Here's a fun game, based on research I did with the Federal Elections Commission (and with the help of the archives of Newsmeat.com): I'll give you a player/sports figure and amount donated to a 2008 Presidential Election campaign, you tell me who the donation went to. Your campaign choices are:
Hillary Clinton; Chris Dodd; John Edwards; Rudy Giuliani; Mike Huckabee; John McCain; Barack Obama; Mitt Romney; Fred Thompson
If you see more than one dollar figure, that means that sports figure donated to two campaigns!
Ready to play? Post your guesses in the comments section. NO FAIR CHEATING! Winner gets some sort of fabulous prize (to be determined later).
Lakers legend and terrible talk show host Magic Johnson ($4,600 & $2,300):
Boxing promoter and convicted manslaughterer Don King ($4,600):
Zen coach Phil Jackson ($4,600):
Equine-featured Hall of Fame QB John Elway ($2,300):
The Round Mound of Rebound Charles Barkley ($2,ooo):
Tennis icon Martina Navratilova ($1,000):
Tennis legend and FOE (Friend of Elton) Billie Jean King ($4,600):
Cleveland Indians reliever JD Martin ($2,000):
Pasty Celtics great Danny Ainge ($2,300):
NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell ($2,300):
HBO boxing mouthpiece Larry Merchant ($2,300):
Pine tar enthusiast (and hemorrhoids sufferer) George Brett ($2,300):
NBA Star and walking injury risk Grant Hill ($2,300):
NASCAR superstar Jeff Gordon ($2,300):
AL MVP Alex Rodriguez ($2,300):
New York Knick and lover of interns Stephon Marbury ($4,600):
Stiff Oakland Raiders and Arizona St. QB Andrew Walter ($500):
The Real Home Run King Hank Aaron ($2,300):
Warriors point guard and burly beard man Baron Davis ($2,300):
NFL MVP and advertiser's wet dream Peyton Manning ($2,300):
Noted French-Canadian Mario Lemiuex ($2,300):
Navy man Roger Staubach ($2,300):
NBA Commissioner David Stern ($4,600):
Cubs first baseman (who is not better than Albert Pujols, Chicago fan) Derrek Lee ($9,200):
Dodgers announcing legend Vin Scully ($2,100):
BONUS QUESTION: Which Presidential candidate did Deadspin's Will Leitch contribute to, and for what amount?
Is there anything better than ESPN signing Bob Knight to be part of their NCAA tournament coverage? No, no there isn't. You might remember that ESPN is where Coach Knight went for his one interview after getting fired from Indiana. It didn't go to well, as he wound up getting into a pissing match with interviewer Jeremy Schaap and storming off the set.
You really can't blame Mayweather - he's pretty much made for this sort of activity, and it's a ton of free publicity for his upcoming rematch against Oscar De La Hoya. And by "free" I mean "getting paid $20 million." It's a better version of "free" than getting a "free" Rhapsody download with an upsize combo at Wendy's.
Of course, when you think boxing and wrestling coming together, there's one thing that comes to mind: Rocky Balboa vs. Thunderlips in Rocky III. Certainly Hulk Hogan's best cinematic work, with Santa with Muscles coming in a close second:
I don't know about you, but when I'm feeling sick, nothing picks me up more than a Leroy Neiman sighting...
Now, this isn't the first time that real life boxers have mixed it up with "fake" wrestlers in forms of cross-promotion. Even The Greatest "lowered" himself to taking on wrestlers, not once but twice. The first was against the legendary Gorilla Monsoon, where he got involved in a match after watching at ringside. Needless to say, Ali does not fare well against the big bruiser:
This was all part of the build-up to Ali's match against Japanese wrestler Antonio Inoki. Was it worked (i.e. fake) or shoot (real)? If it was worked, then it was made to be terribly, terribly boring. Rules were set and then changed at the last minute that limited Inoki's abilities to grapple or kick. So he basically just took on a crab-like position on his back and kicked a bit for 15 rounds, while Ali refused to get close enough to land a punch. Theater at its most absurd:
Part of the undercard to the fight was Andre the Giant vs. "The Bayonne Bleeder" Chuck Wepner. While probably more of a work at first, make sure that you watch the second part, when Wepner actually clocks Andre and pisses him off. Bad idea.
Part 1 (also, check out the sweet-assed Harley Davidson a young Vince McMahon is hawking between rounds):
Part 2:
Vince McMahon had wanted Mike Tyson in the 1990s. Bad. And a deal was in place for him to work as Special Guest Referee in match pitting Hulk Hogan versus "Macho King" Randy Savage on NBC's Main Event III in February of 1990. Right after Tyson took care of dispatching a certain tomato can in a fight in Tokyo named James "Buster" Douglas.
History tells us how that turned out. McMahon quickly recovered, and offered Tyson's spot to America's Favorite Underdog, who probably wishes his first title defense was against Randy Savage instead of Evander Holyfield:
And can we please, please get Jesse Ventura back doing WWE matches?
Vince McMahon eventually did get his man, post-jail. It started off great with the first confrontation between Iron Mike and Stone Cold Steve Austin. Although things went south when Tyson, in his first "promo", kept referring to his opponent as Cold Stone, a devastating blow to the wrestler, a lifelong fan of Thrifty's ice cream:
I'm sure there are other examples that I'm blanking on, right? I'm pretty sure I've seen Hector "Macho" Camacho or Jorge Paiz on Lucha Libre while flipping through the Spanish channels.
Meet Paul Gascoigne. Known as Gazza to England soccer fans, the former captain is perhaps best-known for his emotional, tearful reaction after receiving a red card in England's semi-final game against Germany in the 1990 World Cup, knowing that meant he would have to miss the final game if England advanced (they didn't).
That, and being a massive drunk and drug-addict. You can probably guess the cycle: binge, get caught, express shame, "get clean", relapse, etc. It's the same story you've probably heard thousands of times before, with the same "I've cleaned up my act this time!' story running every few years, to break the time between the next report of his latest escapades.
He holed up in his room for two months, with his only companion being toy parrots that he treated as real and had programmed to swear at guests in the lobby (where he would sometimes appear with a fake parrot on his shoulder)
He ordered plate after plate of liver from room service, saying that "it was good for his blood"
Female staff was barred from his room since he had a habit of answering the door naked
My favorite story, though, is that he had recently checked himself into a rehab clinic in the US for a month (at a cost of £16,000) to treat his crippling addiction. Not to cocaine or alcohol, which he clearly was still happy to keep doing. But to Red Bull.
How much Red Bull was Gazza drinking? How about 50 cans. A day. I cannot even fathom how one could possibly choke down 50 cans of that vile swill, much less how one's system could survive. If I have more than one in one day (or night), I feel like I'm Redd Foxx, getting ready to "have the big one." I start twitching and shaking, I get sweaty and jittery - basically, I turn into Bill Belichik getting prepared for the post-Super Bowl press conference.
Honestly...50 cans of Red Bull a day? How does that even happen? Do you start at a couple of cans, and then that doesn't work, so you go to five? Then 10? Then 25? Was Jolt cola the "gateway" drug into the harder stuff? And why not 75 or 100 - Gazza was always the "ultimate competitor," so why not go for something truly amazing and set the bar so high that not even Kobayashi could beat it?
I have a new rule for living, one that I should have learned a while ago: doctors lie to their patients all of the time. For example, if they say that you'll be "up and around the next day" after a surgery, what they actually mean is "five days later, you'll still feel like barely warmed-over death." It's a slight, subtle difference between the two.
As fknmclane mentioned earlier, I've been down since Thursday after having...well, I guess it's fair to say that they pretty much removed my sinuses and decided to "start from scratch." It's five days on now, and I still feel lousy - I can't breathe, my nose hurts and is still oozing blood/water/mystery liquid (brain juice? transmission fluid? Tang?) every few minutes. Plus, I'm tired. Really, really tired. Like, "falling asleep at my desk" tired. At least my office passive-aggressively guilt-tripped me into coming into work today instead of working from home.
Good times!
Expect the posts to be even more bizarre and meandering than usual - at least until I can get through a day without washing my Vicodin down with a whiskey chaser. So, probably early April.
If you didn't know, the Texas primary is coming up, and the rules for the Democratic primary are complicated. Very, very complicated. Basically, it's a two-part process that involves a primary vote (with delegates awarded based on a complex formula based on voter turn out in each State Senate district in the 2004 and 2006 general elections) and caucuses immediately after the primary voting closes.
Driving voters to the polls or a caucus is tough enough; imagine getting them to both on the same night. Especially when both candidates are targeting new voters who might not fully grasp the process. But you don't even have to be a voting neophyte in order to be confused by this process. Even Dallas Mayor Ron Kirk admitted at a Barack Obama rally today that he "didn't fully understand" the state's primary process before introducing someone who to explain it to the crowd in a clear, easy-to-understand manner.
This guy:
Yes, Emmitt Smith. The same guy who has become a running joke on The Jimmy Kimmel Show for his mangling of the English language as an ESPN analyst. I'm guessing that if explaining the complexities of football is too taxing on someone's speaking skills, you might not want him to be person responsible for getting potential voters to understand the nuances of a complicated voting process:
KXAS in Dallas has footage from the rally on their Web site. I didn't actually hear him explain the voting procedures, but still, it's fascinating. Let's make this a game - see how many grammatical errors you can catch! My favorite is Smith saying that "this man is straightforward, he's serious about his business, and he know what he has to do." The point where he thanked "Mr. Barack..." is a close second.
With the support of someone "as sharp as a whistle" as Smith, maybe Obama can "blowed out" Clinton and put a stranglehold on this campaign.
Did you enjoy your President's Day weekend vacation? I enjoyed me the hell out of mine. As fknmclane mentioned earlier, we got together with a group of our RBI Baseball friends in my hometown of Los Angeles this past weekend. It was, to put it mildly, a lot of fun. I really can't describe most of what was said or done for the sake of common decency, but I will say that if any friends or family members of deceased child star Jonathan Brandis were within earshot of Rusty's Surf Ranch in Santa Monica, I sincerely apologize.
This weekend was also great, because it was the Daytona 500. In terms of excitement, I'd give this year's race a solid B+ rating. Nobody finished the race upside down and on fire, but the final 40 laps or so had a lot of drama and tension. Now is probably a good time to look back at some of the key points from my pre-race primer to see where I was a genius and where I was a complete idiot.
The Car of Tomorrow/The New Car/That Thing They Drive In: Pre-race, there was a lot of concern about how the New Car (formerly The Car of Tomorrow, err, yesterday) would handle in a restrictor plate race. Would it discourage pack racing and bring back the Slingshot? Would it be woefully squirrelly in traffic and cause several huge accidents? Would it come with XM or Sirius?
In retrospect, the New Car worked at Daytona. If anything, the large rear spoiler helped several drivers (notably Kurt Busch early) save the car after getting loose, where with the old car, they probably would have triggered a multi-car accident. And the racing was consistently entertaining all race long (a race that was relatively quick, timewise, because of the lack of cautions), with 49 lead changes (compared to just 13 last year).
Should we expect this every week? Let's wait and see how it handles at a mid-size oval like California Speedway this week. As Winston Wolf might say, let's not go around sucking each others...umm...private areas...just yet.
The Rick Hendrick Experience: In short, it wasn't good. Of the four Hendrick Motorsports drivers, only Dale Earnhardt Jr. finished in the top 25. His other three teammates (Jimmie Johnson, Jeff Gordon and Casey Mears) had various mechanical problems, pit problems and/or crashes that relegated to the bottom half of the final race standings.
Oh, What a Near-Miss Feeling...Toyota!: To say that this weekend was a bit bittersweet for Toyota is an understatement. Tony Stewart won the Nationwide race on Saturday driving a Toyota, with Joe Gibbs Racing teammate Kyle Busch finishing second. Then, in the big race on Sunday, Toyotas lead 138 of the 200 laps...but not the one that matters. Still, it's a long, long way from last season, when Toyota was struggling to get any of their drivers in the field, much less make them competitive.
And oh yeah, Toyota also won the Craftsman Truck series race with Todd Bodine on Friday. Which basically is just an excuse for me to post this video of a bad, bad crash from the race. Everyone walked away unharmed:
Busch vs. Stewart, Round Whatever: In what had to be delicious ironing for Kurt Busch, he was able to act as a drafting partner to help Penske teammate Ryan Newman pass Tony Stewart on the final lap for the win, after Stewart chose to not block Newman by staying in the high line, instead ducking down to the low side in hopes that his teammate and Kurt's brother Kyle would help him out. But Kyle was too far back, and by the time he got to Stewart, the damage was done.
And give Kurt Busch some credit for not gloating about it after the race. It did show some class. Although the guy did have surgery one off-season to have his ridiculous jug ears pinned back, which is actually somehow a step below Charlie Weis' gastric bypass in my book.
Remember a few years ago, when the US was turning into NASCAR NATION(tm)? How the media convinced us that, within the next two to three years, NASCAR was going to be part of the average sports fans' lives just as much as the NFL, NBA or MLB? That NASCAR had crossed over from a highly successful niche sport to the "mainstream"?
Yeah, weird, right?
The simple fact is that, as we approach this Sunday's 50th running of the Daytona 500, NASCAR is still a niche sport appealing to a select subset of the population. Granted, it is more popular than it ever has been, and that "niche" is one that most other sports (say, the NHL) would slice their own carotid arteries for. (Editor's note: Too soon?) People like Jeff Gordon, Dale Earnhardt Jr. and Tony Stewart aren't just drivers - they are brands, packaged and sold to willing consumers. Even if you don't watch NASCAR, you know the drivers and their ready-made "personalities", and Madison Avenue thinks that this will lead to you buying products because of them.
The majority of the NASCAR story has less to do with racing and more to do with marketing, advertising, TV ratings...all of the "behind the scenes" stuff that writers like to write about, because it gives them a chance to show their "expertise" in their subject, and talk about "real world" stuff like "big business" so they can pretend that their beat is about something tangible and real and not writing about people going around in a circle really fast.
But what about the racing - you know, the thing that is supposed to be the big draw? For millions of fans, this weekend is their one time to experience NASCAR - they might watch this weekend because they know it's the "Super Bowl of stock car racing" and then not watch another race the rest of the season. If NASCAR is lucky, it's a great race with a dramatic crash, and maybe a spectacular crash that everyone walks away from. If NASCAR is incredibly lucky, that all happens at once, like last year:
So if this is the only NASCAR race you're planning on watching this year, allow me to give you a primer on a few pre-race storylines to keep your eye on (basically, the things that Fox will be drilling into your head all race long):
The Car of Tomorrow Never Knows: Last year, NASCAR began phasing in the Car of Tomorrow at select races in the second half of the season. This is the first time it will be used in the Daytona 500. What is the Car of Tomorrow? It's like an old NASCAR car, except boxier and slower. (Which is a weird way to think of "the Car of Tomorrow" I always pictured jet packs, and being able to take a nap in the back while the new "cruise control" steers you to your destination.) The idea of the COT (a lousy acronym for what you would probably want to portray as a sexy, sleek race car) was two-fold: reduce costs and increase safety.
In practical purposes, the COT reduced the impact of aerodynamics on the car (think about the difference between an airfoil going through a jetstream versus a brick). Which in theory is great, because that lessened the "all in a line" style of racing where no one dared jump out to pass for fear that they would lose the draft and shuffle back 30 spots. The reality is that a lot of drivers complained that the COT was "difficult to drive" or "sucked." The essential complaint was that the lack of aerodynamics made it tougher to drive side-by-side, since you could get a lot of "dirty air" and go all over the place.
What does this mean for Sunday? Wait and see. We learned something from the exhibition Budweiser Shootout this past Saturday night: you can pull a "slingshot" and pass a group of drivers - essentially shooting out of the draft to gain momentum on a pack of cars long enough to pass and then get ahead and back in line. We'll know more after the qualifying Duels on Thursday about how the cars react in long stretches with 20 or more car fields. I'm cautiously optimistic that the racing will improve throughout the 200 laps, and break from the format that's plagued NASCAR in recent years: nothing for 125 laps, big crash, nothing for 50 laps, then racing starts with 25 laps to go.
The Rick Hendrick Experience: There is no doubt that Hendrick Motorsports is the dominant force in NASCAR today. With Jeff Gordon and Jimmie Johnson, his drivers have won two of the last three Daytona 500s (six overall for his team), and Johnson and Gordon finished 1-2 in drivers points last season. Add former Daytona 500 winner Dale Earnhardt Jr., and there is no question that this is the team to beat this year - especially since Hendrick Motorsports clearly had the best COT program last season. Have the other teams caught up?
Toyota in NASCAR: Turning Japanese? - Toyota's first season in the Sprint Cup last season was anything but smooth. Because their marquee team (Michael Waltrip Racing) was new, they weren't automatically in the field and had to race their way in (and frequently did not). And even when Toyotas did race, the results were spotty at best: two poles, one Top 5 and six Top 10 finishes all season. Not unexpected, but disappointing.
But the off-season brought a savior in the form of Joe Gibbs Racing. Sick of being the second or third team in the Chevy stable, JGR decided to defect and become the lead team for the Toyota brand, bringing two drivers who made the Chase last year - Tony Stewart and Denny Hamlin. There was no question that this was a coup for Toyota - it meant instant credibility, and the other Toyota teams would benefit from the expertise, knowledge and resources that JGR could contribute to making the Toyotas more competitive. For JGR, it's definitely a gamble to go with a manufacturer that is unproven at NASCAR's highest level. But no one questions Toyota's commitment, and they've become dominant in the NASCAR truck series.
I find it interesting to re-read articles from several years ago about how NASCAR fans would never embrace Toyota "invading" their All-American racin'. Frankly, it was a lot of garbage by sportswriters who don't understand NASCAR fans, continually underestimate their intelligence, and who probably watched "Gung Ho" too many times in HBO in the 1980s (when it seemed to run on a 24-hr loop with "Rad" and Romancing the Stone"). Just as many NASCAR fans drive Toyotas and Fords or Chevys (and if sales numbers are to be believed, probably more). Hell, more NASCAR fans probably work at a Toyota plant in the US than at a Ford or Chevy plant in the US. NASCAR fans are savvier than you think.
Stewart vs. Busch - I Couldn't Think of a Cute, Music-Related Title: When the two most hot-headed drivers in NASCAR keep wrecking each other, things are going to get ugly. Last year, they wrecked each other out of the 500 when they probably had the two best cars. Then later in the year in Dover, Busch decided to "buzz" Stewart's car after an on-track incident by rubbing into him in the pits, a stupid and dangerous move that could have caused an innocent crew member to get injured. NASCAR docked Busch $100,000 and 100 points for that.
So what happened in practice this week? Yup, Stewart and Busch wrecked in practice, with each side having a different story of what happened. Busch retaliated by again banging Stewart's car under caution (this time on the track), while Stewart blocked the entrance to pit lane to annoy Busch. This got them both hauled into the NASCAR hauler for a lecture by the brass, where things remained heated and Stewart may or may not have (depending on who you believe) socked Busch square in the nose.
The upshot? NASCAR, following an off-season edict to let drivers "show more emotion," responded with a slap on the wrist - six race probation for each driver. Needless to say, if they are battling for position on Sunday, it's going to be really interesting. After all, it was a fistfight that brought NASCAR truly out of the South and into the mainstream almost 30 years ago...
WASHINGTON, DC - After earlier announcing that they had promoted recently-hired offensive coordinator Jim Zorn to fill their head coaching vacancy, an embarrassed Washington Redskins organization were forced to hire avant-garde jazz musician and composer John Zorn as their head coach after a series of clerical errors.
"Accoring to what our lawyers tell me, we are on the hook to pay John Zorn $3.5 million over the next three years," said Redskins owner Daniel Snyder, "and I'm not a person who is going to let that kind of money go to waste. If we're going to be paying this beatnik that kind of money, we might as well get some value out of it. Plus, we've been looking for a head coach forever, and we were probably going to have to hire a new one next year anyway, so whatever."
Snyder explained that a formal contract was drawn up by the team's legal department, but a smudging of the ink on a handwritten note made the first name appear to read "John." From there, a series of what Snyder called "regrettable missteps and lack of oversight" lead to a contract being delivered to the jazz autumns, known for his forays into hardcore, filmic and klezmer music - mixing traditional jazz and chaotic noise. It is believed that John Zorn signed the contract without reading it, believing it to be another MacArthur Genius Grant.
Jim Zorn will still be retained by the team as offensive coordinator, Snyder said. Jim Zorn said that he has been "pouring over these game pieces to figure out what kind of offense he wants us to run - to be honest, I'm pretty stumped at this point."
You know the old joke, right? "I went to a fight the other night and a hockey game broke out!" I guess after this weekend, we might need to update that joke a bit: "I went to a hockey game, and a GOD DAMNED SLASHER FILM BROKE OUT!!!"
Note: All of the videos I'm posting are graphic and bloody to varying degrees (actually, from least to most, coincidentally). The fact that it appears that everyone involved will live to tell the tale is the only reason I'm posting them at all.
First, on Saturday night: linesman Pat Dapuzzo took a skate to the face in the Flyers/Rangers game. Dapuzzo wound up needing at least 20 stitches and a possible broken nose. Meanwhile, immediately after Dapuzzo was struck, a multi-player brawl broke out. Amazingly, Dapuzzo got up and tried to skate over to the scrum to help break things up until he was convinced by the medical staff to skate off and get attention.
So, yeah, it's not just the players who are tough.
Then tonight in Buffalo...during the Panthers' games against the Sabres, Richard Zednik took a skate to the throat from teammate Olli Jokinen, severing his jugular vein. Needless to say, that's even worse than a skate to the face. Zednik somehow skated off the ice and into the arms of medical personnel, where he apparently collapsed in the tunnel on the way to the back. Miraculously, as of right now (10:32 p.m. on Sunday night), Zednik is reported to be a stable condition after surgery and is expected to make a full recovery.
Of course, this had be a horrible flashback to longtime Sabres fans. Back in 1989, Buffalo goaltender Clint Malarchuk had his throat slashed in a game, severing his carotid artery, spilling copious amounts of blood onto the ice. (This is what Sabres play-by-play Rick Jeanneret is referencing in the last video when he says that he's seen someone bleed like that once before, but didn't like discussing it.) Essentially, he was bleeding to death right there in the crease. (The phrase I've heard to describe the incident is "gushes of blood with every heartbeat." The similarities to the Zednik situation tonight are just eerie. Only the quick thinking of the medical personnel saved Malarchuk's life, and he was even able to rejoin the team for the playoffs just a few later.
WARNING: THIS IS 100 TIMES MORE GRAPHIC THAN ANY OF THE OTHER TWO VIDEOS. IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH, DON'T WATCH THIS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Assuming a full recovery for Zednik, the question now becomes: should the game have continued as it did, after a lengthy delay (where they had to bring out a Zamboni to scrape the blood off of the ice). NHL vice-president Colin Campbell (who was in attendance to watch his son play for the Flyers) consulted with the two teams and NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman, and after word arrived that Zednik was at the hospital and stable, a decision was made to finish the game.
Should they have stopped the game? I don't think anyone would have minded if they did. Knowing that Zednik had been stabilized, I can see where the decision would be made that "OK, things are looking more promising, let's finish the game." Honestly, I have no idea what I would have done. Most bloggers want to have THE DEFINITIVE ANSWER TO EVERY SITUATION, and want to rip any decision they don't like. But there are some situations where there are no "good answers," and I guess the best upshot out of all of this is that the story in the following days is going to be whether or not the game should have been stopped because of a serious injury, and not talking about a player dying on the ice. (And I don't understand how scientists can develop the technology to harness wasted energy from walking to create battery power, as I heard on NPR today, but they can't make a skate that won't slice someone's main arteries on contact.)
And in case you were curious, it apparently takes more than a player almost dying on ice in horrific fashion for the NHL to be the lead story on SportsCenter. The 11 p.m. Pacific edition had the UNC/Clemson and UCLA/Washington basketball games, Daytona 500 qualifying, and then the story on Zednik. But I'm sure that editorial decision had nothing to do with the fact that ESPN are broadcast partners with NCAA basketball and NASCAR, but not with the NHL. In fact, how dare I even bring it up?
Jesus, McLane, you people in Arizona sure do take your liquor licenses seriously! Although I bet if you asked Bill Belichik if he could go back and convince this guy to open fire on the Super Bowl, in exchange for the game being canceled and the Patriots not losing, he'd have to think long and hard about it.
NBA announces "Day of Community Service" in New Orleans before the All-Star game; roughly one-quarter of all players call their lawyer to see if "this counts" towards their court-mandated sentences.
Apparently, training to be a sumo wrestler is like Green Beret boot camp, except with more beer bottles being smashed into your head and being attacked with baseball bats until you are dead. Those wacky Japanese...
Nothing inspires head-scratching like a draw in soccer. As a US Soccer fan, should I feel upset that we couldn't beat our rival at home? Or good that we didn't lose in a game where we were outplayed for big chunks of the match? The day after a draw is sort of like the morning after a night of moderate drinking - you didn't have a blast; no one's panties wound up on your head, and you didn't fall into the pond outside of the bar. But, it was fun in a subdued way, and instead of having a massive hangover, you feel OK this morning, just a little "off."
That's what last night's game versus Mexico was like.
The excellent soccer blog That's On Point broke down the game and each players significantly better than I can, so I'll just summarize my feelings:
Once the Clint Dempsey goal was waved off, the wind was totally sucked out of the US team's sails. If it counts, the US is up 3-1, with all the momentum in the world. Mexico, basically, would have been done. Instead, it stays 2-1, Mexico starts outplaying the US afterwards and through the second half, and you have what you have. (And yes, it was offsides, clearly. Way to be on the ball with the replays, ESPN.)
Nice to see that sleepy, disinterested Landon Donovan can show up to US/Mexico games too, and not just in the World Cup.
Jozy Altidore...YES!!! A more skilled Brian McBride? (Which is saying a lot.) I don't know, but the kid is an absolute stud. Great to see him get his first start and make the most of it. That was a young team the US had on the field (as was Mexico's), and the US team is going to be better for the experience as WC Qualifying rolls around.
Michael Bradley had his first real clunker of a game for the US team, after looking like a Wunderkind in every other appearance. If this was the first game you've seen of the US lately, don't judge him on that one game and think "Coach's son, that's why he's playing": the kid is the real deal. Sometimes 20 year-olds play like they are 20.
Of course, there's no excuse for Bobby Convey. He seems like a nice guy and all, but...really? Starting against Mexico, in 2008? No awareness, no ability to make the crucial touch, getting stripped of the ball by defenders clean because he was trying to do more than his skills would allow...basically, he's like this relic of US National Teams past. If he's going to play, why not bring back Thomas Dooley? Maybe convince Mike Sorber to come out of retirement? For God's sake, get well soon DaMarcus!
Set piece defending...ugh. Bad flashbacks to, well, basically every World Cup we've ever played in. If we're starting a big, slow defense, shouldn't that be the one thing they do well?
The bottom line? The US team was outplayed, outcoached and outclassed last night. And still, the best Mexico could get was a draw. We're either so far in their heads that we're cooking ourselves some menudo for breakfast, or we got very, very lucky.
Tonight, another edition of the greatest rivalry in US sports takes place. And I'm not talking about Duke vs. North Carolina - like most "great rivalries," it's regionally based - it's something that is huge in a certain part of the country, but much less so outside of there. (i.e. New York vs. Boston in anything.) No, I'm talking about a rivalry that sparks nationalistic pride, fervor, anger, bitterness and usually quite a bit of spilled blood. I'm talking about the US vs. Mexico in soccer.
Sure, tonight's game in Houston is technically just a "friendly" with nothing on the line but pride. But for this rivalry, that's enough. We talk a lot about how much two teams "just don't like each other" all the time, but the truth is that they are all professional athletes with the same agents, who go to the same functions and parties and strip clubs, and half of each team was probably teammates with half of the other team at some point.
Not so with the US vs. Mexico. These two teams really don't like each other. The fans don't like each other. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if the ball boys come to blows at some point.
Here's a nice video summary of the rivalry to get you pumped up for tonight:
The nature of the rivalry is such that it actually makes me like Landon Donovan a little bit more. Now, I have a very love/hate relationship with Landy Cakes. Frankly, he's the most infuriating soccer player to follow. He's an incredibly gifted player who doesn't want to lead, which is why he was the perfect person to be the second banana to David Beckham on the Galaxy. He tried to go over to Germany to play - a move which would have raised the level of his play immensely - but came back after a few months because it was too hard, and he was "more comfortable" playing in the MLS. He can disappear in big games (i.e. the entire 2006 World Cup). In short, he's a role player when the US desperately needs him to be a leader.
Except for against Mexico. Landon Donovan hates the Mexican team and its fans, and the feeling is mutual. He lives for beating them. If we could convince him that every team he plays against is the Mexican National Team, he would be one of the top players in the world.
And you know who has two thumbs and hates the Mexican National Team? This guy! (Note: I'm pointing my thumbs at myself as I type, which is no easy feat.) And for me, it's personal.
In theory, I should have a soft spot for the Mexican team, since I'm a quarter Mexican myself (my grandmother on my dad's side was born in Aguascalientes, Mexico, and came to this country in the 1930s). I live in Los Angeles, so I'm around Latino culture all the time. I'm a good liberal and normally support a humane, rational immigration policy. In fact, SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS ARE MEXICAN!!!
So what happened? Well, I went to the 1998 Gold Cup finals against Mexico at the Coliseum in Los Angeles with my wife. On Valentine's Day. In fact, this was her present to me: the US had shocked Brazil in the semifinals, and she knew how excited I was about that. So, despite not being a soccer fan, she got us two tickets to see a fun, friendly game.
Of course, we didn't get to see the whole game, out of fear for our lives. And I'm not exaggerating. The stadium seats about 95,000 for soccer, and it was sold out. We were probably one of about 3,000 US fans, scattered through a sea of Tricolores. (Thanks to it being run by CONCACAF and not US soccer, they didn't keep the US fans together like usually happens.) We were the enemy in our own stadium (literally - I hadn't graduated from USC that long ago), and chum in the water.
Personally, I was the object of several missiles from above, including a cup of what I hope was beer and not piss, and a giant (and I mean giant) nacho cheese container that probably would have knocked me out cold if it had hit my head and not my shoulder. And a lot of people wanting to fight. All this for a) being a US soccer fan in Los Angeles and b) having the audacity to cheer and have a US flag. As for the team, along with boos drowning out the national anthem, pretty much any corner kick was a chance for Mexican fans to hurl anything they could grab onto the field and at the hapless US player trying to take a corner. It was insane. People had snuck flare guns through security, and were firing them into the crowd at random times. I shudder to think what else made it through the Coliseum's crack security.
After finally giving up and leaving at halftime in order to, you know, not get rendered limb from limb by the crowd, the liberal part of my brain was clashing with what just happened. I didn't want to be Pat Buchanan. But, how could people who move to this country (legally or not) and take advantage of all the freedoms and opportunities here then show up and basically piss on America for two hours. I found myself saying things like "if they hate America so much, they can leave," which always sounded awful coming from someone else. But there I was saying it, and believing it.
Years later, and I think I'm a little more savvy to the social reasons behind everything. Mexicans in America use these games as a chance to vent and get out all of their repressed anger at every slight and stupid, boorish thing any gringo has every done to them. I get that. But it still doesn't make me feel any better about how they act, or what they think is acceptable fan behavior. And frankly, it probably pisses the Mexican part of me off a little bit to see Mexicans acting like that - as someone who wants to have pride in my heritage, it's embarrassing. Mexican soccer fans are to me like that one uncle who always gets a little too drunk at family parties and starts hitting on his niece's 22 year-old friends.
One of the sporting highlights of my life was watching the US knock Mexico out of the 2002 World Cup, and then driving around LA with my friend, yelling choice invectives at any Mexican soccer fan I saw coming out of a bar with a "boo hoo" look on his face. It was crass, juvenile and totally beneath me. And I loved every second of it.
Bonus for tonight: ESPN has finally wised up and revamped their announcing team. Out goes play-by-play man and embarrassment to American soccer fans Dave "Christian Ronaldo" O'Brien and Jim Rome's best friend Eric Wynalda, and in comes veteran soccer announcer JP Dellacamera and John Harkes. A soccer game announced by someone who actually knows soccer? Crazy.
Seeing as though you'll be moving to the Phoenix area sometime very soon, I thought I would go out of my way to help with the relocation process by helping you get acclimated to your new city and letting you know exactly where you can find your essential items for daily living. Knowing your habits, I'm sure you'll be glad to know that chili cheese nachos for 99 cents can be found a short drive from anywhere in the Phoenix area. You can rest easy now.
Best wishes, The Duke of Kickball
P.S. - Good luck getting up and down the court with the running Suns! I have visions of the fat, middle-aged guy who decides to "cherry pick" every other basket in a pick-up game because he's too out of shape to play full-court.
I was 4 for 4 in picking Tom Petty's set list for the Super Bowl halftime show. Not just which songs he would play, but also in the order in which he would play them.
I swear, if you could have bet money on this, I would be in Tahiti right now...
Having your birthday fall on Super Bowl is not a good thing for your liver, or for your ability to make it to work on time the next day. Needless to say, I was somewhat...not prepared...to post about the Super Bowl last night. Any post I would have made would have been nothing but a breathless series or incoherent, expletive-filled exclamations. And we already have one writer for the blog who provides that with every post. (Editor's Note: Zing.)
I spent the first three quarters trying to decide how to sum up what some people might call a "gripping defensive struggle," while others would say it "sucked on toast." And then the fourth quarter came, and then...well, at this point you know the rest. But here I am, on Monday morning, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Eli Manning didn't just win the Super Bowl, he's he's now a Super Bowl legend.
To quote John Wayne, the whole thing rigoddamneddiculous.
With 2:42 left, and the Patriots having just scored a go-ahead touchdown, I was sitting at my friend's place and thinking my Super Bowl Prediction Haiku was going to be pretty damned prescient: the Giants had hung around, but the Patriots decided at the last minute to do just enough to win. Yes, it was going to be another underwhelming win, but it was going to be 19 in a row this season, and it would be pretty tough to argue with that.
And then...Eli Freakin' Manning.
You know who leads their team the length of the field for a Super Bowl-winning touchdown with less than two minutes to play? Joe Montana. And apparently now, Eli Manning. I mean, once Tom Brady threw that touchdown to Randy Moss, we all knew that it was over, right? Even with as "magical" of a post-season as Manning had been having, there was no way to recover from the kidney punch that was that touchdown drive by the Patriots.
Unless, of course, you pull off one of the most incredible plays in Super Bowl, if not (especially given the context) NFL history:
(On a side note, let's not forget that Asante Samuel had a chance to wrap up the game on the previous play, when Eli and...yup...David Tyree...got their routes mixed up and a pass wound up right in Samuel's hands. Make that play, and it's 19-0, and we're here contemplating how Eli Manning could throw an INT with the game on the line.)
The hype leading up to the Super Bowl about Eli Manning always felt like a joke waiting for a punchline to me. Every time someone suggested that Eli Manning had "arrived" I was waiting for the rimshot.
"Eli Manning is aving one of the best playoffs of any quarterback in recent memory." BA-DUM! "The Giants have a chance to shock the Patriots if Eli continues to play like this." BA-DUM-BUMP!
It turns out the joke was on the Patriots. Eli Manning pulled off perhaps the most stunning touchdown drive in NFL history, and in the process slew Goliath, rescued America from a deep national depression, made sports safe for kids and the dads to enjoy without fearing that an ogre-like figure in a hoodie would ruin it for everyone, and someone saved the dogs from the Puppy Bowl from a house fire.
And for the Patriots? Finishing the season with one loss for them probably has to be a bit more bitter than the 1985 Bears. I thing I will say is that the criticism of Bill Belichick for walking off the field with one second left is pretty baseless. Remember that the clock originally had run out after the Patriots' fourth down conversion attempt failed, and that's when Belichick started walking across the field. Once he's three-quarters of the way over and has already shook hands with Tom Coughlin, what's he supposed to do, go back to his sideline and coach the last kneel-down?
Still, seeing The Hoodie and The Golden Boy have to eat this loss certainly didn't make me weep.
The bottom line is that it's a day later, I'm sober, and I still can't make any sense of what happened in the Super Bowl. Depending on the arc of the rest of Eli Manning's career, this is either going to be looked back on as a defining moment, or one of the flukiest, strangest moments in Super Bowl history.
