtown” with Landis. If you know what I mean. And I think you do. Sinner.
It seems to me that cycling is dividing into two distinct skills — riding a bike and, more importantly, getting away with cheating. And according to Landis, Armstrong was the perfect synthesis of super-cheating cycling power. And admittedly, I have no idea if Armstrong cheated. I hope he didn’t. But, considering how dirty the sport is isn’t it difficult to believe he’d be able to beat so many doped Frenchmen powered by only Wheaties and apple pie?
Look at the evidence; could a clean athlete win the All-Drug Olympics?
We may never know for sure. But we do know that right now Lance Armstrong wants to get off this crazy thing.
So yeah, guess who just got busted on June 30 for DUI in Georgia? I can only imagine what the Georgia smokey must have been thinking when he discovered the driver he pulled over was none other than the University of Georgia’s Athletic Director, Damon Evans. Not only did the trooper smell booze, but something else in the car caught his eye: a pair of red panties. Being a consummate investigator, the trooper asked Evans about the underwear. According to the official report Evans offered a perfectly reasonable explanation regarding why he was in possession of his 28-year-old passenger’s unmentionables:
“She took them off and I held them because I was just trying to get her home.”
Of course! As the driver, it was his responsibility to handle her panties. So that’s what Evans meant in the PSA when he urged,
“Choose a designated driver before each game and have a safe drive home.”
Evans is set to appear in a Georgia court on July 12. It is unclear as to whether he was fired by University officials or if he resigned, but either way he will be getting a three month severance package amounting to well over 100 grand.
What the hell? Evans commits a criminal act and garners a six figure severance package. Great. Crime pays and evidently so does the University of Georgia. If I were a parent of a UGA student I would be livid. What kind of lesson is the university teaching with that sort of reward for criminal behavior? Especially when the accused is caught red handed, admits to what he did and there is no doubt as to the validity of the charge. And if the severance wasn’t in his contract, and the UGA attorneys offered the pay out as a “settlement” than that’s just as wrong. Drunk drivers kill people. This is serious shit and it is outrageous Evans is being paid anything at all. I don’t give a rat’s ass if the severance appears in his contract or not. Wrong is wrong. Illegal is illegal is illegal.
Evans should make a designation of his own and donate the severance money to charity, as long as it doesn’t cause hardship for his wife and kids.
You ever date someone who was out of your league? You know, someone just above your pay grade. Maybe he or she was coming off an abusive relationship, or was very lonely or maybe they felt misunderstood and unappreciated or maybe she was really a man playing duck-and-cover, but regardless, they were with you and you just kind of felt innately insufficient. Your insecurities would manifest themselves whenever you would be introduced as a couple. “She? Is with him? . . . That makes sense.”
Maybe it wasn’t even true. Maybe the other party felt happy, even lucky to have you. That’d be great, but it wouldn’t help if you didn’t believe it. It’s a tough place to be. You spend half your time convincing yourself you’re beautiful enough on the inside to overcome your other deficiencies and the other half of the time trying to convince your soon-to-be ex the same. The desperation is ultimately a turn off. Maybe you had been good enough after all.
And maybe, if instead of being just a single desperate person, you were an entire team in a city of desperate people and you had a PR department that had video editing software:
If you are a fan of the NBA at all, or watch Sportscenter, or Larry King, or listen to NPR, or – ok, basically, if your head doesn’t reside inside your colon – you know by now that LeBron James is an NBA free agent. While July 1 was the official first day of NBA free agency, the frenzy surrounding LeBron has swirled all season and we are only now in the midst of its climax.
James has spent his seven year NBA career with the Cavaliers in his hometown (or exceedingly close to his hometown, Akron.) And personally he has been very successful, twice winning the NBA’s MVP award. But his teams have fallen short. The Cavs reached the Finals in 2007, but were unceremoniously swept by the Spurs. Since that year, the Cavs have failed to achieve even that.
The Cavs have failed, it’s true. But not from lack of trying. They’ve remade the roster multiple times over the past few years. They have sacrificed long-term stability and talent in an effort to win “now.” These moves seemed like they would help and did help in the regular season, but somehow the whole hasn’t equaled the sum of the parts come playoff time. And sadly, LeBron and Cleveland have remained without a championship.
We're good enough; we're smart enough; and gosh darnit, people like us!
LeBron is not without culpability in those roster decisions. Undoubtedly, the team asked for his input. His failure to commit to the organization long-term limited their ability to make moves and hurt them in drawing free agents. I don’t know if LeBron will factor his complicity into his free agency decision-making process. That’s a nuanced view of things and it’s probably easier for him to say, “Hey, you didn’t give me good enough teammates to get it done.”
I am a Cavs fan and a native Clevelander. I love it here. I know it’s not for everyone. Some people like all their seasons sunny and 80 and that’s fine. There are many mid-January mornings when I’m scraping ice off my car that I wouldn’t mind a little more sunshine. And some people don’t like it when their rivers catch fire. That doesn’t bother me as much as 40-year-old jokes. And there are those who hate Drew Carey. Okay. He seems like a nice guy, but it’s understandable.
But the thing that irks me is the utter contempt with which some would besmirch my hometown. They find it so despicable that they can’t envision LeBron staying here, even though he grew up here. They think that even though he was born and raised here and most of those whom he holds nearest are here, the place is somehow not “big” enough to contain him. He is somehow short-changing himself by not moving on to the “bigger city.” Give me a break. I mean, I know living in Cleveland is the number one cause of death in these United States, but the criticism is a little much.
In short, I hate where you live too. Now stop trying to sign LeBron.
Wednesday I decided to take an early “lunch” and head up to a bar near my office to watch the US take on Algeria for a chance to advance to the round of 16 at the World Cup. I couldn’t find any other takers at the office, so I’d be watching the game “alone.” Fitting.
How does the airplane go? (Timothy A. Clary/AFP/Getty Images)
I have watched many US games on my own. I really started paying attention to US soccer during World Cup 2002. That Cup was held in South Korea/Japan, making start times in the States in the wee hours of the morning. 3 or 4 a.m., whee. I spent a lot of time bleary-eyed yelling at the TV as the US advanced to the quarter-finals and lost to Germany 2-nil (there are no zeros in soccer).
So, I’ve played and watched soccer for years now. Pay extra attention to what I have to say. I am smart and my brow protrudes in an attempt to contain my massive cranial body, just like Darwin.
World Cup Observations:
I don’t care how cold it is. If you need to wear mittens when you’re playing, maybe you aren’t running hard enough. I know it’s chilly, but run or something.
The vulvas or whatever those damn annoying horns are have finally receded into the distance for me. Or maybe they’ve just become a constant background noise to my life. And maybe I’m not going to KILL THE PRIME MINISTER OF MALAYSIA!
REPLAY! It’s most needed in soccer. They worry about interrupting the flow of the game, but that replay shit is instantaneous, for serious. I would especially like to see it on any goals/potential goals, cards in the box, red cards, maybe a couple of other situations. I don’t find the “flow” arguments compelling.
Giusseppe Rossi is at home, like the rest of the Italian team. Kid grew up in Jersey to Italian parents. After spending some time on some junior US squads, he ended up fulfilling his dream of playing for Italy. I don’t really begrudge him that, if that’s his dream, godspeed. But I’m jingoistic enough for that to rub me the wrong way. It all seems so . . . un-American to me. What is America but the place where you remember your heritage while embracing your new homeland? So, I will admit to schadenfreude when he didn’t make team Italy (although maybe he should have) and then it was pure delight when Italia finished last in their group and bid arrivederci to South Africa. Yes. I am petty and small.
Flopping is irritating. These dudes go down easier than a Denny’s grand slam breakfast. I’m probably on the far end of disbelief though. Every time a guy takes a tumble, I’m immediately saying, “Look at him flop like a gutted fish!” And then I see the replay and he took a shank to the face and I say, “Okay, that probably hurt.”
One of my favorite things to watch for is the crowd shots when mostly-impartial South Africans fans get caught up in the celebrations of other nation’s fans: “I don’t really care, but this is kind of fun!”
The US should score more and maybe not procrastinate so much this afternoon. I mean, very exciting ending vs. Algeria, but I could go for a little “easier” of a win.
There are your tips. Tune in this afternoon and watch probably the biggest game in US soccer history. Let’s win it.
