Feb. 7, 2000 - Can the XFL make it?
Needless to say, the jury came back with a verdict on this one pretty quickly. But you have to hand it to the XFL for pushing the NFL into the 21st century with camerawork, right? And I still like my O.J. Simpson idea eight years later, as well as the Royal Rumble idea, the championship belt and the "combined weight" introduction. That league could have worked. You can't tell me differently.
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CAN THE XFL MAKE IT?
Why a wacky football league just might work.
When WWF promoter Vince McMahon introduced plans for his new football league (the XFL) at a press conference last week, he told reporters, "The NFL has gotten too conservative, too corporate. This will be an old-fashioned, smash-mouth league but with our cutting-edge marketing and production abilities."
In other words, get ready for lots of personality development, in-your-face action, scantily-clad ladies on the sidelines, taunting, rough play, loud music, corny nicknames and gimmicks, annoying announcers, and everything else that makes the WWF so much damned fun (with the possible exception of Vince's evil daughter, Stephanie, and her enormous, bulbous, swaying breasts). McMahon has proven he can capture that coveted 18-to-35 male TV demographic with "sports entertainment." Why couldn't he do the same thing with real sports? I certainly wouldn't bet against him. Remember, I just found out that pro wrestling was fixed three weeks ago.
With lower salaries and inferior talent, the XFL can only distinguish itself from the NFL with rule changes and various wrinkles. If McMahon incorporates the most fan-friendly aspects of the WWF into his league, he might have another winner on his hands. Vince is right: the NFL has gotten pretty damned stiff over the years. Load a new football league with enough violence and sex to satiate even the most testosterone-loaded single male fan, and hey... it just might work.
So here are my suggestions: a dozen ways that Vince could steal from the WWF for his new football league:
1. Cool team names
There's no reason why some of the football teams can't be tied into the WWF. This doesn't mean the XFL should go overboard with names like the Houston Hos and the Pittsburgh Puppies, but they could definitely have a WWF flavor: we could have the Boston Brood, Dallas Degeneration X, Pittsburgh Posse, even the Minnesota Mean Street Posse.
(Note: At the very least, the merchandising dollars would skyrocket, especially in cities with high gang populations. As for me, I would definitely buy a Boston Brood hat, especially if it had blood dripping from the "B.")
2. Make your cheerleaders as slutty as possible.
Take a cue here from WWF wrestler The Godfather; here's a guy who wrestled under about 15 different gimmicks in the '90s and never caught on with fans until he pretended he was a pimp and flanked himself with scantily-clad "hos." Now? The fans love him and shout out his catchphrases for him ("PIMPIN' AIN'T EASY!"). And it's all because of the hos.
(If you didn't follow that last paragraph, lemme rephrase it for you: Fans love hos!)
The solution: McMahon needs to pull a Howard Stern and find as many top-notch porn stars and strippers as he can, load them on the sidelines and turn them into a 21st century version of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders. The raunchier the better. Most guys will watch anything if there's enough T & A sprinkled in. Hell, why do you think "Baywatch" is still on after all these years?
3. Steroid use = legal and encouraged
It works in wrestling... why can't it work in the XFL? Besides, since the XFL will be using inferior players, they'll need all the help they can get. What's wrong with offensive linemen benching 700 pounds or wide receivers running 3.8's in the 40-yard dash? Come on, didn't you see "The Program"? That stuff can happen with the right team doctor!
They could even drug-test players before every game and then show their results during the games, along with their stats. For instance, after Joe Schmoe makes a tackle, the announcers could say, "There's Joe Schmoe... he's a '95 graduate of Kansas State ... 6-foot-3, 260 pounds ... he's gained 40 pounds over the past 3 weeks ... looks like he's playing this week under the influence of HGH, anabolic steroids, a few greenies, three jack-and-cokes and a fish paralyzer."
4. Give certain star players their own managers
Most athletes have terrible microphone skills as it is; why not hire 8-10 managers (ala Captain Lou Albano and Fredie Blassie in the mid-70's) to work with different star players to try to "get them over" (to use a wrestling term)? You could even give players built-in entourages/posses on the sidelines and encourage some roller derby-style mayhem every time an opponent goes out of bounds and gets tangled up with somebody's posse member.
I always thought this would work best in the NBA. For instance, after Ron Mercer complained about his contract offer and pushed for that trade to Denver, he ended up returning to Boston with the Nuggets last December. Wouldn't it have been entertaining if they interviewed Mercer and his agent (Tevester Scott) before the game and Mercer had three posse members rubbing his shoulders down while Scott screamed for revenge and insulted the Boston fans and players... then at the end of the interview, Mercer went nuts and ripped up his old Celtics #5 uniform into smithereens and threatened to kick Paul Pierce's "scrawny ass?" The crowd would have been riled up into a frenzy. Admit it.
Hey, if Vince can somehow tap into this emotion, more power to him. I think it could work. And no, I'm not kidding. You could even have one super-manager with guys on different teams... and the camera could show him on the sidelines running around trying to kiss everyone's rear end, ala NBA uber-agent David Falk.
(See where I'm going with this? There's no reason why the XFL couldn't satirize/parody modern sports, even as it's trying to establish itself as a professional league. And Vince LOVES to parody things.)
5. Acknowledge and embrace the gambling world
You have to do it. The best thing about Vince McMahon is that he doesn't give a crap -- he gives the fans what they want and he doesn't care about "role models" or "protecting America's youth." Vince believes that parents should be setting an example for their children, not Vince McMahon. If you think about it, it almost makes sense.
Anyway, the NFL -- in all its infuriating hypocrisy -- refuses to acknowledge gambling lines on its games, on the record, anyway. Off the record, it allows newspapers to publish point spreads and forces each team to release detailed injury reports, ostensibly so gamblers will have all the information they need about each team. Even the network announcers avoid the subject, with the exception of ABC's Al Michaels, who almost certainly has an enormous gambling problem and can't help himself.
Where does the ZFL fit in? I think they should refer to the gambling lines before, during and after games. Then you could have exchanges like this:
--Jim: And our final score, Dallas 30, Denver 24.
--Jerry: The Dropkicks may have lost the game, but they covered the spread AND the over/under with that last-second touchdown! UNBELIEVABLE!
Speaking of announcers...
6. Use WWF announcers Jim Ross and Jerry "the King" Lawler as the "Madden and Summerall" for the XFL "Game of the Week"
If the XFL used Lawler and Ross, not only would they be more light-hearted and irreverant than your average football guys, but you might even hear exchanges like this:
--Jim: Now it's 3rd and 12 for the Brood .. the Mean Street Posse has been wreaking havoc defensively on Boston quarterback Craig Whelihan.
(Suddenly we hear a loud fireworks blast and the beginning of a rap song for a Cambridge clothing store company.)
--Jerry: Wait a second, what's that?
--Jim: Good God! That-that's Michael Bishop's music! Michael Bishop is at the Fleet Center! And he's coming in for this huge 3rd down play!
--Jerry: Look at the Mean Street Posse cheerleaders... they can't believe it! Hey, I think I just saw a nipple JR!
--Jim: Here's Bishop rolling out to his right... he's taking off down the sidelines! Oh my God! He could go! MICHAEL BISHOP! MICHAEL BISHOP! MICHAEL BISHOP! Touchdown, Brood!
--Jerry: Not only are they winning the game, they're covering again!
--Jim: And now he's celebrating in the end zone and doing his "Beat the Bishop" dance!
--Jerry: That dance scares me, JR. He looks like a cross between Pee Wee Herman and George Michael!
--Jim: But the cheerleaders love it! They're all naked again! GOOD GOD!
Admit it... you'd be watching.
7. Four words you never thought you'd hear again: "Pete Carroll, head coach."
The XFL wouldn't be as much fun without our beloved Coach Fredo, the perfect candidate to coach an expansion franchise. I'll let reader Michael Sebastino take it from here:
"After Fredo's announced as head coach, he comes storming out with his newly-shaved head, goatee, sunglasses, and he's wearing a muscle shirt and yelling that he's 'pumped,' 'jacked' and feeling 'dangerous!' Of course, he's talking extremely loud and fast, like all pro wrestlers do, and spit is flying from his mouth. During the Q&A session that follows, he bodyslams Ron Borges after Borges mentions how he ruined a 'Super Bowl caliber team' in just three short years. Now THAT would be high comedy!"
8. Every team gets a gimmick
Much like wrestling, it makes no sense for teams to be randomly put together, at least in the first season. So why not try to "mold" the teams so you could have "good guy" teams and "bad guy" teams? All the players with criminal records and drug convictions could play for the Dallas Degeneration X squad ("Good God! That-that's Lawrence Phillips' music!"). All the born-agains could play on the same team (the California Christians?) and babble on about Jesus more than Kurt Warner and Isaac Bruce combined. You could even have a team called the "Rejects" made up of all the guys who failed in the NFL. Then see who the fans support and market them appropriately.
9. Make pre-game introductions seem like wrestling introductions
Imagine XFL "ring" announcer Howard Finkel coming out to midfield before the first title game and saying, "The following contest has been scheduled for 60 minutes, winner take all, for THE XFL WORLD TITLE!... on the sideline to my left, coming in at a combined weight of 10,839 pounds, the Pittsburgh Posse!"
(Note: I've always been a big fan of the "combined weight" stat. It's never used enough in sports, in my opinion.)
Speaking of belts, you could have the championship team's coach wearing a title belt during all regular season games. Once his team gets beaten, the vanquishing team gets the belt for the following week and it goes on and on throughout the playoffs. Whomever has the belt at the end of the regular season gets the first seed in the playoffs and homefield advantage, with the rest of the seeds go by regular season record.
(And if that's not enough of an argument for you, consider this one: Pete Carroll happily running off the field holding a championship belt in the air! Could you put a pricetag on a moment like that? I didn't think so.)
10. Fixed endings
McMahon would never do this. No way he cuts in on Al Davis's turf.
11. No set schedule
The WWF makes up its cards on the spot, so why couldn't the XFL do the same thing? For instance, let's say that the Pittsburgh Posse and the Minnesota Mean Street Posse play a particularly rough game in Week Seven with lots of bad blood spilling out after the game. Then the XFL could schedule a "return game" for the following week with no penalties!
Our buddy Birdman thinks they could incorporate some wrestling staples into the actual game rules during exhibition season, just to whet everyone's appetite for the regular season. For example...
* Instead of fixed endings, maybe games that don't have endings! How about a football game that ends in a bench-clearing brawl and then just fades to black, the way "Monday Night Raw" ends every week?
* Lumberjack football: If someone goes out of bounds, the guys on the sidelines can throw them back in.
* A steel cage game: First team to score AND have the ballcarrier climb out of the cage wins the game.
* A "hardcore" game: Players get to bring tables, metal chairs, garbage can lids and barbed wore onto the field.
* A Royal Rumble game: each team starts out with four players, then every minute, a new player runs until the end of the quarter. When the new quarter starts, it's back to four players per side again.
Hey, at least you'd be watching in the exhibition season.
Even if the XFL doesn't incorporate wrestling gimmicks, at least they should relax some of its rules during play. Taunting should be allowed. So should tripping, clotheslining and bodyslamming. Roughing the kicker would be legal and encouraged. No fair catches. Lots of late hits. No running out of bounds (ala the Arena Football League).
12. Bring back the Juice!
You want publicity? You want to make an immediate impact in the sports world? Then Vince should hire OJ Simpson as his "third man in the announcing booth" with Lawler and Ross. Imagine the headlines! Imagine the awkwardness and the comedy! How can Vince McMahon NOT see all the benefits here? In fact, I'm not predicting this happens, I'm guaranteeing it.
Etch it in stone. OJ will be involved in the XFL.
And if you don't think Vince McMahon would ever hire OJ... well, you're sadly mistaken. This is a man who once transformed Sergeant Slaughter into an Iraqi sympathizer during the height of the Cold War. This is a man who "married" off his daughter Stephanie to the villainous Triple H and made her stop wearing a bra. This is a man who kept a pay-per-view going for two more hours after one of his wrestlers fell 90 feet to his death during a botched stunt. You think Vince cares about offending the American public? Puh-leeeze.
He's all about ratings and dollar signs, which is the best AND the worst thing about him. He gives the people what they want. Period. And if you watch the wildly-popular WWF these days, you're never sure if it's a sadder statement about Vince or the general public.
One thing is for sure: I wouldn't bet against him.
**END**
Copyright by Bill Simmons, 2000
July 10, 2000 - The Power of E-Bay
This column is so dated and bizarre that I had to post it. For one thing, I refer to eBay as "E-Bay" throughout even though it's a column about eBay. I called Dave Matthews - a band that I now can't stand, and actually, can't ever remember liking - "great," which makes me think that I was smoking way too much pot in 2000. I made jokes about Harry Shearer's career earnings when he was getting rich from "The Simpsons." And just the context of the column makes it seem like it was written 35 years ago. By the way, I got revenge on "The Sopranos" ripoff seller by signing him up to something like thirty different magazines with those "Bill My Later" subscription cards. So that was fun. Also, the White Shadow game is in my attic buried under 10 pounds of stuff. EBay is great until you have a family and too much stuff. Then it's not so great.
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THE POWER OF E-BAY
Everything you ever wanted to know (but we're afraid to ask)
In the latest chapter of my new running book, "How E-Bay Turned My Life Around," I cruised down to Foxboro last night with some friends to catch the Dave Matthews concert, a superb show from a great band, even if I did feel like a child molester sitting in the stands with 50,000 scantily-clad girls between the ages of 16-19. But that's not the point. We finagled field tickets for the show on E-Bay and actually scored seats about 35 rows from the stage for a reasonable price, proving once again why E-Bay is the greatest modern invention since the sports bra.
I love E-Bay. I turn into a born-again Christian whenever somebody asks me about it; invariably, I attempt to convert them the same way my Uncle Chuck tries to convert everyone in the Simmons family around the holidays. Recently I swayed one of my buddies, who quickly transformed from an E-Bay novice into one of the losing bidders on a $245 game-worn Chris Washburn Warriors jersey within six hours. Now he scours E-Bay every week searching for a game-worn Lloyd Daniels jersey. And he'll probably find it, too.
That's the power of E-Bay: everything you ever wanted in life is probably for sale at the giant online candy store of life. Once you get sucked in, it's all over. The only thing missing from E-Bay is some sort of cultish Jim Jones/L. Ron Hubbard figure (Edward Bay?) who could preside over everything, belt out random proverbs, write self-help books and eventually make bad science fiction movies with John Travolta.
The best thing about E-Bay? It's easy to use. My Mom hits E-Bay twice a week searching for a wine press and she's the online Forrest Gump. It took her three weeks to figure out how to read e-mails, for God's sake. Now you're saying to yourself, "A wine press? What the hell is that?" According to Mom, these are antique machines that they used in the late-1800's and early-1900's to press grapes; she wants to stick one in her recently-refurbished wine tasting room in the basement (they cost between $100 and $500, depending on age and condition). I just enjoy the fact that she has a recently-refurbished wine tasting room; just what my mother needs, another reason to drink wine.
Then again, I shouldn't make fun of her because I'm ten times worse on E-Bay. Most of the fun for me comes in searching for things; in case you never really explored E-Bay, you can basically type in any name or term -- eg: ANTOINE WALKER -- and the search will turn up every E-Bay item related to Antoine Walker (cards, jerseys, autographs, magazines, etc.). Pretty neat, especially if you're an Antoine junkie or if you're Michael Holley.
(Confession time: I type in the name "Fred Lynn" at least twice a week hoping to find a game-worn Sox uniform from the mid-70's. No luck so far. Last week somebody listed a bid for a game-used Lynn bat that I was eyeing like Roger Clemens ogling a plate of Hamburger Helper. Still, it's not like you can wear a Fred Lynn bat and you probably couldn't carry it around in public unless you're walking around in Revere. But a Lynn jersey... a Freddie Lynn #19 Sox jersey? Now THAT would be cool. If I ever found one, I'd go into the Store 24 in Charlestown and wait for somebody to knock a soda over so I could come running in and make a diving catch. And yet I digress.)
Game-used jerseys are my favorite things to search for on E-Bay because they're unique, one-of-a-kind items. You can buy baseball cards anywhere at any time, but when will you ever stumble across a game-worn Washburn Warriors jersey again? Can you even place a comedy value on something like that? I sure can't. Or what if Bernard King decided to sell his Cadwallader State jersey from "Fast Break"? Or if Burt Reynolds needed help paying his mortgage and decided to hawk his #22 Mean Machine jersey from the "Longest Yard"?
That's the power of E-Bay... you never know when something like that might turn up. Just this week, Harry Shearer decided to sell the bass guitar he played as Derek Smalls in "This is Spinal Tap" (one of the all-time classics) and the bidding skyrocketed to $38,000, probably more than Harry made over the past ten years combined.
(Derek Smalls' guitar is only the tip of the iceberg. If you searched around Ebay right now, you'd find such wildly eclectic things as a $600,000 Honus Wagner card; Kareem's game-used jersey and shorts, a game-worn Earl Campbell jersey; the domain name www.redsoxfanclub.com; a poster from The Godfather signed by everyone in the cast; the final :90210" script autographed by the whole cast; a game-worn 1956 Red Sox jersey; Jamie Foxx's game-used jersey from "Any Given Sunday"; and even Blue Edwards' game-worn warmup jacket for the '96 Celts season. I'm telling you, it's ALL out there.)
The other key E-Bay items, at least for me, are tickets. Not only did I purchase DMB tickets through EBay, but I found Pearl Jam tix, Red Hot Chili Peppers tix, Red Sox tix and even Natalie Merchant tix (for the Sports Gal) through E-Bay. Red Sox tickets are especially interesting because E-Bay prevents sellers from getting more than $2 plus the face value of tickets, and since the bidding usually spirals out of control for good seats, EBay usually ends up pulling the auction. Still, there are those rare occassions when somebody just wants to dump their tickets for face value as quickly as possible, so they'll put a "First bid wins" restriction on the item (a fantastic stroke of luck for the buyer if you see the item first).
One key thing with tickets: Always check to make sure where the tickets are EXACTLY through the Foxboro seating chart, the Fenway seating chart, etc. Some of these scumbags on EBay will try to "spruce up" their tickets with phrases that aren't exactly true. Two of my Boston-related favorite scams:
1. Anyone who sells end zone seats for Pats games and claims "Great seats - 5 rows from the field!" Sometimes they might be five rows from the field, but usually they're in the freaking end zone. Section 22-25 = end zone in Foxboro, and the second section of the end zone at that. Beware.
2. Anyone who sells upper box seats in Row AA for Red Sox games and claims, "Box seats, first row!" Sorry, if you're sitting in Row AA, you're really sitting in the second section at Fenway. The lower box seats are closest to the field... then there's a walkway where everyone walks around carrying food and/or looking for their seat; behind the walkway, THAT'S the Upper Boxes. So if you're in Row AA, you have an up-close look at hundred of spectators per inning walking right in front of you. That's a good time, huh?
The lesson: If you come to play on E-Bay, come prepared. Don't pull a Jimy Williams and start playing hunches and throwing caution to the wind.
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Of course, there's a cloud of doubt hanging over every word in this column from the non-believers, so let's get it out in the open right now: Accountability.
How do you know you won't get ripped off? How do you know you're getting what you paid for? And how does the system police itself?
All E-Bay purchases are fully insured by Lloyd's Of London, with a catch: you need to save your proof of purchase. I like sending money orders because you can write the seller's name on the order and keep the receipt -- as well as the link to the bid you "won" on EBay -- and nobody would be able to deny that you 1) won the bid, 2) mailed out a money order for the amount of the bid, and 3) mailed that money order to the seller who posted the bid. Even if the seller ends up screwing you, E-Bay will eventually refund your money as long as you have the proof of purchase.
How do I know this? Well, I got screwed this spring by someone who claimed to have collector's edition tapes of the first two seasons of the Sopranos (I bid on them as a Father's Day present for my stepdad, a big Sopranos fan). The "collector's tapes" turned out to be three homemade tapes that were actually tapes of a tape; you could tell because the sound and tracking were all screwed up. I went through the E-Bay channels and they tried to force him to give me a refund, but he wouldn't respond to their e-mails. I unfortunately hadn't saved my money order receipt, so I wasn't eligible for insurance. Basically, I got screwed. And I will have my vengeance... whether in this life or the next, I will have my vengeance. But that's another story for another time.
Just keep in mind these rules:
A. Always save your proof of purchases.
Remember my experience with the Sopranos fraud.
B. Never deal with anyone with a bad feedback rating
E-Bay allows you to post "Feedback" on your transactions and give somebody either a positive, negative or neutral grade, along with a one-line comment. Remember that Sopranos guy? I gave him a negative grade AND a scathing comment... now he's stuck with it for life, like online VD (along with the two other negatives he received over the past few months).
Each Feedback grade counts as a point; in my case, I have made eight transactions and received eight positive grades, which means I'm 8-for-8. In other words, I'm reliable.
As for the unreliables... if you consider purchasing something from someone with a few negatives on their resume, you should have your head examined. Obviously they're incompetent and represent everything evil about E-Bay.
(Heathens! Heathens!)
C. Beware of someone who hasn't had an E-Bay transaction before
You just never know; it's like playing Russian Roulette with Chris Walken. Odds are that the seller is simply making their first transaction on EBay, but there's always a chance that he/she could be someone who messed up on EBay in the past (like my Sopranos guy) and re-entered the E-Bay world under a new identity, almost like a Mafia member in the witness protection program. So you never know. One more reason you should always save your links and your proof of purchase.
D. Beware of autographed stuff
Especially if it doesn't have a COA (certificate of authenticity). I would never buy something autographed from someone who says, "I got these autographs over the last few years at various shows and ballgames!"
E. If you have a good E-Bay experience, always give that person good feedback
The system polices itself this way. For instance, my feedback section has eight positives and a variety of comments like "He's an asset to E-Bay! Two thumbs up!" and "Smooth transaction, honest customer!" and even "Hung like a bear, can go all night!" I'm actually quite proud of them; recently I showed my girlfriend all my feedback comments and read them like movie reviews in a movie ad:
"He's an asset to E-Bay! Two thumbs up!"
-- Roger Ebert, Ebert and the Movies
"Smooth transaction, honest customer!"
-- Leonard Maltin, Entertainment Tonight
"Hung like a bear, can go all night!"
-- Al Goldstein, Screw Magazine.
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Wrapping things up, here are my five favorite things about E-Bay:
--1. If you love procrastinating, EBay fills the bill. Whenever I have 20 minutes to kill online -- if I'm waiting for an important e-mail, or for the DC Boston publishing tool to get fixed after it crashes for the 97th time -- I inevitably journey over to E-Bay and kill some time. And there's always SOMETHING interesting happening on E-Bay. When I saw the Derek Smalls guitar last week, my eyes literally popped out of my head. You couldn't even make something like that up.
--2. Bidding is just plain fun. Being a competitive only child, I take the bidding quite seriously and I hate losing, especially to some other schmoe online. One bidding trick: if you REALLY want something, you should mark down when the auction ends and swoop in during the final minute to top everyone else's bid. This way you aren't driving up the price on yourself all week (I'm convinced that most E-Bay sellers get their friends to bid on items to help drive the prices up, the heathens).
--3. It's nice to know that you could sell your junk if you ever wanted to sell it. When the time comes and I decide to dump my baseball card collection or my complete collection of "White Shadow" episodes, I know I'll have an outlet... just like Harry Shearer had an outlet when he realized he needed to pay his mortgage this month.
--4. There's something inherently American about E-Bay. In the old days, if you had four Sox tickets and two of your friends decided to cancel, you were stuck selling them for half-price to scalpers before the game. Now you can actually get your money back with a little luck. Same thing if you want to hawk your baseball cards. Or your computer. Or your diamond ring. Or your stereo. Or even your old porn videos (seems kinda gross, but even used porn videos show up on E-Bay... yuk). Whatever you're selling, at least you're not at the whim of some pawn shop clerk or baseball card dealer.
--5. Hope always spring eternal on E-Bay. I hope I find a Freddie Lynn jersey. I hope I find Coolidge's game-worn Carver High jersey. I hope my Mom finds a good wine press. I hope this will be the day I stumble across someone selling his Red Sox season tickets for $200 bucks. I hope the Pacific will be as blue as it is in my dreams. I hope.
One final E-Bay story: I visited the Basketball Hall of Fame two months ago with my buddy Stoner and we spent at least 20 minutes perusing those basketball board games on Level One. Everyone over the age of 25 remembers those games; back in the pre-video/pre-computer era, we played electric football and "pop-shot" basketball because we just didn't know any better. The hoop games all had the same features -- a cardboard arena, a ping pong ball, two baskets with scoreboards on top of them, holes on 12 different areas of the court and little metal things on the sides to "shoot" the ball once it fell into a hole. Back in the 70's, it passed for a good time.
Anyway, the Hall of Fame had a variety of different board games from over the years, including a "White Shadow" basketball game. The White Shadow! My favorite show! So I spent at least ten minutes staring through the glass case at Ken Reeves' face and wondering how I could break into the case and carry the game out in my pants before Stoner finally dragged me away.
Two months later, the same board game turned up on E-Bay... and now it's sitting in my living room. Best $21 dollars I ever spent.
E-Bay. Feel the power.
**END**
Copyright by Bill Simmons, 2000
This column is so dated and bizarre that I had to post it. For one thing, I refer to eBay as "E-Bay" throughout even though it's a column about eBay. I called Dave Matthews - a band that I now can't stand, and actually, can't ever remember liking - "great," which makes me think that I was smoking way too much pot in 2000. I made jokes about Harry Shearer's career earnings when he was getting rich from "The Simpsons." And just the context of the column makes it seem like it was written 35 years ago. By the way, I got revenge on "The Sopranos" ripoff seller by signing him up to something like thirty different magazines with those "Bill My Later" subscription cards. So that was fun. Also, the White Shadow game is in my attic buried under 10 pounds of stuff. EBay is great until you have a family and too much stuff. Then it's not so great.
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THE POWER OF E-BAY
Everything you ever wanted to know (but we're afraid to ask)
In the latest chapter of my new running book, "How E-Bay Turned My Life Around," I cruised down to Foxboro last night with some friends to catch the Dave Matthews concert, a superb show from a great band, even if I did feel like a child molester sitting in the stands with 50,000 scantily-clad girls between the ages of 16-19. But that's not the point. We finagled field tickets for the show on E-Bay and actually scored seats about 35 rows from the stage for a reasonable price, proving once again why E-Bay is the greatest modern invention since the sports bra.
I love E-Bay. I turn into a born-again Christian whenever somebody asks me about it; invariably, I attempt to convert them the same way my Uncle Chuck tries to convert everyone in the Simmons family around the holidays. Recently I swayed one of my buddies, who quickly transformed from an E-Bay novice into one of the losing bidders on a $245 game-worn Chris Washburn Warriors jersey within six hours. Now he scours E-Bay every week searching for a game-worn Lloyd Daniels jersey. And he'll probably find it, too.
That's the power of E-Bay: everything you ever wanted in life is probably for sale at the giant online candy store of life. Once you get sucked in, it's all over. The only thing missing from E-Bay is some sort of cultish Jim Jones/L. Ron Hubbard figure (Edward Bay?) who could preside over everything, belt out random proverbs, write self-help books and eventually make bad science fiction movies with John Travolta.
The best thing about E-Bay? It's easy to use. My Mom hits E-Bay twice a week searching for a wine press and she's the online Forrest Gump. It took her three weeks to figure out how to read e-mails, for God's sake. Now you're saying to yourself, "A wine press? What the hell is that?" According to Mom, these are antique machines that they used in the late-1800's and early-1900's to press grapes; she wants to stick one in her recently-refurbished wine tasting room in the basement (they cost between $100 and $500, depending on age and condition). I just enjoy the fact that she has a recently-refurbished wine tasting room; just what my mother needs, another reason to drink wine.
Then again, I shouldn't make fun of her because I'm ten times worse on E-Bay. Most of the fun for me comes in searching for things; in case you never really explored E-Bay, you can basically type in any name or term -- eg: ANTOINE WALKER -- and the search will turn up every E-Bay item related to Antoine Walker (cards, jerseys, autographs, magazines, etc.). Pretty neat, especially if you're an Antoine junkie or if you're Michael Holley.
(Confession time: I type in the name "Fred Lynn" at least twice a week hoping to find a game-worn Sox uniform from the mid-70's. No luck so far. Last week somebody listed a bid for a game-used Lynn bat that I was eyeing like Roger Clemens ogling a plate of Hamburger Helper. Still, it's not like you can wear a Fred Lynn bat and you probably couldn't carry it around in public unless you're walking around in Revere. But a Lynn jersey... a Freddie Lynn #19 Sox jersey? Now THAT would be cool. If I ever found one, I'd go into the Store 24 in Charlestown and wait for somebody to knock a soda over so I could come running in and make a diving catch. And yet I digress.)
Game-used jerseys are my favorite things to search for on E-Bay because they're unique, one-of-a-kind items. You can buy baseball cards anywhere at any time, but when will you ever stumble across a game-worn Washburn Warriors jersey again? Can you even place a comedy value on something like that? I sure can't. Or what if Bernard King decided to sell his Cadwallader State jersey from "Fast Break"? Or if Burt Reynolds needed help paying his mortgage and decided to hawk his #22 Mean Machine jersey from the "Longest Yard"?
That's the power of E-Bay... you never know when something like that might turn up. Just this week, Harry Shearer decided to sell the bass guitar he played as Derek Smalls in "This is Spinal Tap" (one of the all-time classics) and the bidding skyrocketed to $38,000, probably more than Harry made over the past ten years combined.
(Derek Smalls' guitar is only the tip of the iceberg. If you searched around Ebay right now, you'd find such wildly eclectic things as a $600,000 Honus Wagner card; Kareem's game-used jersey and shorts, a game-worn Earl Campbell jersey; the domain name www.redsoxfanclub.com; a poster from The Godfather signed by everyone in the cast; the final :90210" script autographed by the whole cast; a game-worn 1956 Red Sox jersey; Jamie Foxx's game-used jersey from "Any Given Sunday"; and even Blue Edwards' game-worn warmup jacket for the '96 Celts season. I'm telling you, it's ALL out there.)
The other key E-Bay items, at least for me, are tickets. Not only did I purchase DMB tickets through EBay, but I found Pearl Jam tix, Red Hot Chili Peppers tix, Red Sox tix and even Natalie Merchant tix (for the Sports Gal) through E-Bay. Red Sox tickets are especially interesting because E-Bay prevents sellers from getting more than $2 plus the face value of tickets, and since the bidding usually spirals out of control for good seats, EBay usually ends up pulling the auction. Still, there are those rare occassions when somebody just wants to dump their tickets for face value as quickly as possible, so they'll put a "First bid wins" restriction on the item (a fantastic stroke of luck for the buyer if you see the item first).
One key thing with tickets: Always check to make sure where the tickets are EXACTLY through the Foxboro seating chart, the Fenway seating chart, etc. Some of these scumbags on EBay will try to "spruce up" their tickets with phrases that aren't exactly true. Two of my Boston-related favorite scams:
1. Anyone who sells end zone seats for Pats games and claims "Great seats - 5 rows from the field!" Sometimes they might be five rows from the field, but usually they're in the freaking end zone. Section 22-25 = end zone in Foxboro, and the second section of the end zone at that. Beware.
2. Anyone who sells upper box seats in Row AA for Red Sox games and claims, "Box seats, first row!" Sorry, if you're sitting in Row AA, you're really sitting in the second section at Fenway. The lower box seats are closest to the field... then there's a walkway where everyone walks around carrying food and/or looking for their seat; behind the walkway, THAT'S the Upper Boxes. So if you're in Row AA, you have an up-close look at hundred of spectators per inning walking right in front of you. That's a good time, huh?
The lesson: If you come to play on E-Bay, come prepared. Don't pull a Jimy Williams and start playing hunches and throwing caution to the wind.
***** *****
Of course, there's a cloud of doubt hanging over every word in this column from the non-believers, so let's get it out in the open right now: Accountability.
How do you know you won't get ripped off? How do you know you're getting what you paid for? And how does the system police itself?
All E-Bay purchases are fully insured by Lloyd's Of London, with a catch: you need to save your proof of purchase. I like sending money orders because you can write the seller's name on the order and keep the receipt -- as well as the link to the bid you "won" on EBay -- and nobody would be able to deny that you 1) won the bid, 2) mailed out a money order for the amount of the bid, and 3) mailed that money order to the seller who posted the bid. Even if the seller ends up screwing you, E-Bay will eventually refund your money as long as you have the proof of purchase.
How do I know this? Well, I got screwed this spring by someone who claimed to have collector's edition tapes of the first two seasons of the Sopranos (I bid on them as a Father's Day present for my stepdad, a big Sopranos fan). The "collector's tapes" turned out to be three homemade tapes that were actually tapes of a tape; you could tell because the sound and tracking were all screwed up. I went through the E-Bay channels and they tried to force him to give me a refund, but he wouldn't respond to their e-mails. I unfortunately hadn't saved my money order receipt, so I wasn't eligible for insurance. Basically, I got screwed. And I will have my vengeance... whether in this life or the next, I will have my vengeance. But that's another story for another time.
Just keep in mind these rules:
A. Always save your proof of purchases.
Remember my experience with the Sopranos fraud.
B. Never deal with anyone with a bad feedback rating
E-Bay allows you to post "Feedback" on your transactions and give somebody either a positive, negative or neutral grade, along with a one-line comment. Remember that Sopranos guy? I gave him a negative grade AND a scathing comment... now he's stuck with it for life, like online VD (along with the two other negatives he received over the past few months).
Each Feedback grade counts as a point; in my case, I have made eight transactions and received eight positive grades, which means I'm 8-for-8. In other words, I'm reliable.
As for the unreliables... if you consider purchasing something from someone with a few negatives on their resume, you should have your head examined. Obviously they're incompetent and represent everything evil about E-Bay.
(Heathens! Heathens!)
C. Beware of someone who hasn't had an E-Bay transaction before
You just never know; it's like playing Russian Roulette with Chris Walken. Odds are that the seller is simply making their first transaction on EBay, but there's always a chance that he/she could be someone who messed up on EBay in the past (like my Sopranos guy) and re-entered the E-Bay world under a new identity, almost like a Mafia member in the witness protection program. So you never know. One more reason you should always save your links and your proof of purchase.
D. Beware of autographed stuff
Especially if it doesn't have a COA (certificate of authenticity). I would never buy something autographed from someone who says, "I got these autographs over the last few years at various shows and ballgames!"
E. If you have a good E-Bay experience, always give that person good feedback
The system polices itself this way. For instance, my feedback section has eight positives and a variety of comments like "He's an asset to E-Bay! Two thumbs up!" and "Smooth transaction, honest customer!" and even "Hung like a bear, can go all night!" I'm actually quite proud of them; recently I showed my girlfriend all my feedback comments and read them like movie reviews in a movie ad:
"He's an asset to E-Bay! Two thumbs up!"
-- Roger Ebert, Ebert and the Movies
"Smooth transaction, honest customer!"
-- Leonard Maltin, Entertainment Tonight
"Hung like a bear, can go all night!"
-- Al Goldstein, Screw Magazine.
***** *****
Wrapping things up, here are my five favorite things about E-Bay:
--1. If you love procrastinating, EBay fills the bill. Whenever I have 20 minutes to kill online -- if I'm waiting for an important e-mail, or for the DC Boston publishing tool to get fixed after it crashes for the 97th time -- I inevitably journey over to E-Bay and kill some time. And there's always SOMETHING interesting happening on E-Bay. When I saw the Derek Smalls guitar last week, my eyes literally popped out of my head. You couldn't even make something like that up.
--2. Bidding is just plain fun. Being a competitive only child, I take the bidding quite seriously and I hate losing, especially to some other schmoe online. One bidding trick: if you REALLY want something, you should mark down when the auction ends and swoop in during the final minute to top everyone else's bid. This way you aren't driving up the price on yourself all week (I'm convinced that most E-Bay sellers get their friends to bid on items to help drive the prices up, the heathens).
--3. It's nice to know that you could sell your junk if you ever wanted to sell it. When the time comes and I decide to dump my baseball card collection or my complete collection of "White Shadow" episodes, I know I'll have an outlet... just like Harry Shearer had an outlet when he realized he needed to pay his mortgage this month.
--4. There's something inherently American about E-Bay. In the old days, if you had four Sox tickets and two of your friends decided to cancel, you were stuck selling them for half-price to scalpers before the game. Now you can actually get your money back with a little luck. Same thing if you want to hawk your baseball cards. Or your computer. Or your diamond ring. Or your stereo. Or even your old porn videos (seems kinda gross, but even used porn videos show up on E-Bay... yuk). Whatever you're selling, at least you're not at the whim of some pawn shop clerk or baseball card dealer.
--5. Hope always spring eternal on E-Bay. I hope I find a Freddie Lynn jersey. I hope I find Coolidge's game-worn Carver High jersey. I hope my Mom finds a good wine press. I hope this will be the day I stumble across someone selling his Red Sox season tickets for $200 bucks. I hope the Pacific will be as blue as it is in my dreams. I hope.
One final E-Bay story: I visited the Basketball Hall of Fame two months ago with my buddy Stoner and we spent at least 20 minutes perusing those basketball board games on Level One. Everyone over the age of 25 remembers those games; back in the pre-video/pre-computer era, we played electric football and "pop-shot" basketball because we just didn't know any better. The hoop games all had the same features -- a cardboard arena, a ping pong ball, two baskets with scoreboards on top of them, holes on 12 different areas of the court and little metal things on the sides to "shoot" the ball once it fell into a hole. Back in the 70's, it passed for a good time.
Anyway, the Hall of Fame had a variety of different board games from over the years, including a "White Shadow" basketball game. The White Shadow! My favorite show! So I spent at least ten minutes staring through the glass case at Ken Reeves' face and wondering how I could break into the case and carry the game out in my pants before Stoner finally dragged me away.
Two months later, the same board game turned up on E-Bay... and now it's sitting in my living room. Best $21 dollars I ever spent.
E-Bay. Feel the power.
**END**
Copyright by Bill Simmons, 2000
August 30, 1999 - Roto Football Draft Diary
Here's one more old-school fantasy football column that's extremely dated but in a good way, as you'll see when you get to the Marshall Faulk/Trent Green and Vinny/Manning sections. Remember the days when you started everyone on your roster? Remember when we called it "Rotisserie" instead of "Fantasy?" I also found it funny that, in 1999, I felt obligated to explain the basic rules of fantasy football. That was only nine years ago. You'll also notice that I self-plagiarized a couple of the jokes in here in future columns on ESPN. And you'll notice that our revolutionary playoff system was already in place.
Important note: This column is wayyyyyyy too long. I hadn't gotten the hang of cutting down running diaries yet.
****
ROTO FOOTBALL DRAFT DIARY
A running account of being holed up in the war room on draft day
by Bill Simmons
My fantasy football draft took place yesterday in Hartford, Connecticut, the future home of the New England Patr- whoops! I mean, the future home of the WNBA franchise, the Hartford Hookers. Anyway, our league has ten franchises and we each pick a team of 14 NFL players (all of whom count in the weekly stats), including two QB's, 4 RB's, 4 WR's, two defenses, 1 TE and 1 kicker. There is no prize money... as far as YOU know...
(Hello IRS! Good to see you!)
If you know how these things work, feel free to skip this part and scroll down to the diary. If you're interested in the nuts-and-bolts of how a fantasy draft works, keep reading:
* Points are determined by each player's statistics for a given week through a convoluted stat system. You get points (and negative points) for yardage, TD's, length of TD's, shutouts, turnovers, arrests, domestic violence incidents, and so on.
* Each week you face off against another team: Whoever wins in the head-to-head matchup gets the "W" for that week, just like the NFL. The top four teams at the end of the season (17 weeks) make the playoffs ... at that point, each remaining team gets to keep its best six players for the real playoffs, then we have another draft to fill out everyone's roster (the top team gets the #1 pick, and you can take players off any of the non-playoff rosters).
* In the playoffs, the stats are cumulative: The team with the most points through the 4 playoff rounds wins the title. So somebody like Terrell Davis or Fred Taylor is especially important in our draft because you're not just getting him for the regular season, but all of his playoff games as well.
* You can make moves after every week (cut guys, pick up guys, place guys on injured reserve, etc) ... if two teams try to claim an undrafted player, the team with the lower record gets him.
Sound confusing? It's really not that hard. We draft in snake-fashion - first guy picks first, second guy picks second... onto the tenth guy, who picks last in the 1st round and first (11th overall) in the 2nd round. And so on. Our draft order was determined by picking cards before the draft. Here was the order (you don't know any of these people so it doesn't matter): 1) Camp; 2) Jim; 3) Stoner; 4) Wyman; 5) Steve; 6) Russ; 7) Wiker; 8) Joe; 9) Me; 10) Dish.
Last note: Everyone has a team nickname... my nickname has always been the "Banana Hammocks" since I used to wear Jockey underwear and our commissioner (Camp) never let me forget it. Wiker (a rookie franchise) wanted to be called the Cleveland Steamers until Camp decided he should be the "Uncle Booties," after a serial prison rapist named Uncle Booty who was featured in a Salon.com article about prison rape. That's the kind of league you're dealing with here.
Anyway, I kept a running diary of the ensuing draft... here's what happened:
1:00 -- We're coming to you live from Hartford, fresh off a golf outing/bachelor party that lasted until 4:00AM the previous night! Stamina is definitely a factor here: the bachelor of honor (Stoner) endured roughly a dozen lap dances at the aptly-named Gold Club on Saturday night and may have pulled a groin muscle. He looks especially worse for wear. Jim looks in the best shape of anyone since he blew off Saturday's festivities, raising the ire of pretty much everyone in the room. We also have one person calling in by phone -- Camp's brother, Joe -- because it's a long-standing rule that you can't have a roto draft unless at least one person fails to show up and calls in by phone, ruining the draft for the commissioner (who has to spend the whole time recapping every pick on the phone, while also writing down every pick).
1:05 -- Just drew the ninth pick in the draft. DAMMIT! I wanted to be in the Top Four because there are only four "gamebreakers" in the draft: 1) Terrell Davis; 2) Randy Moss; 3) Brett Favre; and 4) Fred Taylor, the four guys whom you KNOW will get you big points week after week. At #9, I'm looking at guys like Curtis Martin and Eddie George. I'm just not happy right now. I also smell like Mickey Rourke during the last hour of "Barfly" and I'm broke, but that's another story.
1:07 -- Jim wants to trade down; he's dangling the #2 pick. Hmmmm. I really want Fred Taylor. I mean, I REALLY want Fred Taylor. If I drew the #1 pick, I probably would have taken him over Davis, just because teams are going to stack the lines against Denver all year (Bubby Brister???). Taylor has young legs, he was incredibly consistent last year, he breaks off long TD runs, he catches passes out of the backfield, and he's on a Super Bowl contender. I haven't lusted for someone like this since Miss Arizona came out in the swimsuit contest during last week's "Miss Teen USA Pageant."
1:10 -- Jim wants a 1st-rounder and a 3rd-rounder for the #2 pick. That means I'd be giving up the #9 and the #29 pick overall for my man Freddie T ... plus, I'd be trading with the guy who blew off Stoner's bachelor party. Those are high stakes. On the other hand, if I stayed put at #9, I'd be spending the next four months watching Curtis Martin carry the ball 26 times for 82 yards every week.
1:11 -- Screw it. I'm making the deal. As the Patriots proved during the '98 Draft, you should always trade up for the "sure thing" guy, no "ifs" "ands" or "buts." The Pats should have packaged picks that year to get Taylor and they didn't do it. Jacksonville did. Now the '99 Jags are headed for the Super Bowl and the '99 Pats are headed to a fiery hell. There's a lesson there somewhere.
1:15 -- Commissioner Camp approves the deal, which sends everyone reeling. Stoner looks especially bummed out at #3; he's wearing an "I hope you're trading up to get Randy Moss and not Fred Taylor" look. On the other hand, that might be a "how many dances do I get for $30 bucks?" look. I'm not sure.
1:20 -- Camper takes Davis at #1... I immediately follow with Taylor at #2. Stoner screams out in dismay. He's stuck with Randy Moss at #3 and vows, "Screw it, I'm taking all criminals this year."
1:25 -- Jamal Anderson, Brett Favre, Randall Cunningham, Mark Brunell and Steve Young go in the #4 to #8 slots. Jim takes Martin with my #9 pick. I'm feeling relatively giddy. Now I'm hoping Antonio Freeman will be there with my #12 pick (the 2nd pick of the second round). Freeman was the top WR in the league for the past two years; now he has a sober Brett Favre throwing to him. He might catch 270 passes this year.
1:27 -- Holding my breath as the 10th team -- Dish, another rookie owner (team name: Petrie Dishes) -- decides what he's doing with his two picks (last pick in the 1st round, first pick of the 2nd round). If he takes Freeman, I'm going with Eddie George. Just to throw him off track, I ask the room, "Jake Plummer hasn't been taken yet, right?" Dish looks confused. That's veteran roto savvy right there on my part.
1:28 -- Dish takes Plummer and Marshall Faulk, who will be gang-tackled at least 300 times this year behind the line of scrimmage now that Trent Green is gone for the season. Woo-hoo! That was beautiful! I love new fish owners in roto drafts. They always come through
1:29 -- Antonio Freeman, welcome aboard to the Banana Hammocks Express! Mmmmm... Fred Taylor AND Antonio Freeman! I love my team! Time to start heckling the room and playing some mind games. Everyone will hate me by the fourth round.
1:35 -- Robert Smith, George, Eric Moulds and Jimmy Smith all just went... now Wyman takes Dorsey Levens, prompting me to say, "Hey, the first guy with a limp is gone!" Wyman looks bummed out, especially with Camp yelling, "Bring out the Gimp!"
1:36 -- Stoner takes Ricky Watters and says simply, "I hate my team." There's nothing worse than being resigned to the fact that you just took Ricky Watters. We've all been there. He's the only guy who can actually be a locker room cancer on a rotisserie team.
1:37 -- After Cris Carter, Keyshawn Johnson and Chris Chandler all go, the talent level drops off. Everyone in my Top 20 was taken in the first 21 picks, along with Levens, who will haunt Wyman all season in a "Kimberly from Melrose Place" kinda way.
1:39 -- Jim rolls the dice with Dan Marino at #22. I actually liked Marino this year -- he finally has a #1 WR with Tony Martin (as well as a great person to launder money with). But I can't let Jim know that. So I made a bunch of "Is this 1985 or 1999?"-type jokes.
Unfortunately, Stoner just took Drew Bledsoe with the next pick, meaning the run on QB's has begun ... and because of my Taylor trade, I have to wait eight more picks before I can grab somebody. Peyton Manning and Vinny Testaverde are the only two "high-rated" guys left on my list -- after that, you're rolling the dice with Steve McNair (good potential, but Tennessee doesn't throw the ball enough), Brad Johnson (only played one healthy season in the NFL) and Doug Flutie (supposedly being pushed by Rob Johnson in Buffalo). All three of those guys make me nervous.
1:41 -- Stoner just incorporated the running joke of the weekend into his last pick!
(Allow me to go off on a tangent here...)
Last week, Stoner bought the WWF music soundtrack and has been playing it nonstop in his car ever since. He tortured us all weekend by repeatedly playing the beginning of the Undertaker's entrance song and screaming "My God! That-that's the Undertaker's music!" (an impersonation of WWF announcer Jim Ross, who always seems amazed any time music comes out of nowhere and a wrestler suddenly emerges from backstage, as if he didn't know it was in the script). So all week long we were yelling that phrase. I'd come out of the bathroom and Stoner would scream, "My God! That-that's Bill Simmons' music!" Asia the Stripper would come out for her dance at the Gold Club in Hartford as Rage in the Machine played in the background and we'd scream out, "My God, that's Asia's music!" And so on. We beat that joke into the ground and THROUGH the ground.
Anyway, as we waited for Stoner to make his pick, he suddenly screamed out, "My God! That-that's Drew Bledsoe's music!" And we knew he was taking Bledsoe.
(That's the kind of stuff that happens when guys spend too much time together over the course of one weekend. And yet I digress...).
1:42 -- Starting to get bored... I've been heckling every pick. While Wyman was on the clock, I kept saying stuff like, "Wyman, Jerome Bettis is on the phone, he really wants to be on your team" and "Wyman, will you accept a collect call from Jerry Rice?" Wyman finally takes Terrell Owens. Dammit. I'm off my game.
1:43 -- The first "Whoa!!!!!!" pick of the day: Steve takes Edgerrin James with the 25th pick overall. I loved Edge and had him rated as my 8th RB overall, but #25 in the whole draft?
1:44 -- Just made a bunch of "Wow, I had to go to the second page of my running back list to cross James off"-type of jokes. That was fun.
1:50 -- Now I feel REALLY good about my Taylor trade. Using my 3rd round pick, Jim took Ricky Williams, who's battling ankle problems on a lousy team with a lousy QB. So if you're scoring at home, I ostensibly traded Martin and Williams for Taylor and a 14th round pick. I'd do that one every day of the week, and not just because it allowed me to sneak the word "ostensibly" into this column. You can't win without gamebreakers, especially gamebreakers that might be playing in the Super Bowl. Unfortunately, Bob Kraft doesn't know this.
(One more thing: At this point, I'm hoping Joey Galloway can fall to my spot in the 5th round because of his contract holdout. If I grab him that low and he comes back, it will make up for the 3rd-rounder I gave away. Cross your fingers.)
1:54 -- Dish takes two receivers (Harrison and McCaffrey) with his sandwich picks. That means I actually get the choice between Vinny and Manning! Hmmmm. Manning has better stats, but Vinny might make the Super Bowl. Plus, he has the best wideouts in the game and might get more long TD's than anyone other than Cunningham. On the flip side, he's Vinny Freaking Testaverde, one of the all-time "roll the dice" guys in the history of roto sports. In '96 and '98, he was an All-Pro; in '97, he was Alpo. Do I really want to tie my fortunes to Vincenzo?
1:55 -- Dammit. I hate this pick. Everyone's gonna laugh, just because that's the knee-jerk reaction whenever somebody says the words "Vinny Testaverde" at a roto draft. In fact, there are two things you can do at a roto football draft that will make everyone laugh: 1) Say the sentence "I'll take Vinny Testaverde," or 2) Fart.
(NOTE: If you ever say "I'll take Vinny Testaverde" while farting, you might cause full-scale pandemonium.)
1:56 -- The room's getting restless as I look up Vinny's stats: 3255 yards and 29 TDs in only 13 games last year. Plus, he's got Keyshawn, Chrebet, and the always underrated Dedric Ward going deep for him. Plus, he'll be in the playoffs, whereas Peyton Manning won't be in the playoffs.
1:57 -- Dammit.
1:58 -- I try to soften the fact that I'm taking Vinny by screaming out, "Good God! That-that's Vinny Testaverde's music!!!"
1:58 -- Waiting for laughter to subside.
1:59 -- Still waiting.
2:00 -- I wish I was dead.
2:05 -- Wiker's first three picks were: Brunell, George and Mathis and Brister. Not bad for a rookie. Unfortunately, he's shuffling though about eight magazines trying to come up with a fourth pick; you just get the sense something awful might happen here.
2:07 -- Woo-hoo! Wiker just took the heat off me by taking Bubby Brister with the 4th pick of the 4th round! Bubby Brister?!?!?! That almost caused a riot in the room. Wiker has that "Pete Carroll after the Tampa Bay game" look on his face right now. He's done for the draft. Nobody can recover from Bubby Brister in the 4th round. That's like having your team bus get into an accident.
(I keep waiting for Wiker to say, "We had a great week of practice... I'm just disappointed right now... we've got to go back to the tapes and see what went wrong with that last pick... we need to get back on track...")
2:12 -- Stoner and Jim just took Emmitt Smith and Jerry Rice back to back. Everyone's giggly and relieved. Those are the types of guys you just hope somebody else takes, just so you don't have to do it yourself. Nothing's scarier than old football players in a roto draft.
2:15 -- As we head into the fifth round, the run on defenses has begun! Jacksonville, Tampa and Minnesota are all gone. Stoner capped off his Tampa pick by disappearing for a second and re-emerging with his "Mike Alstott #40" jersey on while screaming "The Stoner takes the Mighty Bucs! Ahoy! Ahoy!" That was fun.
(Of course, it wasn't as much fun on Saturday night in Hartford while we were in a sports bar watching highlights from the Bucs-Pats game: "Here's Bledsoe getting sacked... here's Alstott scoring his 3rd TD to make it 28-7... here's a kickoff return TD... here's Pete Carroll looking for sharp objects on the sidelines" -- while Stoner screamed "Ahoy! Ahoy!" in the background and did little jigs.)
2:19: The wheels have come off for Wiker, who followed up Brister by taking Adrian Murrell in the fifth round. That prompted this exchange:
--BILL: Does Arizona even have a full offensive line this year? Is that guy who got his arm cut off coming back?
--RUSS: I think he's still their starting left tackle.
--CAMP: Hey, that other arm is still strong.
--BILL: Wiker, do you think Adrian Murrell will have a big year behind the first ever nine-armed offensive line?
--WIKER: Ummm... hey, are we gonna order pizza or anything, guys?
2:22 -- I have two of the next four picks; my little gamble paid off because Galloway is still available. This happens every year in roto drafts: someone drops three rounds lower than they should because of an injury or a contract holdout, but they always end up playing and playing well. Basically, if I take Galloway here and he comes back to the Seahawks (from his contract holdout), it would be like getting a 2nd round pick in the 5th.
Here's where some strategy comes in: Dish has the next two picks after me and he already has two receivers -- no way he'll take Galloway. So I'll take Gary Brown (the Giants RB whom I like) because I can get Galloway coming back.
2:25 -- Not only does Dish pass on Galloway, but he takes the Atlanta defense and Charlie Batch with his two picks. Good God, that-that's Charlie Batch's music!!! I love rookie roto owners.
2:26 -- I'm about to take Galloway, but not before asking the question, "Charlie Batch just got taken? Are we in the 13th round? Did I pass out or something?" Man, roto drafts are fun.
2:28 -- Now I can pretty much relax. The core of my team is set: Taylor, Freeman, Vinny, Brown and Galloway. I'm not taking a kicker until the last round (is there really a difference between Jason Elam and Al Del Greco?); I'm waiting until late to take my tight end (I love Pete Mitchell on the Giants); and I'm waiting until the mid-to-late rounds to get my defenses (I should be able to get two from Seattle, Miami and Oakland). That means I can take the best available guys for the next four rounds, while concentrating my energies on insulting everyone else.
2:29 -- It's amazing how exciting a roto draft can be when you're waiting to see if your master plan will actually unfold according to plan.
2:30 -- I really need a life.
2:33 -- Russ takes Lawrence Phillips, prompting a barrage of giggles. This draft could have lasted 30 rounds and I wouldn't have taken Lawrence Phillips. My buddy Bish lives in San Fran and tells me Charlie Garner will be the starting RB by Week One. Hopefully, nobody else knows that in this room.
2:38 -- Dammit! Jim takes Terry Glenn with the second-to-last pick in the 6th round. I was secretly hoping he'd be there for me in the 7th... with TG, at least you know you'll get seven or eight great games out of him before he goes on injured reserve with a pulled hamstring or ovarian cysts.
Now Jim's glancing at me to gage my reaction... I give him the old, "You'll get two weeks out of him before he gets hurt."
(I'm in All-Pro form right now.)
2:44 -- Apparently we bought Stoner one too many shots tonight... he just took Terry Allen in the 7th round. I'm starting to think I can get Tony Martin (ready for a monster season in Miami, and you heard it here first).
2:49 -- I'm up in the 7th. My choices are 1) Tony Martin; 2) Warrick Dunn; 3) Skip Hicks; 4) Brad Johnson; 5) The Completely-Insane Curtis Enis. I like Martin the most, but I can get him in the 8th round. And I can probably wait on Johnson. So I need a RB. Hmmmm. Dunn, Hicks or Enis?
2:50 -- Looking up their stats...
2:51 -- I had Dunn last season and he was the master of the "12 carries for 70 yards and no TD's" game. He drove me crazy. (Remember, Mike Alstott gets all the TD's for Tampa.) I like The Completely-Insane Curtis Enis' potential, but he's on a lousy team and, well, he's completely insane. I'm trying to avoid crazy guys this year. As for Hicks, he finished strong last year and he's playing for an underrated team (the Skins) that will score a ton of points this team. One drawback -- he might get edged out by Stephen Davis for the starting job. Hmmm...
2:51 -- Just took Hicks. That's the first pick I don't feel good about.
2:51 -- Steve says, "He might not even start for them, you know." Yeah. I know.
2:52 -- I'm on suicide watch right now. I should have taken Enis. So what if he's completely insane?
3:00 -- As insult to injury, Jim takes Enis seven picks later. I have a little Enis Envy right now. Time to start lashing out at people to make myself feel better.
3:03 -- Camp just took Michael Irvin and Morten Anderson with his sandwich picks... I followed that up with, "In other words, 'Pass.'" That felt good.
3:05 -- Stoner takes Ben Coates. No surprise there. Those two have gotten together more times over the years than Don Johnson and Melanie Griffith.
3:10 -- Wiker makes another rookie mistake, taking the ageless Leroy Hoard for the Uncle Booties. All of us smile knowingly. We've all had Leroy Hoard on our team at some point in our lives. He's like the high school slut who everyone on the football team has slept with... then a new transfer comes in senior year and meets her and starts dating her, and everyone else on the team gets a big kick out of it. We've ALL been with Leroy.
3:15 -- People are reaching like Freddie Krueger right now. I mean, Kevin Faulk and Fred Lane just got taken! On the bright side, I was able to end up with the Seattle defense AND Brad Johnson. The Seahawks are loaded with interception/sack guys, Galloway always scores for their special teams and they're playing a cream puff schedule this season. (Detroit, Chicago, Cincy, Pittsburgh, San Diego twice, Oakland twice, and KC twice.) And I love Johnson. When he's healthy, the guy produces -- people forget this because Randall Cunningham pushed him out in Minnesota. Plus, he's playing for a good offensive team with a lot of weapons. So I'm happy.
3:20 -- Kordell Stewart just got snapped up by Joe, prompting a barrage of unprintable jokes from the peanut gallery. Last year, Kordell went 3rd in the whole draft. This year, he went 93rd. Enough said.
3:23 -- Russ grabs Muhsin Muhammad, the second Muslim taken today. It's fun to take Muslims, isn't it? By the way, we have three pizzas arriving momentarily, which should wreak complete havoc on this draft. People are so hungry that we're all getting that glazed look like the guys from the rugby team in "Alive."
3:26 -- Stoner took Bam Morris, explaining simply, "He fits in with the rest of my team. Now Ricky Watters and Randy Moss have someone else to hang out with."
3:29 -- Good God! That-that's Pizza Hut's music!!!
3:31 -- The pressures of being Commish have apparently gotten to Camp, who just took Chris Warren with the last pick of the 10th round while inhaling a slice of peppeoni pizza. Somebody just asked Camp if he was using a "Roto Preview" magazine from 1992.
3:35 -- I need a good sleeper receiver for my #4 WR slot. The candidates?
1. Michael Westbrook -- Always tantalizing, always disappointing.
2. JJ Stokes -- Supposedly having a monster preseason, but he's still behind Rice and Owens.
3. Darnay Scott -- The #1 guy in Cincy with Carl Pickens apparently missing or dead.
4. Torry Holt -- Rams rookie who will definitely be their #1 wideout when Isaac Bruce gets hurt. Unfortunately, Trent Green just tore knee ligaments last night and Haywood Jablome has just been named the new starter.
5. David Boston -- Arizona rookie... might get buried behind Sanders and Moore.
6. Tony Simmons -- My illegitimate brother.
Hmmm... for some reason, I like Scott. Can't explain it.
3:40 -- Wiker takes Scott. That solves that problem. Even though I know I should grab Westbrook, I jump on the Oakland defense instead. Not exactly a make-or-break pick, but it's better than ending up with, well... say... the Patriots defense, for example.
3:43 -- Westbrook or Simmons? If I take Tony, that will be putting way too much pressure on him -- he's on my favorite team, I own his jersey, he's my favorite Patriot, and he's my illegitimate brother. If I take Westbrook, I'm hedging my bets. Plus, Westbrook could have a monster year.
(We say that every year... but no, really, THIS is his year!)
3:44 -- I take Westbrook. Know what that means? Every time you see James Brown breaking into a Fox game with a "Let's go to Washington, where Brad Johnson goes deep down the sideline and finds Michael Westbrook!" highlight... well, I'll be doing backflips and cartwheels in the Sports Guy Mansion.
3:46 -- Joe makes the first "completely stumping the room" pick by taking some guy named Amos Zerouae, a 3rd-round pick who might get a chance to play in Pittsburgh if Jerome Bettis gets hit by a car between now and December.
3:47 -- Camp: "Zer-oh-way? How do you spell that? Huh?"
3:48 -- A Cleveland native, Wiker took Terry Kirby in the 12th. At this point, we aren't even making fun of Wiker's picks anymore. Everything he says gets greeted by stony, embarrassed silence.
3:51 -- The talent pool hasn't just dwindled, it's vanished. Martin Grammatica and Steve Christie just went back to back.
3:56 -- Charlie Garner and Pete Mitchell, welcome aboard! You know it's late in the draft when I'm excited about Charlie Garner and Pete Mitchell. On the bright side, I get to make "Top Gun" jokes about Mitchell all season on our league website. That's right, Iceman! I'm dangerous!
4:02 -- For his final pick, Stoner just screamed out: "My God! Th-that's Trent Dilfer's music!" Nobody in roto history has ever been more excited to take Trent Dilfer.
4:10 -- I finish up the draft with a compensatory pick (because I made a two-for-one trade earlier) taking that Vander-jatt guy from the Colts as my kicker. In fact, I think That Vander-jatt Guy is his full name.
4:20 -- We all spent the last ten minutes argue over who had the best team. We all agreed on one thing... it wasn't the Uncle Booties.
Here's how my team shaped up: Testaverde and Johnson; Taylor, Brown, Hicks and Garner; Freeman, Galloway, Martin, Westbrook and Mitchell; Seattle/Oakland defenses; and That Vander-jatt Guy. Not bad.
Here's how Steve's team looks (I think he's the favorite): Favre and Kitna; James, A. Smith, Kaufman and Jabbar; J. Smith, Hilliard, Mayes, Crowell and Green; Jaguars/Redskins defenses; Grammatica. Pretty good.
Here's Jim's team: Marino and Gannon; Martin, Williams, Enis and Alstott; C. Carter, Rice, Glenn, Dawkins and Gonzalez; Vikings/Niners defenses; Del Greco. Again, pretty good.
Of course, much can happen between now and December, which is precisely what makes roto drafts so much fun. My team will go down the tubes if Galloway doesn't come back or Vinny has one of his weird relapses into CrapVille. I also need Brad Johnson and Gary Brown to stay healthy. And I need my Giants and Redskins guys to come through like I think they will... with the exception of Skip Hicks, who I've already given up on with the season still two weeks away.
So what did we learn? Let's recap...
--1. Always trade up for gamebreakers. This year, Davis, Taylor, Moss and Favre are THE gamebreakers. Everyone else has a question mark.
--2. If you fart while picking Vinny Testaverde during a roto draft, you might cause a full-scale riot.
--3. Fred Taylor. F-R-E-D T-A-Y-L-O-R.
--4. Always gamble on contract holdouts.
--5. Heads up for guys on the Giants and Redskins this year, as well as the Seahawks defense.
--6. (Bubby Brister X roto draft X 4th round) = Laughs.
--7. Don't take Skip Hicks. I jinxed him for the season by taking him too early. He might as well just take out a scalpel and jam it into his left knee.
--8. When you're in a roto draft, insult everyone else as much as possible. It never hurts and it can only help.
--9. Don't pick guys you like, pick guys that will help you win. If I can pass up my brother Tony for Michael Westbrook, that should tell you something. It's all about the Benjamins, baby.
--10. If you're in a prison and your new cellmate says, "Hi, I'm Uncle Booty," just start throwing punches.
--11. Finally, when you're watching football this fall and James Brown cuts in to show you a Johnson-to-Westbrook TD bomb, I hope you think of one thing:
MY GOD! TH-THAT'S THE SPORTS GUY'S MUSIC!!!!
**END**
Copyright by Bill Simmons, 1999
Here's one more old-school fantasy football column that's extremely dated but in a good way, as you'll see when you get to the Marshall Faulk/Trent Green and Vinny/Manning sections. Remember the days when you started everyone on your roster? Remember when we called it "Rotisserie" instead of "Fantasy?" I also found it funny that, in 1999, I felt obligated to explain the basic rules of fantasy football. That was only nine years ago. You'll also notice that I self-plagiarized a couple of the jokes in here in future columns on ESPN. And you'll notice that our revolutionary playoff system was already in place.
Important note: This column is wayyyyyyy too long. I hadn't gotten the hang of cutting down running diaries yet.
****
ROTO FOOTBALL DRAFT DIARY
A running account of being holed up in the war room on draft day
by Bill Simmons
My fantasy football draft took place yesterday in Hartford, Connecticut, the future home of the New England Patr- whoops! I mean, the future home of the WNBA franchise, the Hartford Hookers. Anyway, our league has ten franchises and we each pick a team of 14 NFL players (all of whom count in the weekly stats), including two QB's, 4 RB's, 4 WR's, two defenses, 1 TE and 1 kicker. There is no prize money... as far as YOU know...
(Hello IRS! Good to see you!)
If you know how these things work, feel free to skip this part and scroll down to the diary. If you're interested in the nuts-and-bolts of how a fantasy draft works, keep reading:
* Points are determined by each player's statistics for a given week through a convoluted stat system. You get points (and negative points) for yardage, TD's, length of TD's, shutouts, turnovers, arrests, domestic violence incidents, and so on.
* Each week you face off against another team: Whoever wins in the head-to-head matchup gets the "W" for that week, just like the NFL. The top four teams at the end of the season (17 weeks) make the playoffs ... at that point, each remaining team gets to keep its best six players for the real playoffs, then we have another draft to fill out everyone's roster (the top team gets the #1 pick, and you can take players off any of the non-playoff rosters).
* In the playoffs, the stats are cumulative: The team with the most points through the 4 playoff rounds wins the title. So somebody like Terrell Davis or Fred Taylor is especially important in our draft because you're not just getting him for the regular season, but all of his playoff games as well.
* You can make moves after every week (cut guys, pick up guys, place guys on injured reserve, etc) ... if two teams try to claim an undrafted player, the team with the lower record gets him.
Sound confusing? It's really not that hard. We draft in snake-fashion - first guy picks first, second guy picks second... onto the tenth guy, who picks last in the 1st round and first (11th overall) in the 2nd round. And so on. Our draft order was determined by picking cards before the draft. Here was the order (you don't know any of these people so it doesn't matter): 1) Camp; 2) Jim; 3) Stoner; 4) Wyman; 5) Steve; 6) Russ; 7) Wiker; 8) Joe; 9) Me; 10) Dish.
Last note: Everyone has a team nickname... my nickname has always been the "Banana Hammocks" since I used to wear Jockey underwear and our commissioner (Camp) never let me forget it. Wiker (a rookie franchise) wanted to be called the Cleveland Steamers until Camp decided he should be the "Uncle Booties," after a serial prison rapist named Uncle Booty who was featured in a Salon.com article about prison rape. That's the kind of league you're dealing with here.
Anyway, I kept a running diary of the ensuing draft... here's what happened:
1:00 -- We're coming to you live from Hartford, fresh off a golf outing/bachelor party that lasted until 4:00AM the previous night! Stamina is definitely a factor here: the bachelor of honor (Stoner) endured roughly a dozen lap dances at the aptly-named Gold Club on Saturday night and may have pulled a groin muscle. He looks especially worse for wear. Jim looks in the best shape of anyone since he blew off Saturday's festivities, raising the ire of pretty much everyone in the room. We also have one person calling in by phone -- Camp's brother, Joe -- because it's a long-standing rule that you can't have a roto draft unless at least one person fails to show up and calls in by phone, ruining the draft for the commissioner (who has to spend the whole time recapping every pick on the phone, while also writing down every pick).
1:05 -- Just drew the ninth pick in the draft. DAMMIT! I wanted to be in the Top Four because there are only four "gamebreakers" in the draft: 1) Terrell Davis; 2) Randy Moss; 3) Brett Favre; and 4) Fred Taylor, the four guys whom you KNOW will get you big points week after week. At #9, I'm looking at guys like Curtis Martin and Eddie George. I'm just not happy right now. I also smell like Mickey Rourke during the last hour of "Barfly" and I'm broke, but that's another story.
1:07 -- Jim wants to trade down; he's dangling the #2 pick. Hmmmm. I really want Fred Taylor. I mean, I REALLY want Fred Taylor. If I drew the #1 pick, I probably would have taken him over Davis, just because teams are going to stack the lines against Denver all year (Bubby Brister???). Taylor has young legs, he was incredibly consistent last year, he breaks off long TD runs, he catches passes out of the backfield, and he's on a Super Bowl contender. I haven't lusted for someone like this since Miss Arizona came out in the swimsuit contest during last week's "Miss Teen USA Pageant."
1:10 -- Jim wants a 1st-rounder and a 3rd-rounder for the #2 pick. That means I'd be giving up the #9 and the #29 pick overall for my man Freddie T ... plus, I'd be trading with the guy who blew off Stoner's bachelor party. Those are high stakes. On the other hand, if I stayed put at #9, I'd be spending the next four months watching Curtis Martin carry the ball 26 times for 82 yards every week.
1:11 -- Screw it. I'm making the deal. As the Patriots proved during the '98 Draft, you should always trade up for the "sure thing" guy, no "ifs" "ands" or "buts." The Pats should have packaged picks that year to get Taylor and they didn't do it. Jacksonville did. Now the '99 Jags are headed for the Super Bowl and the '99 Pats are headed to a fiery hell. There's a lesson there somewhere.
1:15 -- Commissioner Camp approves the deal, which sends everyone reeling. Stoner looks especially bummed out at #3; he's wearing an "I hope you're trading up to get Randy Moss and not Fred Taylor" look. On the other hand, that might be a "how many dances do I get for $30 bucks?" look. I'm not sure.
1:20 -- Camper takes Davis at #1... I immediately follow with Taylor at #2. Stoner screams out in dismay. He's stuck with Randy Moss at #3 and vows, "Screw it, I'm taking all criminals this year."
1:25 -- Jamal Anderson, Brett Favre, Randall Cunningham, Mark Brunell and Steve Young go in the #4 to #8 slots. Jim takes Martin with my #9 pick. I'm feeling relatively giddy. Now I'm hoping Antonio Freeman will be there with my #12 pick (the 2nd pick of the second round). Freeman was the top WR in the league for the past two years; now he has a sober Brett Favre throwing to him. He might catch 270 passes this year.
1:27 -- Holding my breath as the 10th team -- Dish, another rookie owner (team name: Petrie Dishes) -- decides what he's doing with his two picks (last pick in the 1st round, first pick of the 2nd round). If he takes Freeman, I'm going with Eddie George. Just to throw him off track, I ask the room, "Jake Plummer hasn't been taken yet, right?" Dish looks confused. That's veteran roto savvy right there on my part.
1:28 -- Dish takes Plummer and Marshall Faulk, who will be gang-tackled at least 300 times this year behind the line of scrimmage now that Trent Green is gone for the season. Woo-hoo! That was beautiful! I love new fish owners in roto drafts. They always come through
1:29 -- Antonio Freeman, welcome aboard to the Banana Hammocks Express! Mmmmm... Fred Taylor AND Antonio Freeman! I love my team! Time to start heckling the room and playing some mind games. Everyone will hate me by the fourth round.
1:35 -- Robert Smith, George, Eric Moulds and Jimmy Smith all just went... now Wyman takes Dorsey Levens, prompting me to say, "Hey, the first guy with a limp is gone!" Wyman looks bummed out, especially with Camp yelling, "Bring out the Gimp!"
1:36 -- Stoner takes Ricky Watters and says simply, "I hate my team." There's nothing worse than being resigned to the fact that you just took Ricky Watters. We've all been there. He's the only guy who can actually be a locker room cancer on a rotisserie team.
1:37 -- After Cris Carter, Keyshawn Johnson and Chris Chandler all go, the talent level drops off. Everyone in my Top 20 was taken in the first 21 picks, along with Levens, who will haunt Wyman all season in a "Kimberly from Melrose Place" kinda way.
1:39 -- Jim rolls the dice with Dan Marino at #22. I actually liked Marino this year -- he finally has a #1 WR with Tony Martin (as well as a great person to launder money with). But I can't let Jim know that. So I made a bunch of "Is this 1985 or 1999?"-type jokes.
Unfortunately, Stoner just took Drew Bledsoe with the next pick, meaning the run on QB's has begun ... and because of my Taylor trade, I have to wait eight more picks before I can grab somebody. Peyton Manning and Vinny Testaverde are the only two "high-rated" guys left on my list -- after that, you're rolling the dice with Steve McNair (good potential, but Tennessee doesn't throw the ball enough), Brad Johnson (only played one healthy season in the NFL) and Doug Flutie (supposedly being pushed by Rob Johnson in Buffalo). All three of those guys make me nervous.
1:41 -- Stoner just incorporated the running joke of the weekend into his last pick!
(Allow me to go off on a tangent here...)
Last week, Stoner bought the WWF music soundtrack and has been playing it nonstop in his car ever since. He tortured us all weekend by repeatedly playing the beginning of the Undertaker's entrance song and screaming "My God! That-that's the Undertaker's music!" (an impersonation of WWF announcer Jim Ross, who always seems amazed any time music comes out of nowhere and a wrestler suddenly emerges from backstage, as if he didn't know it was in the script). So all week long we were yelling that phrase. I'd come out of the bathroom and Stoner would scream, "My God! That-that's Bill Simmons' music!" Asia the Stripper would come out for her dance at the Gold Club in Hartford as Rage in the Machine played in the background and we'd scream out, "My God, that's Asia's music!" And so on. We beat that joke into the ground and THROUGH the ground.
Anyway, as we waited for Stoner to make his pick, he suddenly screamed out, "My God! That-that's Drew Bledsoe's music!" And we knew he was taking Bledsoe.
(That's the kind of stuff that happens when guys spend too much time together over the course of one weekend. And yet I digress...).
1:42 -- Starting to get bored... I've been heckling every pick. While Wyman was on the clock, I kept saying stuff like, "Wyman, Jerome Bettis is on the phone, he really wants to be on your team" and "Wyman, will you accept a collect call from Jerry Rice?" Wyman finally takes Terrell Owens. Dammit. I'm off my game.
1:43 -- The first "Whoa!!!!!!" pick of the day: Steve takes Edgerrin James with the 25th pick overall. I loved Edge and had him rated as my 8th RB overall, but #25 in the whole draft?
1:44 -- Just made a bunch of "Wow, I had to go to the second page of my running back list to cross James off"-type of jokes. That was fun.
1:50 -- Now I feel REALLY good about my Taylor trade. Using my 3rd round pick, Jim took Ricky Williams, who's battling ankle problems on a lousy team with a lousy QB. So if you're scoring at home, I ostensibly traded Martin and Williams for Taylor and a 14th round pick. I'd do that one every day of the week, and not just because it allowed me to sneak the word "ostensibly" into this column. You can't win without gamebreakers, especially gamebreakers that might be playing in the Super Bowl. Unfortunately, Bob Kraft doesn't know this.
(One more thing: At this point, I'm hoping Joey Galloway can fall to my spot in the 5th round because of his contract holdout. If I grab him that low and he comes back, it will make up for the 3rd-rounder I gave away. Cross your fingers.)
1:54 -- Dish takes two receivers (Harrison and McCaffrey) with his sandwich picks. That means I actually get the choice between Vinny and Manning! Hmmmm. Manning has better stats, but Vinny might make the Super Bowl. Plus, he has the best wideouts in the game and might get more long TD's than anyone other than Cunningham. On the flip side, he's Vinny Freaking Testaverde, one of the all-time "roll the dice" guys in the history of roto sports. In '96 and '98, he was an All-Pro; in '97, he was Alpo. Do I really want to tie my fortunes to Vincenzo?
1:55 -- Dammit. I hate this pick. Everyone's gonna laugh, just because that's the knee-jerk reaction whenever somebody says the words "Vinny Testaverde" at a roto draft. In fact, there are two things you can do at a roto football draft that will make everyone laugh: 1) Say the sentence "I'll take Vinny Testaverde," or 2) Fart.
(NOTE: If you ever say "I'll take Vinny Testaverde" while farting, you might cause full-scale pandemonium.)
1:56 -- The room's getting restless as I look up Vinny's stats: 3255 yards and 29 TDs in only 13 games last year. Plus, he's got Keyshawn, Chrebet, and the always underrated Dedric Ward going deep for him. Plus, he'll be in the playoffs, whereas Peyton Manning won't be in the playoffs.
1:57 -- Dammit.
1:58 -- I try to soften the fact that I'm taking Vinny by screaming out, "Good God! That-that's Vinny Testaverde's music!!!"
1:58 -- Waiting for laughter to subside.
1:59 -- Still waiting.
2:00 -- I wish I was dead.
2:05 -- Wiker's first three picks were: Brunell, George and Mathis and Brister. Not bad for a rookie. Unfortunately, he's shuffling though about eight magazines trying to come up with a fourth pick; you just get the sense something awful might happen here.
2:07 -- Woo-hoo! Wiker just took the heat off me by taking Bubby Brister with the 4th pick of the 4th round! Bubby Brister?!?!?! That almost caused a riot in the room. Wiker has that "Pete Carroll after the Tampa Bay game" look on his face right now. He's done for the draft. Nobody can recover from Bubby Brister in the 4th round. That's like having your team bus get into an accident.
(I keep waiting for Wiker to say, "We had a great week of practice... I'm just disappointed right now... we've got to go back to the tapes and see what went wrong with that last pick... we need to get back on track...")
2:12 -- Stoner and Jim just took Emmitt Smith and Jerry Rice back to back. Everyone's giggly and relieved. Those are the types of guys you just hope somebody else takes, just so you don't have to do it yourself. Nothing's scarier than old football players in a roto draft.
2:15 -- As we head into the fifth round, the run on defenses has begun! Jacksonville, Tampa and Minnesota are all gone. Stoner capped off his Tampa pick by disappearing for a second and re-emerging with his "Mike Alstott #40" jersey on while screaming "The Stoner takes the Mighty Bucs! Ahoy! Ahoy!" That was fun.
(Of course, it wasn't as much fun on Saturday night in Hartford while we were in a sports bar watching highlights from the Bucs-Pats game: "Here's Bledsoe getting sacked... here's Alstott scoring his 3rd TD to make it 28-7... here's a kickoff return TD... here's Pete Carroll looking for sharp objects on the sidelines" -- while Stoner screamed "Ahoy! Ahoy!" in the background and did little jigs.)
2:19: The wheels have come off for Wiker, who followed up Brister by taking Adrian Murrell in the fifth round. That prompted this exchange:
--BILL: Does Arizona even have a full offensive line this year? Is that guy who got his arm cut off coming back?
--RUSS: I think he's still their starting left tackle.
--CAMP: Hey, that other arm is still strong.
--BILL: Wiker, do you think Adrian Murrell will have a big year behind the first ever nine-armed offensive line?
--WIKER: Ummm... hey, are we gonna order pizza or anything, guys?
2:22 -- I have two of the next four picks; my little gamble paid off because Galloway is still available. This happens every year in roto drafts: someone drops three rounds lower than they should because of an injury or a contract holdout, but they always end up playing and playing well. Basically, if I take Galloway here and he comes back to the Seahawks (from his contract holdout), it would be like getting a 2nd round pick in the 5th.
Here's where some strategy comes in: Dish has the next two picks after me and he already has two receivers -- no way he'll take Galloway. So I'll take Gary Brown (the Giants RB whom I like) because I can get Galloway coming back.
2:25 -- Not only does Dish pass on Galloway, but he takes the Atlanta defense and Charlie Batch with his two picks. Good God, that-that's Charlie Batch's music!!! I love rookie roto owners.
2:26 -- I'm about to take Galloway, but not before asking the question, "Charlie Batch just got taken? Are we in the 13th round? Did I pass out or something?" Man, roto drafts are fun.
2:28 -- Now I can pretty much relax. The core of my team is set: Taylor, Freeman, Vinny, Brown and Galloway. I'm not taking a kicker until the last round (is there really a difference between Jason Elam and Al Del Greco?); I'm waiting until late to take my tight end (I love Pete Mitchell on the Giants); and I'm waiting until the mid-to-late rounds to get my defenses (I should be able to get two from Seattle, Miami and Oakland). That means I can take the best available guys for the next four rounds, while concentrating my energies on insulting everyone else.
2:29 -- It's amazing how exciting a roto draft can be when you're waiting to see if your master plan will actually unfold according to plan.
2:30 -- I really need a life.
2:33 -- Russ takes Lawrence Phillips, prompting a barrage of giggles. This draft could have lasted 30 rounds and I wouldn't have taken Lawrence Phillips. My buddy Bish lives in San Fran and tells me Charlie Garner will be the starting RB by Week One. Hopefully, nobody else knows that in this room.
2:38 -- Dammit! Jim takes Terry Glenn with the second-to-last pick in the 6th round. I was secretly hoping he'd be there for me in the 7th... with TG, at least you know you'll get seven or eight great games out of him before he goes on injured reserve with a pulled hamstring or ovarian cysts.
Now Jim's glancing at me to gage my reaction... I give him the old, "You'll get two weeks out of him before he gets hurt."
(I'm in All-Pro form right now.)
2:44 -- Apparently we bought Stoner one too many shots tonight... he just took Terry Allen in the 7th round. I'm starting to think I can get Tony Martin (ready for a monster season in Miami, and you heard it here first).
2:49 -- I'm up in the 7th. My choices are 1) Tony Martin; 2) Warrick Dunn; 3) Skip Hicks; 4) Brad Johnson; 5) The Completely-Insane Curtis Enis. I like Martin the most, but I can get him in the 8th round. And I can probably wait on Johnson. So I need a RB. Hmmmm. Dunn, Hicks or Enis?
2:50 -- Looking up their stats...
2:51 -- I had Dunn last season and he was the master of the "12 carries for 70 yards and no TD's" game. He drove me crazy. (Remember, Mike Alstott gets all the TD's for Tampa.) I like The Completely-Insane Curtis Enis' potential, but he's on a lousy team and, well, he's completely insane. I'm trying to avoid crazy guys this year. As for Hicks, he finished strong last year and he's playing for an underrated team (the Skins) that will score a ton of points this team. One drawback -- he might get edged out by Stephen Davis for the starting job. Hmmm...
2:51 -- Just took Hicks. That's the first pick I don't feel good about.
2:51 -- Steve says, "He might not even start for them, you know." Yeah. I know.
2:52 -- I'm on suicide watch right now. I should have taken Enis. So what if he's completely insane?
3:00 -- As insult to injury, Jim takes Enis seven picks later. I have a little Enis Envy right now. Time to start lashing out at people to make myself feel better.
3:03 -- Camp just took Michael Irvin and Morten Anderson with his sandwich picks... I followed that up with, "In other words, 'Pass.'" That felt good.
3:05 -- Stoner takes Ben Coates. No surprise there. Those two have gotten together more times over the years than Don Johnson and Melanie Griffith.
3:10 -- Wiker makes another rookie mistake, taking the ageless Leroy Hoard for the Uncle Booties. All of us smile knowingly. We've all had Leroy Hoard on our team at some point in our lives. He's like the high school slut who everyone on the football team has slept with... then a new transfer comes in senior year and meets her and starts dating her, and everyone else on the team gets a big kick out of it. We've ALL been with Leroy.
3:15 -- People are reaching like Freddie Krueger right now. I mean, Kevin Faulk and Fred Lane just got taken! On the bright side, I was able to end up with the Seattle defense AND Brad Johnson. The Seahawks are loaded with interception/sack guys, Galloway always scores for their special teams and they're playing a cream puff schedule this season. (Detroit, Chicago, Cincy, Pittsburgh, San Diego twice, Oakland twice, and KC twice.) And I love Johnson. When he's healthy, the guy produces -- people forget this because Randall Cunningham pushed him out in Minnesota. Plus, he's playing for a good offensive team with a lot of weapons. So I'm happy.
3:20 -- Kordell Stewart just got snapped up by Joe, prompting a barrage of unprintable jokes from the peanut gallery. Last year, Kordell went 3rd in the whole draft. This year, he went 93rd. Enough said.
3:23 -- Russ grabs Muhsin Muhammad, the second Muslim taken today. It's fun to take Muslims, isn't it? By the way, we have three pizzas arriving momentarily, which should wreak complete havoc on this draft. People are so hungry that we're all getting that glazed look like the guys from the rugby team in "Alive."
3:26 -- Stoner took Bam Morris, explaining simply, "He fits in with the rest of my team. Now Ricky Watters and Randy Moss have someone else to hang out with."
3:29 -- Good God! That-that's Pizza Hut's music!!!
3:31 -- The pressures of being Commish have apparently gotten to Camp, who just took Chris Warren with the last pick of the 10th round while inhaling a slice of peppeoni pizza. Somebody just asked Camp if he was using a "Roto Preview" magazine from 1992.
3:35 -- I need a good sleeper receiver for my #4 WR slot. The candidates?
1. Michael Westbrook -- Always tantalizing, always disappointing.
2. JJ Stokes -- Supposedly having a monster preseason, but he's still behind Rice and Owens.
3. Darnay Scott -- The #1 guy in Cincy with Carl Pickens apparently missing or dead.
4. Torry Holt -- Rams rookie who will definitely be their #1 wideout when Isaac Bruce gets hurt. Unfortunately, Trent Green just tore knee ligaments last night and Haywood Jablome has just been named the new starter.
5. David Boston -- Arizona rookie... might get buried behind Sanders and Moore.
6. Tony Simmons -- My illegitimate brother.
Hmmm... for some reason, I like Scott. Can't explain it.
3:40 -- Wiker takes Scott. That solves that problem. Even though I know I should grab Westbrook, I jump on the Oakland defense instead. Not exactly a make-or-break pick, but it's better than ending up with, well... say... the Patriots defense, for example.
3:43 -- Westbrook or Simmons? If I take Tony, that will be putting way too much pressure on him -- he's on my favorite team, I own his jersey, he's my favorite Patriot, and he's my illegitimate brother. If I take Westbrook, I'm hedging my bets. Plus, Westbrook could have a monster year.
(We say that every year... but no, really, THIS is his year!)
3:44 -- I take Westbrook. Know what that means? Every time you see James Brown breaking into a Fox game with a "Let's go to Washington, where Brad Johnson goes deep down the sideline and finds Michael Westbrook!" highlight... well, I'll be doing backflips and cartwheels in the Sports Guy Mansion.
3:46 -- Joe makes the first "completely stumping the room" pick by taking some guy named Amos Zerouae, a 3rd-round pick who might get a chance to play in Pittsburgh if Jerome Bettis gets hit by a car between now and December.
3:47 -- Camp: "Zer-oh-way? How do you spell that? Huh?"
3:48 -- A Cleveland native, Wiker took Terry Kirby in the 12th. At this point, we aren't even making fun of Wiker's picks anymore. Everything he says gets greeted by stony, embarrassed silence.
3:51 -- The talent pool hasn't just dwindled, it's vanished. Martin Grammatica and Steve Christie just went back to back.
3:56 -- Charlie Garner and Pete Mitchell, welcome aboard! You know it's late in the draft when I'm excited about Charlie Garner and Pete Mitchell. On the bright side, I get to make "Top Gun" jokes about Mitchell all season on our league website. That's right, Iceman! I'm dangerous!
4:02 -- For his final pick, Stoner just screamed out: "My God! Th-that's Trent Dilfer's music!" Nobody in roto history has ever been more excited to take Trent Dilfer.
4:10 -- I finish up the draft with a compensatory pick (because I made a two-for-one trade earlier) taking that Vander-jatt guy from the Colts as my kicker. In fact, I think That Vander-jatt Guy is his full name.
4:20 -- We all spent the last ten minutes argue over who had the best team. We all agreed on one thing... it wasn't the Uncle Booties.
Here's how my team shaped up: Testaverde and Johnson; Taylor, Brown, Hicks and Garner; Freeman, Galloway, Martin, Westbrook and Mitchell; Seattle/Oakland defenses; and That Vander-jatt Guy. Not bad.
Here's how Steve's team looks (I think he's the favorite): Favre and Kitna; James, A. Smith, Kaufman and Jabbar; J. Smith, Hilliard, Mayes, Crowell and Green; Jaguars/Redskins defenses; Grammatica. Pretty good.
Here's Jim's team: Marino and Gannon; Martin, Williams, Enis and Alstott; C. Carter, Rice, Glenn, Dawkins and Gonzalez; Vikings/Niners defenses; Del Greco. Again, pretty good.
Of course, much can happen between now and December, which is precisely what makes roto drafts so much fun. My team will go down the tubes if Galloway doesn't come back or Vinny has one of his weird relapses into CrapVille. I also need Brad Johnson and Gary Brown to stay healthy. And I need my Giants and Redskins guys to come through like I think they will... with the exception of Skip Hicks, who I've already given up on with the season still two weeks away.
So what did we learn? Let's recap...
--1. Always trade up for gamebreakers. This year, Davis, Taylor, Moss and Favre are THE gamebreakers. Everyone else has a question mark.
--2. If you fart while picking Vinny Testaverde during a roto draft, you might cause a full-scale riot.
--3. Fred Taylor. F-R-E-D T-A-Y-L-O-R.
--4. Always gamble on contract holdouts.
--5. Heads up for guys on the Giants and Redskins this year, as well as the Seahawks defense.
--6. (Bubby Brister X roto draft X 4th round) = Laughs.
--7. Don't take Skip Hicks. I jinxed him for the season by taking him too early. He might as well just take out a scalpel and jam it into his left knee.
--8. When you're in a roto draft, insult everyone else as much as possible. It never hurts and it can only help.
--9. Don't pick guys you like, pick guys that will help you win. If I can pass up my brother Tony for Michael Westbrook, that should tell you something. It's all about the Benjamins, baby.
--10. If you're in a prison and your new cellmate says, "Hi, I'm Uncle Booty," just start throwing punches.
--11. Finally, when you're watching football this fall and James Brown cuts in to show you a Johnson-to-Westbrook TD bomb, I hope you think of one thing:
MY GOD! TH-THAT'S THE SPORTS GUY'S MUSIC!!!!
**END**
Copyright by Bill Simmons, 1999
August 15, 1999 - The perils of golf announcing
Ahhh, yes... the good old days when I could poke fun at bad sports announcing. I probably went a tad overboard here, but screw it - we needed to post this one with the 2008 U.S. Open coming up this weekend. Enjoy the unfathomably dated references to "The Blair Witch Project."
**
**
THE PERILS OF ANNOUNCING, VOL. XXIII
Why is it so hard to announce a golf major?
by Bill Simmons
My favorite moment of today's PGA championship occured when Sergio Garcia drained a 15-foot birdie on the 13th green: a twisting, downhill putt that no teenager should have made under the circumstances, bringing him within three strokes of leader and resident superhero Tiger Woods. With Tiger watching the putt from the 13th tee, young Sergio pumped his fist and walked towards the icon, holding his fist in the air and staring him down. Just a great sports moment, golf's equivalent of Stone Cold Steve Austin standing on the top rope and giving the middle finger to Vince McMahon. Stuff like that never happens in golf... which is precisely what made it so much fun.
Of course, my least favorite moment of yesterday's PGA Championship occured after the upstart teenager's extended fist-pump, as the CBS announcers had a collective orgasm.
First, Jim Nantz uncrossed his legs long enough to scream out something like "I think that was an extra message for Tiger!" His cronies in the booth reiterated his feelings. CBS showed us a replay. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another. The CBS guys were practically pulling their pants down and rushing the 13th green, they were so fired up. Nantz desperately tried to seize the moment, yelping something like, "If Tiger and Sergio are to be the next great rivalry in golf, then we can look back to the 13th hole at Medinah to where it began."
"Excellent point, Jim," Ken Venturi agreed.
"Man, what a moment!" another of Jim's cronies gushed.
As for me, I wasn't enjoying the moment so much anymore. The CBS guys ruined it for me. No big surprise there; golf announcers ruin everything. It's gotten to the point where you can't watch golf anymore without wanting to press the mute button, which puts the sport in line with just about everything else these days.
So here's my question: Why is it so damned difficult to broadcast a golf match?
Really, is it that hard? There wasn't anybody watching the PGA Tournament yesterday for Peter Oosterhuis, Peter Kostis, David Feherty, Ken Venturi or Jim Nantz; we were watching to see if Tiger could hold off this Sergio guy. That's it. And yet everyone on CBS thought we were watching the tournament just to hear them babble and repeat themselves and reiterate themselves and expound on the same points and say the same things and blurt out the same, worn-out cliches over and over again.
Hey, it shouldn't be that difficult to announce a golf tournament. Just stick to these rules:
* When somebody is mulling over their next shot, tell me how far they have to the hole. Tell me if they have a clear shot. Tell me what club they're using. Tell me if the ball is resting in a good lie. If you disagree with a choice they just made, tell me why as succinctly as possible, do not repeat what you just said, then shut up.
* When somebody hits a drive, just tell me where it's landing. When somebody hits an approach, tell me where it's headed while it's still in the air - the green, the hole, a spectator's face, wherever. If a shot is heading left or right, tell me "left" or "right" while it's in the air, then shut up.
* When we're looking at a chip shot or long putt, tell me if it's possible for the ball to get close to the hole. Tell me if the greens have been fast or slow. Tell me if there have been comparable putts/chips from that spot earlier in the day, what happened on those shots, then shut up.
That's it. If you're saying anything not related to any of those ten things, shut up. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. Shut up. Shut the hell up. Shut up. For the love of God, shut up. Just shut up. Please please PLEASE shut the fuck up.
So how would they know if they're not sticking to one of those guidelines? Well, that's why I'm here. Here are ten ways to improve golf telecasts and make them somewhat palatable:
POINTER #1: Be honest.
Don't sugarcoat your comments. When someone is stinking out the joint, we can tell simply because no athlete seems more "naked" than a golfer having a bad day. For instance, some out-of-nowhere guy named Mike Weir was playing with Tiger and submitting a performance worthy of Carl the Gardner from "Caddyshack." It was a familiar story, a Roy McAvoy-type putting together three great rounds before self-destructing in the fourth round under the TV lights. It happens every golf tournament. There's always a Mike Weir involved. Always.
So Weir's putting in on the 18th for an 80 -- repeat, 80 -- and one of the CBS guys tells us, "He'll be back. He'll be back. He got some good experience today."
Good experience? Good experience? The guy just shot an 80 in the final group in the final round of a major. He could crash his car on the way home and have a better experience than that. Are you kidding me?
POINTER #2: Don't try to be funny
As most local sports radio shows prove, there's nothing worse than a group of people trying to be funny who aren't funny. Golf announcers are especially tough to take because they aren't clever enough to come up with their own material, so they latch onto something entertaining and try to feed off the humor of the moment. For example, yesterday's announcers were giddy every time Sergio did one of his little hops or made one of his goofy faces. (Too bad Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf wasn't playing; they would have loved him.) Anyway, see if some of these sentences sound familiar:
"Oh, look at him! Is he having fun out there or what? This kid's something special! I love this kid! Does the gallery love this guy or what? Is this kid fun to watch or what? I'll tell you, this kid is something special! Is this a coming-out party or what? Is this kid 19 or 39? The gallery is eating this kid up! Does this kid have a personality or what? Can you have more fun than this guy? Is this kid delightful or what?" And so on.
Say it once and it's fine. Say it 100 times and I'm getting angry. Say it 10,000 times over the course of four hours and suddenly I'm rooting for a tree to fall on young Sergio.
POINTER #3: Stop using the same damned cliches every tournament
If I hear the phrase "You couldn't have dropped that ball any better down the middle of the fairway" one more time, I'm having an aneuryism.
Repeat: If somebody says the phrase "You couldn't have dropped that ball any better down the middle of the fairway" one more time on national TV during a professional golf tournament, a blood clot will form in my brain, clog an artery, and cause me to have a seizure. I'm not kidding. I can already feel a warm spot above my temple that wasn't there at 2:00 yesterday afternoon.
POINTER #4: But if you insist on using cliches...
There are two acceptable ones: "Now that's a golf shot" and "Just bring your putter." Those are okay. Just don't use them too much.
POINTER #5: Don't try to make every golf tournament "special"
Why? Because when you make every golf tournament seem special, it's more difficult to realize when you're actually watching something special... you know, like a 19-year-old muchacho from Spain trying to kick Tiger's behind in a freaking major. Remember how the electric Jose Maria OlaTHHHHHHHHHHabal was putting the finishing touches on the '99 Masters and Jim Nantz told us, "Here's the walk up the 18th fairway... and let's listen to this ovation!"?
(Polite clapping)
Sound familiar? Of course it does. Nantz said the same thing twice today -- once for Sergio and once for Tiger -- and says the same thing at least once a tournament. OJ Simpson could be walking up the 18th with people firing gunshots at him and Nantz would gush, "And let's listen to this ovation."
POINTER #6: Remember, this is GOLF we're dealing with here
Because golf isn't spontaneous or dangerous, most announcers overcompensate by going bonkers whenever a golfer does anything out of the ordinary. For instance, young Sergio was stuck with a horrific lie for his second shot on 16; the ball was hugging a tree stump and begging for the proverbial Judge Smails foot wedge. Since Sergio was, you know, TRYING TO WIN HIS FIRST MAJOR, he decided to try and hit the shot with a slice... nearly an impossible shot, but not that dangerous unless he missed the ball completely and smacked his club into a tree.
Of course, the CBS announcers made it sound like Sergio was trying hit the ball next to one of the trees from the Blair Witch woods.
"Somebody call an osteopath," Peter Kostis gasped. "This is the kind of shot that can end somebody's career... he could break both of his wrists and ruin his career if he tries this... OH MY GOD HE HAS HIS FOUR-IRON OUT!... I'm closing my eyes... I don't even want to watch this... I've never been so scared in my whole life... HE DID IT! HE DID IT! AND IT'S ON THE GREEN!!!!!!!"
Great shot? Absolutely. One of the best ever. But we all knew Sergio wasn't getting hurt. A drunken hacker playing at a public country club might get hurt, yes... but not a professional, and especially not a skilled professional. It's not happening. You know it and I know it.
Now if Sergio went back after that shot and saw a pile of sticks and slime all over his golf bag... well, I would have been impressed.
POINTER #7: Cool it with the "history" angle
We know it's a major. We know the PGA Championship has been played for 100 billion years. We know there's some history here. Now can we concentrate on this year's tournament? Christ, if Tiger snuck into the woods to take a leak after the ninth hole, Nantz would have gushed, "And nature is calling for Tiger Woods, bringing back memories of Gene Sarazen's bowel movement in the woods during the 1917 tournament that set off a near-stampede in the gallery..."
POINTER #8: It's impossible to create a rivalry
Rivalries just kinda happen. McEnroe and Borg. McGwire and Sosa. Chris and Martina. Bird and Magic. Ali and Frazier. Dylan and Brandon. They all just kinda happened. You can put two talented athletes in position to have a great rivalry, but they need to possess the requisite amount of charisma -- both of them -- which is why all the media-created rivalries of the past decade bombed so miserably: MJ and the Mailman, Griffey and Bonds, Sampras and Agassi, Steffi and Martina, Tyson and Holyfield, Woods and Duval, and everyone else. Even with two charismatic competitors, they still need to raise each other to another level, do this repeatedly, and display a joint ability to seize The Moment. Then, and only then, can you have a great rivalry.
So for Nantz to tell me that yesterday's Garcia-Woods battle was the beginning of golf's next great rivalry... well, I found it a little insulting, to say the least. Let's let young Sergio finish puberty first.
POINTER #9: Silence is golden
One of the networks needs to televise a golf tournament and order their announcers not to speak unless it's absolutely relevant. Stick to my aforementioned Ten Tips and see what happens. I'm begging you. Just once.
And if you won't give us #9...
POINTER #10: Electroshock treatment
It's barbaric, it's senseless... but it might be our only recourse.
"You couldn't have dropped that ball any better down the middle of the fair-- AHHH!!!!"
"Is he having fun out there or wha- AAAHHH!"
"Now that's a gold sh-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
"He'll be back. He may have shot an 80, but he'll be ba-AAAAHHHH!"
"Somebody forgot to tell Sergio that the tournament was ov-AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
"Here's the walk up the 18th fairway... and let's listen to this ova-AHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! MY INSIDES ARE BURNING UP! AAAAAAAAAAAAaHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
**END**
Ahhh, yes... the good old days when I could poke fun at bad sports announcing. I probably went a tad overboard here, but screw it - we needed to post this one with the 2008 U.S. Open coming up this weekend. Enjoy the unfathomably dated references to "The Blair Witch Project."
**
**
THE PERILS OF ANNOUNCING, VOL. XXIII
Why is it so hard to announce a golf major?
by Bill Simmons
My favorite moment of today's PGA championship occured when Sergio Garcia drained a 15-foot birdie on the 13th green: a twisting, downhill putt that no teenager should have made under the circumstances, bringing him within three strokes of leader and resident superhero Tiger Woods. With Tiger watching the putt from the 13th tee, young Sergio pumped his fist and walked towards the icon, holding his fist in the air and staring him down. Just a great sports moment, golf's equivalent of Stone Cold Steve Austin standing on the top rope and giving the middle finger to Vince McMahon. Stuff like that never happens in golf... which is precisely what made it so much fun.
Of course, my least favorite moment of yesterday's PGA Championship occured after the upstart teenager's extended fist-pump, as the CBS announcers had a collective orgasm.
First, Jim Nantz uncrossed his legs long enough to scream out something like "I think that was an extra message for Tiger!" His cronies in the booth reiterated his feelings. CBS showed us a replay. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then another. The CBS guys were practically pulling their pants down and rushing the 13th green, they were so fired up. Nantz desperately tried to seize the moment, yelping something like, "If Tiger and Sergio are to be the next great rivalry in golf, then we can look back to the 13th hole at Medinah to where it began."
"Excellent point, Jim," Ken Venturi agreed.
"Man, what a moment!" another of Jim's cronies gushed.
As for me, I wasn't enjoying the moment so much anymore. The CBS guys ruined it for me. No big surprise there; golf announcers ruin everything. It's gotten to the point where you can't watch golf anymore without wanting to press the mute button, which puts the sport in line with just about everything else these days.
So here's my question: Why is it so damned difficult to broadcast a golf match?
Really, is it that hard? There wasn't anybody watching the PGA Tournament yesterday for Peter Oosterhuis, Peter Kostis, David Feherty, Ken Venturi or Jim Nantz; we were watching to see if Tiger could hold off this Sergio guy. That's it. And yet everyone on CBS thought we were watching the tournament just to hear them babble and repeat themselves and reiterate themselves and expound on the same points and say the same things and blurt out the same, worn-out cliches over and over again.
Hey, it shouldn't be that difficult to announce a golf tournament. Just stick to these rules:
* When somebody is mulling over their next shot, tell me how far they have to the hole. Tell me if they have a clear shot. Tell me what club they're using. Tell me if the ball is resting in a good lie. If you disagree with a choice they just made, tell me why as succinctly as possible, do not repeat what you just said, then shut up.
* When somebody hits a drive, just tell me where it's landing. When somebody hits an approach, tell me where it's headed while it's still in the air - the green, the hole, a spectator's face, wherever. If a shot is heading left or right, tell me "left" or "right" while it's in the air, then shut up.
* When we're looking at a chip shot or long putt, tell me if it's possible for the ball to get close to the hole. Tell me if the greens have been fast or slow. Tell me if there have been comparable putts/chips from that spot earlier in the day, what happened on those shots, then shut up.
That's it. If you're saying anything not related to any of those ten things, shut up. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. Shut up. Shut the hell up. Shut up. For the love of God, shut up. Just shut up. Please please PLEASE shut the fuck up.
So how would they know if they're not sticking to one of those guidelines? Well, that's why I'm here. Here are ten ways to improve golf telecasts and make them somewhat palatable:
POINTER #1: Be honest.
Don't sugarcoat your comments. When someone is stinking out the joint, we can tell simply because no athlete seems more "naked" than a golfer having a bad day. For instance, some out-of-nowhere guy named Mike Weir was playing with Tiger and submitting a performance worthy of Carl the Gardner from "Caddyshack." It was a familiar story, a Roy McAvoy-type putting together three great rounds before self-destructing in the fourth round under the TV lights. It happens every golf tournament. There's always a Mike Weir involved. Always.
So Weir's putting in on the 18th for an 80 -- repeat, 80 -- and one of the CBS guys tells us, "He'll be back. He'll be back. He got some good experience today."
Good experience? Good experience? The guy just shot an 80 in the final group in the final round of a major. He could crash his car on the way home and have a better experience than that. Are you kidding me?
POINTER #2: Don't try to be funny
As most local sports radio shows prove, there's nothing worse than a group of people trying to be funny who aren't funny. Golf announcers are especially tough to take because they aren't clever enough to come up with their own material, so they latch onto something entertaining and try to feed off the humor of the moment. For example, yesterday's announcers were giddy every time Sergio did one of his little hops or made one of his goofy faces. (Too bad Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf wasn't playing; they would have loved him.) Anyway, see if some of these sentences sound familiar:
"Oh, look at him! Is he having fun out there or what? This kid's something special! I love this kid! Does the gallery love this guy or what? Is this kid fun to watch or what? I'll tell you, this kid is something special! Is this a coming-out party or what? Is this kid 19 or 39? The gallery is eating this kid up! Does this kid have a personality or what? Can you have more fun than this guy? Is this kid delightful or what?" And so on.
Say it once and it's fine. Say it 100 times and I'm getting angry. Say it 10,000 times over the course of four hours and suddenly I'm rooting for a tree to fall on young Sergio.
POINTER #3: Stop using the same damned cliches every tournament
If I hear the phrase "You couldn't have dropped that ball any better down the middle of the fairway" one more time, I'm having an aneuryism.
Repeat: If somebody says the phrase "You couldn't have dropped that ball any better down the middle of the fairway" one more time on national TV during a professional golf tournament, a blood clot will form in my brain, clog an artery, and cause me to have a seizure. I'm not kidding. I can already feel a warm spot above my temple that wasn't there at 2:00 yesterday afternoon.
POINTER #4: But if you insist on using cliches...
There are two acceptable ones: "Now that's a golf shot" and "Just bring your putter." Those are okay. Just don't use them too much.
POINTER #5: Don't try to make every golf tournament "special"
Why? Because when you make every golf tournament seem special, it's more difficult to realize when you're actually watching something special... you know, like a 19-year-old muchacho from Spain trying to kick Tiger's behind in a freaking major. Remember how the electric Jose Maria OlaTHHHHHHHHHHabal was putting the finishing touches on the '99 Masters and Jim Nantz told us, "Here's the walk up the 18th fairway... and let's listen to this ovation!"?
(Polite clapping)
Sound familiar? Of course it does. Nantz said the same thing twice today -- once for Sergio and once for Tiger -- and says the same thing at least once a tournament. OJ Simpson could be walking up the 18th with people firing gunshots at him and Nantz would gush, "And let's listen to this ovation."
POINTER #6: Remember, this is GOLF we're dealing with here
Because golf isn't spontaneous or dangerous, most announcers overcompensate by going bonkers whenever a golfer does anything out of the ordinary. For instance, young Sergio was stuck with a horrific lie for his second shot on 16; the ball was hugging a tree stump and begging for the proverbial Judge Smails foot wedge. Since Sergio was, you know, TRYING TO WIN HIS FIRST MAJOR, he decided to try and hit the shot with a slice... nearly an impossible shot, but not that dangerous unless he missed the ball completely and smacked his club into a tree.
Of course, the CBS announcers made it sound like Sergio was trying hit the ball next to one of the trees from the Blair Witch woods.
"Somebody call an osteopath," Peter Kostis gasped. "This is the kind of shot that can end somebody's career... he could break both of his wrists and ruin his career if he tries this... OH MY GOD HE HAS HIS FOUR-IRON OUT!... I'm closing my eyes... I don't even want to watch this... I've never been so scared in my whole life... HE DID IT! HE DID IT! AND IT'S ON THE GREEN!!!!!!!"
Great shot? Absolutely. One of the best ever. But we all knew Sergio wasn't getting hurt. A drunken hacker playing at a public country club might get hurt, yes... but not a professional, and especially not a skilled professional. It's not happening. You know it and I know it.
Now if Sergio went back after that shot and saw a pile of sticks and slime all over his golf bag... well, I would have been impressed.
POINTER #7: Cool it with the "history" angle
We know it's a major. We know the PGA Championship has been played for 100 billion years. We know there's some history here. Now can we concentrate on this year's tournament? Christ, if Tiger snuck into the woods to take a leak after the ninth hole, Nantz would have gushed, "And nature is calling for Tiger Woods, bringing back memories of Gene Sarazen's bowel movement in the woods during the 1917 tournament that set off a near-stampede in the gallery..."
POINTER #8: It's impossible to create a rivalry
Rivalries just kinda happen. McEnroe and Borg. McGwire and Sosa. Chris and Martina. Bird and Magic. Ali and Frazier. Dylan and Brandon. They all just kinda happened. You can put two talented athletes in position to have a great rivalry, but they need to possess the requisite amount of charisma -- both of them -- which is why all the media-created rivalries of the past decade bombed so miserably: MJ and the Mailman, Griffey and Bonds, Sampras and Agassi, Steffi and Martina, Tyson and Holyfield, Woods and Duval, and everyone else. Even with two charismatic competitors, they still need to raise each other to another level, do this repeatedly, and display a joint ability to seize The Moment. Then, and only then, can you have a great rivalry.
So for Nantz to tell me that yesterday's Garcia-Woods battle was the beginning of golf's next great rivalry... well, I found it a little insulting, to say the least. Let's let young Sergio finish puberty first.
POINTER #9: Silence is golden
One of the networks needs to televise a golf tournament and order their announcers not to speak unless it's absolutely relevant. Stick to my aforementioned Ten Tips and see what happens. I'm begging you. Just once.
And if you won't give us #9...
POINTER #10: Electroshock treatment
It's barbaric, it's senseless... but it might be our only recourse.
"You couldn't have dropped that ball any better down the middle of the fair-- AHHH!!!!"
"Is he having fun out there or wha- AAAHHH!"
"Now that's a gold sh-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
"He'll be back. He may have shot an 80, but he'll be ba-AAAAHHHH!"
"Somebody forgot to tell Sergio that the tournament was ov-AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
"Here's the walk up the 18th fairway... and let's listen to this ova-AHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! MY INSIDES ARE BURNING UP! AAAAAAAAAAAAaHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
**END**
March 22, 2000 - Boston Media & the SI Jinx
One of my favorite BSG columns because of the WEEI stuff and the Sports Final section. The one part I butchered was the Will McDonough section, which should have been funnier (not sure what I was going for there).
**
**
RANTING AND RAVING
With S.I. picking the Red Sox to win the 2000 World Series, how will local sports media members react? SG has a sneak preview!
by Bill Simmons
In case you missed it, Sports Illustrated stuck Pedro Martinez on this week's cover with the headline "Why the Red Sox Will Win the World Series," a development which ripped through an panic-stricken New England area with the deadly efficiency of the ebola virus. Since the Boston sports media thrives on torturing local fans and ruining their collective will to live, you can only guess what might happen in print and on the local airwaves now that the dreaded SI Jinx has joined forces with the Curse of the Bambino.
In fact, you can almost predict what will happen... let's take a look, shall we? Here's what you might be reading/hearing/seeing over the next few days:
OPENING PARAGRAPHS OF THE NEXT DAN SHAUGHNESSY COLUMN, THURSDAY, MARCH 22
Your mother-in-law just announced she's moving in for a few weeks. Your accountant just remembered that he forgot to file your tax forms. Your daughter just came home from college with a tongue piercing and a boyfriend named Jamaal X. And now, Sports Illustrated has slapped the dreaded SI Jinx on Red Sox Nation.
You can bet the Fellowship of the Miserable will be in full-force today. Optimism in New England was running especially high this spring after the Sox rallied back against Cleveland last October and took the Yankees to five tough games. With Pedro and Nomar back, Ramon healthy and Nixon and Varitek ready for breakthrough seasons, Sox fans were actually mulling "This could be the year" thoughts. There was a surprising feeling of optimism surfacing around Red Sox camp, as the ghosts of Bill Buckner, Denny Galehouse, Bucky Dent, Luis Aparicio, Larry Andersen, Enos Slaughter and the Bambino himself seemed to have disappeared to haunt some other wretched franchise.
Now? All those ghosts are back in full-force. The SI Jinx has joined forces with the Curse of the Bambino. Get ready for another disappointing season, Sox fans. It might be a new millennium, but this one will be crueler than the last. Amen.
SEGMENT FROM THE "DENNIS AND CALLAHAN" SHOW, THURSDAY MORNING, 3/23
-JD: Well, Gerry, let's talk about this SI Jinx and the Red Sox. SPORTS ILLUSTATED has made the Red Sox their World Series Pick this year.
-GC: (audible sneering sound, followed by a cackle)
-JD: The cover shows PEDRO MARTINEZ holding a baseball with the caption, "Why the Red Sox will win the World Series (reason #1: Pedro Martinez)." As you can guess, our DUMP LINE is lighting up, so call in now at 555-Dump so you can sound like a DRUNKEN RETARD and we can make fun of you on the air.
-GC: Yeah, this should be great... you can hear the screams from Sox fans... I love when they get riled up. Losers. Die, all of you.
-JD: The dreaded SI JINX strikes again! Didn't you used to work there, Gerry?
-GC: I left because they turned down my idea for a weekly column: "Why I Hate Sports." Hey, lemme see that magazine... (pause) How come this has Bob Kraft's address on it? You steal this from the Kraft house?
-JD: No, I was over there for dinner last night and they let me borrow a copy.
-GC: Did you tell them we're in a movie?
-JD: I did, I did. In case you haven't heard, Gerry and I are in the new FARRELLY BROTHERS movie. We play two prison guards and we were just DELIGHTED to be involved.
-GC: You guys are gonna love this movie. I don't like anything, but I loved the script. And Lenny Clarke's in it.
-JD: Is he GREAT? Is he FUNNY? Is he SOMETHIN' ELSE?
-GC: He's great. The best. We love Lenny.
-JD: We're playing golf with him today.
-GC: I know, I know... you shouldn't mention that on the air though because everyone will be jealous. Remember, our listeners might not think we're normal guys because we make a combined half million bucks a year, we both have wives and kids, we play golf every day and we haven't been in a sports bar in ten years.
-JD: Right, right... let's talk about guy talk stuff... um...
-GC: How 'bout that Sopranos show last night?
-JD: Yeah. GREAT show. And how bout the next "Sex On a Beach" show?
-GC: Do those lifeguards have huge jugs or what?
-JD: Enormous! I'd love to drink beer and put my head between those!
-GC: Hi-yo!!!!!!!!!!!!
-JD: See, we're just two guys, talking just like normal guys would!
OPENING PARAGRAPHS FROM STEVE BUCKLEY'S HERALD COLUMN, THURSDAY, 3/23
Hey Red Sox Nation, you're not scared of a stupid jinx, are you???
Remember folks, they play the game on the field, not on the cover of a national magazine. You think Pedro and Ramon care what SI has to say? You think a veteran with a World Series ring like Bret Saberhagen cares about a jinx? You think Rich Garces can even read?
Listen, you have every reason to be scared, but this is a time to rejoice about our baseball team. Look at the bright side -- when's the last time a Sox player was on the cover of SI, right? And the Curse of the Bambino and the SI Jinx will cancel each other out, right?
Whatever happens, one thing's for sure: Baseball was on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and dang it, that's the way it should be. It's March and we're talkin' baseball. Everything is right with the world. God bless baseball.
SEGMENT FROM THE "A-TEAM" SHOW, THURSDAY AFTERNOON, 3/23
(We hear the voices of Eddie Andelman and Dale Arnold)
-DA: On the line with us right now is Red Sox manager Jimy Williams. Jimy, this is Dale Arnold along with Eddie Andelman.
-JW: Hey guys.
-DA: Well, I guess you saw the cover of Sports Illustrated this week, so I'll make my first question relatively short, even though I usually like to make them about 2-3 minutes long each -- do you believe in jinxes, Jimy? (fake, obsequious laugh)
-JW: Nahhh... that stuff is for groundhogs and serial killers... especially if you're taking the milk out of the fridge every day and you can't stop to smell the cereal.
-DA: In all seriousness, you have to admit, it must be nice that SOME of these "experts" are taking you guys a little more seriously this season, wouldn't you say?
-JW: Nahhh... we don't get caught up in that... that's like a great dane trying to hump a poodle... you can't make something happen unless it just happens on its own.
-EA: Ahhhh, Jimy, ahhhhh, while I was reading the Sport Magazine article this morning, I was eating a French Crull-ah. Do you like French Crull-ahs?
-JW: Huh?
-EA: Ahhhh, you know, I like just about every kind of, ahhhh, donut, but ahhhhhh, I think French Crull-ahs are my favorite. Ahhhh, you'll always notice that, ahhhh, police officers order them, and, ahhhh.... nobody knows a good donut like the men in blue.
-JW: The funny thing about donuts is that they sit in your stomach for two weeks undigested... you end up sitting on the bowl looking like a werewolf waitin' for a full moon!
-EA: Jerry, ahhhh, while you're, ahhhh, on here, ahhhhh, I want to, ahhhh, apologize again for putting you down over the, ahhh, last few years. Clearly, ahhhh, I was wrong, and, ahhh, you're a terrific manager, right up there with the Tommy LaRussas and the Mike Torrez's.
-JW: Thank you very much, Eddie.
-DA: Jimy, I know you don't like criticizing specific players, and again, I'm going to make the introduction to this question as long as possible so our listeners can sense from my voice just how serious I am, and also I can't ask a question unless it's at least 30 seconds long... but were you a little upset with Michael Coleman last week when he bashed the front office?
-JW: No, not really... you take a pack of coyotes and they all might be moving in the same direction, but you know one or two of them will end up carrying a cheetah bone eventually.
-EA: Ahhh... what about Manny Cordoba? Ahhh... I like what I've seen from him so far... he's a big kid and, ahhh, he can hit and he's white ... ahhh, do you think there's, ahhh, any chance you can, ahhhh, work him into the lineup, ahhh, maybe in the place of Darrell Lewis or Chad Everett?
-JW: Absolutely... Marty's a professional hitter and he'll get the chance to play here... the best thing about this team is that we have a bunch of veteran guys who know you can't pull a pot of gold out of a Leprechaun's ass unless the Leprechaun bends over first.
-DA: You don't sound like manager of a team that might be jinxed, Jimy! (long, obsequious laughter).
OPENING PARAGRAPHS FROM KAREN GUREGIAN'S HERALD COLUMN, FRIDAY, 3/24
Sports Illustrated picked the Red Sox to win it all? Bad.
Very bad.
I do not usually believe in jinxes but I believe in this jinx because it comes true a lot.
Scary.
Bad things happen because of Sports Illustrated covers. I hope these things will not happen to the Sox. I was excited about them having a good season. Now I am not as excited. The Sox played well last year but they need to play better. We will see how they respond to this bad jinx over the next few months. This is like having a black cat walk in front of the team bus or a scary voodoo lady cursing them.
Very bad.
Not good.
I am frightened for the Red Sox. Hopefully Pedro's arm will not get hurt or Nomar will not hurt his back or something. This would all be bad, and Sports Illustrated would deserve all the blame if the Red Sox do not do well. It is a shame because everything was pointing to this being a very good year for the Red Sox. Now?
Bad. Very bad.
OPENING PARAGRAPHS FROM PETER GAMMONS' ESPN COLUMN, FRIDAY, 3/24
This Red Sox team doesn't believes in jinxes or curses. These guys think they're good. Yankee players this spring talk of how hard and close their ALCS series with the Red Sox turned out to be, and when Pedro Martinez says, "We didn't play our best and we didn't get any of the breaks," he speaks for everyone.
If Pedro can repeat his brilliance from '99, if Nomar and Ramon can stay healthy, if Carl Everett can handle the Boston media, if Trot Nixon and Carl Everett break through like the coaching staff expects, if they get lucky with either Brian Rose, Juan Pena or Sun Woo Kim, if John Valentin and Mike Stanley can bounce back from lackluster years, if Jose Offerman continues to improve at second base, if Derek Lowe and Rod Beck can hold down the bullpen, if Dan Duquette goes out an acquires a Brad Radke or a Sterling Hitchcock, if Troy O'Leary can have another big season, if Tim Wakefield can bounce back from a disastrous postseason, if Morgan Burkhart and Donnie Sadler are for real, if Rheal Cormier can continue to get lefties out, and if Jimy Williams continues to push all the right buttons... well, this is a team that could definitely contend in October.
SEGMENT FROM THE "BIG SHOW," FRIDAY AFTERNOON, 3/24
(We hear the voices of Glen Ordway, Fred Smerlas, Pete Sheppard and Dick Radatz)
-GLEN: Are right, Meat, what do else do we have for the 20/20?
-PETE: Well, Big O, Red Sox Nation continues to panic over the recent SI Jinx that was slapped on the Sox this week-.
-GLEN: Oh, please.
-PETE: Big O-
-GLEN: Lemme tell you someth-!
-PETE: They sho-
-GLEN: Lemme tell you someth-!
-PETE: If they-
-GLEN: Lemme tell you someth-!
-PETE: Hold on-.
-GLEN: Lemme tell you someth-!
-PETE: Wait, just-.
-GLEN: I'll tell you th-.
-PETE: Shouldn't th-
-GLEN: Lemme tell you something!!!!! People... need... to calm down. It's just... a maga...zine! It's just a magazine, right? Come on, people! Half of these guys on this team can't... even... read... english...
-DICK: When I was playing with the Sox in the 60's, nobody even read a newspaper. Sure, that was 40 years ago, but, uh...
-PETE (screaming): THIS JUST PROVES WHY RED SOX FANS STINK AND THE YANKEES RULE ALL!!! JINX!!! JINX!!!!!
-FRED: Pete, you need dhdgaganh fdhfdhfhds. Gdhdhdhn dhdhsha dhtryhdh unibrow dhdhdhdh all-you-can eat dhjdhdhd bfytkhlkhl dhsgsagahakj.
(All four guys laugh hysterically)
-GLEN: Fred, you have more important things to worry about... like your back hair!
-FRED: Come on Big O.... fgsfadx fgfgrgr hkhgkfkdj svcvdfefe hgkhkhkhk.
-PETE (screaming): I AM SKELETOR, SPAWN OF THE HELL BEAST! BOW DOWN TO ME AND PAY HOMAGE TO MY AWESOME RED POWER!
-GLEN: Look Fred, you're driving Pete crazy... he can't get a word in edgewise.
-FRED: He's just jealous fhfhdhdsh sahfhhjrjdkjm fjkfjriehjrjfnj.
-DICK: I remember one time when we were playing the Twins, I started Killebrew inside with a heater, then gave him the Uncle Charlie, than brushed him back on 0-2. That was the only jinx that anyone believed in back then.
-PETE (screaming): ARE YOU THREATENING ME, RADATZ? COME... FEEL THE POWER OF THE HELL BEAST! FEEL THE FIRE OF SKELETOR!!!!!!!!!
(We hear a big explosion)
-GLEN: Whoa! Pete just blew a ball of fire at Dick Radatz and reduced him to a ball of ashes! Dick Radatz just got cremated, folks!
-PETE (screaming): BURN! BURN! BURN MONSTER BURN!
-GLEN: Pete, instead of burning the Monster into smithereens, you should have concentrated on more important things.... like singing Fred's back hair!
-FRED: Come on, fhfhdhshav dgdgedgrg gkgkfkfdkd whshdhshshs again!!!
OPENING PARAGRAPHS FROM WILL MCDONOUGH'S GLOBE COLUMN, SATURDAY, 3/25
Ticket sales are up for the Red Sox almost 20% this season and the optimism around the Red Sox camp is higher than ever. These guys really think they have a chance to compete and they think it's funny that the fans and media around here are so worried about an SI Jinx. It just goes to show you how easily the fans can manipulated by the local media around here. The funny thing is, most of these guys think they're important and they can honestly affect the mood of the local scene. Well, I have a newsflash for the Shaughnessys, Ordways and Callahans out there. And here it is: I have chunks of guys like you in my stool.
This is my town. MY town.
OPENING PARAGRAPHS FROM MICHAEL HOLLEY'S GLOBE COLUMN, SUNDAY, 3/26
The Holley Lama is not a man who believes in jinxes, but I would be lying if I did not tell you that I was not superstitious. In fact, back when I was covering ML Carr's Celtics in 1997, the then-Celtics coach tried to claim that his team started playing poorly as soon as the Lama had been assigned to the Celtics beat by the paper you are reading today. To this, the Lama just laughed. Blaming me for a 15-67 season would be like Dr. Dre blaming Suge Knight because "The Aftermath" did not crack the top ten.
(Note to Dre: Nice job getting back to your roots with "Dre 2001." The Lama was very pleased. And adding Eminem and Eddie Griffin was a beautiful touch, brother.)
Anyway, we are talking about jinxes today because the weekly bible of bibles -- the corporate monolith also known as Sports Illustrated -- has decided to make our Boston Red Sox their "pick du jour" for the 2000 baseball season, which has everyone in Boston scurrying and running for cover as if you and I were watching a Japanese movie together and the fams were Japanese people and the SI cover was Godzilla. To this, the Lama says, "Why would you mess up a perfect spring training! Can't you let the Lama enjoy some positive karma, for once?"
Now... I do not know if I am the correct person to analyze jinxes, but I am almost positive that I heard someone tell me once that Sports Illustrated has a way with sports teams like Bobby Brady's tiki had a way with the Brady family in Hawaii, and I guess I am trying to say that I am hoping that Pedro Martinez doesn't get into a surfing accident or a tatarntula does not crawl down the back of Nomar Garciaparra's uniform, because that would be stranger than fiction, if you get my drift.
OPENING SEGMENT FROM BOB LOBEL'S "SPORTS FINAL" TV SHOW, SUNDAY NIGHT 3/27
(We see Lobel in a forum with Steve Burton, Upton Bell and Bob Ryan.)
-LOBEL: All right, the big story ... the SI Jinx! ... Sports Illustrated has picked ... THE RED SOX ... to win the World Series this year. Guys, what do we think?
-RYAN: Well, I think we would all agree that the panic around this region is-is-is an embarrassment and reflects badly on what everyone around here would agree is a t-t-t-terrific, terrific sports town and the whole thing makes me sick and I can't stand when everyone gets bent out of shape like this and I need to t-take a breath before I pass out.
-LOBEL: Upton, you've been a member of the local media here for over 50 years, and your toupee has been around even longer than that... do you believe in jinxes?
-BELL: Funny story, Bob... in 1972, when I was GM of the Pats, we took a wide receiver by the name of Phil McCracken in the 11th round of the draft, and he was actually killed by a voodoo cult that summer. Four months later, I was fired. And I haven't held a real job since. So, yes, I believe in jinxes.
-STEVE: Come on! That's just ridiculous! That's just ridiculous! Come on!
-BELL: What?
-STEVE: This whole jinx thing! It's ridiculous! I don't buy it at all! Don't come around here hawking that stuff to me because I'm not buying!
-LOBEL: Why not, Steve?
-STEVE: Look, if-if Boston Magazine put me on the cover and picked me to win the, uh, World Series of Sports Broadcasting this year, does that mean I would start screwing up on the air?? Come on guys!!!!!! Jeez! Really!
-LOBEL: Well, that would never happen, for two reasons: 1) There IS no World Series of Broadcasting, and 2) If there was a World Series of Broadcasting, you'd lose a seven game series to George Smith in the first round.
-STEVE: Now, I resent that! I just resent that! You asked me to come on here and start screaming at everyone so people would take me a little more seriously and I did that for you!!!!
-LOBEL: Steve, just shut up.
-STEVE: Okay. Sorry.
-RYAN: I can't believe I'm agreeing with such a moron, but I think Steve's right. Everyone around here IS getting too carried away... it's just a magazine cover, that's it. Look, part of the problem here is that everyone gets too wrapped up in curses and jinxes and overlooks the most important factor -- wins and losses. And if this team is winning in October, everyone will forget about the fact that Sports Illustrated stuck them on the cover.
-STEVE: But what if they're LOSING in October? Huh? What then? And what if they keep losing well into November and December? What then?
-RYAN: November and December? (turning to Lobel) Where did you find this guy?
-UPTON: If any team COULD lose in November and December, it's the Red Sox.
-STEVE: Aw, come on! Come on!
-RYAN: All we're doing is catering to what Sports Illustrated wanted when they chose the Sox this week -- they knew everyone here would go into a tizzy. And they knew the media would beat this thing into the ground. And that's exactly what happened. By the way, we're getting paid in cash tonight for our appearance, right? No checks. That WAS the agreement, right?
-BOB: Interesting debate... we'll be back after this as we tackle the one-month anniversary of the McSorley incident. Don't go away.
**END**
One of my favorite BSG columns because of the WEEI stuff and the Sports Final section. The one part I butchered was the Will McDonough section, which should have been funnier (not sure what I was going for there).
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RANTING AND RAVING
With S.I. picking the Red Sox to win the 2000 World Series, how will local sports media members react? SG has a sneak preview!
by Bill Simmons
In case you missed it, Sports Illustrated stuck Pedro Martinez on this week's cover with the headline "Why the Red Sox Will Win the World Series," a development which ripped through an panic-stricken New England area with the deadly efficiency of the ebola virus. Since the Boston sports media thrives on torturing local fans and ruining their collective will to live, you can only guess what might happen in print and on the local airwaves now that the dreaded SI Jinx has joined forces with the Curse of the Bambino.
In fact, you can almost predict what will happen... let's take a look, shall we? Here's what you might be reading/hearing/seeing over the next few days:
OPENING PARAGRAPHS OF THE NEXT DAN SHAUGHNESSY COLUMN, THURSDAY, MARCH 22
Your mother-in-law just announced she's moving in for a few weeks. Your accountant just remembered that he forgot to file your tax forms. Your daughter just came home from college with a tongue piercing and a boyfriend named Jamaal X. And now, Sports Illustrated has slapped the dreaded SI Jinx on Red Sox Nation.
You can bet the Fellowship of the Miserable will be in full-force today. Optimism in New England was running especially high this spring after the Sox rallied back against Cleveland last October and took the Yankees to five tough games. With Pedro and Nomar back, Ramon healthy and Nixon and Varitek ready for breakthrough seasons, Sox fans were actually mulling "This could be the year" thoughts. There was a surprising feeling of optimism surfacing around Red Sox camp, as the ghosts of Bill Buckner, Denny Galehouse, Bucky Dent, Luis Aparicio, Larry Andersen, Enos Slaughter and the Bambino himself seemed to have disappeared to haunt some other wretched franchise.
Now? All those ghosts are back in full-force. The SI Jinx has joined forces with the Curse of the Bambino. Get ready for another disappointing season, Sox fans. It might be a new millennium, but this one will be crueler than the last. Amen.
SEGMENT FROM THE "DENNIS AND CALLAHAN" SHOW, THURSDAY MORNING, 3/23
-JD: Well, Gerry, let's talk about this SI Jinx and the Red Sox. SPORTS ILLUSTATED has made the Red Sox their World Series Pick this year.
-GC: (audible sneering sound, followed by a cackle)
-JD: The cover shows PEDRO MARTINEZ holding a baseball with the caption, "Why the Red Sox will win the World Series (reason #1: Pedro Martinez)." As you can guess, our DUMP LINE is lighting up, so call in now at 555-Dump so you can sound like a DRUNKEN RETARD and we can make fun of you on the air.
-GC: Yeah, this should be great... you can hear the screams from Sox fans... I love when they get riled up. Losers. Die, all of you.
-JD: The dreaded SI JINX strikes again! Didn't you used to work there, Gerry?
-GC: I left because they turned down my idea for a weekly column: "Why I Hate Sports." Hey, lemme see that magazine... (pause) How come this has Bob Kraft's address on it? You steal this from the Kraft house?
-JD: No, I was over there for dinner last night and they let me borrow a copy.
-GC: Did you tell them we're in a movie?
-JD: I did, I did. In case you haven't heard, Gerry and I are in the new FARRELLY BROTHERS movie. We play two prison guards and we were just DELIGHTED to be involved.
-GC: You guys are gonna love this movie. I don't like anything, but I loved the script. And Lenny Clarke's in it.
-JD: Is he GREAT? Is he FUNNY? Is he SOMETHIN' ELSE?
-GC: He's great. The best. We love Lenny.
-JD: We're playing golf with him today.
-GC: I know, I know... you shouldn't mention that on the air though because everyone will be jealous. Remember, our listeners might not think we're normal guys because we make a combined half million bucks a year, we both have wives and kids, we play golf every day and we haven't been in a sports bar in ten years.
-JD: Right, right... let's talk about guy talk stuff... um...
-GC: How 'bout that Sopranos show last night?
-JD: Yeah. GREAT show. And how bout the next "Sex On a Beach" show?
-GC: Do those lifeguards have huge jugs or what?
-JD: Enormous! I'd love to drink beer and put my head between those!
-GC: Hi-yo!!!!!!!!!!!!
-JD: See, we're just two guys, talking just like normal guys would!
OPENING PARAGRAPHS FROM STEVE BUCKLEY'S HERALD COLUMN, THURSDAY, 3/23
Hey Red Sox Nation, you're not scared of a stupid jinx, are you???
Remember folks, they play the game on the field, not on the cover of a national magazine. You think Pedro and Ramon care what SI has to say? You think a veteran with a World Series ring like Bret Saberhagen cares about a jinx? You think Rich Garces can even read?
Listen, you have every reason to be scared, but this is a time to rejoice about our baseball team. Look at the bright side -- when's the last time a Sox player was on the cover of SI, right? And the Curse of the Bambino and the SI Jinx will cancel each other out, right?
Whatever happens, one thing's for sure: Baseball was on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and dang it, that's the way it should be. It's March and we're talkin' baseball. Everything is right with the world. God bless baseball.
SEGMENT FROM THE "A-TEAM" SHOW, THURSDAY AFTERNOON, 3/23
(We hear the voices of Eddie Andelman and Dale Arnold)
-DA: On the line with us right now is Red Sox manager Jimy Williams. Jimy, this is Dale Arnold along with Eddie Andelman.
-JW: Hey guys.
-DA: Well, I guess you saw the cover of Sports Illustrated this week, so I'll make my first question relatively short, even though I usually like to make them about 2-3 minutes long each -- do you believe in jinxes, Jimy? (fake, obsequious laugh)
-JW: Nahhh... that stuff is for groundhogs and serial killers... especially if you're taking the milk out of the fridge every day and you can't stop to smell the cereal.
-DA: In all seriousness, you have to admit, it must be nice that SOME of these "experts" are taking you guys a little more seriously this season, wouldn't you say?
-JW: Nahhh... we don't get caught up in that... that's like a great dane trying to hump a poodle... you can't make something happen unless it just happens on its own.
-EA: Ahhhh, Jimy, ahhhhh, while I was reading the Sport Magazine article this morning, I was eating a French Crull-ah. Do you like French Crull-ahs?
-JW: Huh?
-EA: Ahhhh, you know, I like just about every kind of, ahhhh, donut, but ahhhhhh, I think French Crull-ahs are my favorite. Ahhhh, you'll always notice that, ahhhh, police officers order them, and, ahhhh.... nobody knows a good donut like the men in blue.
-JW: The funny thing about donuts is that they sit in your stomach for two weeks undigested... you end up sitting on the bowl looking like a werewolf waitin' for a full moon!
-EA: Jerry, ahhhh, while you're, ahhhh, on here, ahhhhh, I want to, ahhhh, apologize again for putting you down over the, ahhh, last few years. Clearly, ahhhh, I was wrong, and, ahhh, you're a terrific manager, right up there with the Tommy LaRussas and the Mike Torrez's.
-JW: Thank you very much, Eddie.
-DA: Jimy, I know you don't like criticizing specific players, and again, I'm going to make the introduction to this question as long as possible so our listeners can sense from my voice just how serious I am, and also I can't ask a question unless it's at least 30 seconds long... but were you a little upset with Michael Coleman last week when he bashed the front office?
-JW: No, not really... you take a pack of coyotes and they all might be moving in the same direction, but you know one or two of them will end up carrying a cheetah bone eventually.
-EA: Ahhh... what about Manny Cordoba? Ahhh... I like what I've seen from him so far... he's a big kid and, ahhh, he can hit and he's white ... ahhh, do you think there's, ahhh, any chance you can, ahhhh, work him into the lineup, ahhh, maybe in the place of Darrell Lewis or Chad Everett?
-JW: Absolutely... Marty's a professional hitter and he'll get the chance to play here... the best thing about this team is that we have a bunch of veteran guys who know you can't pull a pot of gold out of a Leprechaun's ass unless the Leprechaun bends over first.
-DA: You don't sound like manager of a team that might be jinxed, Jimy! (long, obsequious laughter).
OPENING PARAGRAPHS FROM KAREN GUREGIAN'S HERALD COLUMN, FRIDAY, 3/24
Sports Illustrated picked the Red Sox to win it all? Bad.
Very bad.
I do not usually believe in jinxes but I believe in this jinx because it comes true a lot.
Scary.
Bad things happen because of Sports Illustrated covers. I hope these things will not happen to the Sox. I was excited about them having a good season. Now I am not as excited. The Sox played well last year but they need to play better. We will see how they respond to this bad jinx over the next few months. This is like having a black cat walk in front of the team bus or a scary voodoo lady cursing them.
Very bad.
Not good.
I am frightened for the Red Sox. Hopefully Pedro's arm will not get hurt or Nomar will not hurt his back or something. This would all be bad, and Sports Illustrated would deserve all the blame if the Red Sox do not do well. It is a shame because everything was pointing to this being a very good year for the Red Sox. Now?
Bad. Very bad.
OPENING PARAGRAPHS FROM PETER GAMMONS' ESPN COLUMN, FRIDAY, 3/24
This Red Sox team doesn't believes in jinxes or curses. These guys think they're good. Yankee players this spring talk of how hard and close their ALCS series with the Red Sox turned out to be, and when Pedro Martinez says, "We didn't play our best and we didn't get any of the breaks," he speaks for everyone.
If Pedro can repeat his brilliance from '99, if Nomar and Ramon can stay healthy, if Carl Everett can handle the Boston media, if Trot Nixon and Carl Everett break through like the coaching staff expects, if they get lucky with either Brian Rose, Juan Pena or Sun Woo Kim, if John Valentin and Mike Stanley can bounce back from lackluster years, if Jose Offerman continues to improve at second base, if Derek Lowe and Rod Beck can hold down the bullpen, if Dan Duquette goes out an acquires a Brad Radke or a Sterling Hitchcock, if Troy O'Leary can have another big season, if Tim Wakefield can bounce back from a disastrous postseason, if Morgan Burkhart and Donnie Sadler are for real, if Rheal Cormier can continue to get lefties out, and if Jimy Williams continues to push all the right buttons... well, this is a team that could definitely contend in October.
SEGMENT FROM THE "BIG SHOW," FRIDAY AFTERNOON, 3/24
(We hear the voices of Glen Ordway, Fred Smerlas, Pete Sheppard and Dick Radatz)
-GLEN: Are right, Meat, what do else do we have for the 20/20?
-PETE: Well, Big O, Red Sox Nation continues to panic over the recent SI Jinx that was slapped on the Sox this week-.
-GLEN: Oh, please.
-PETE: Big O-
-GLEN: Lemme tell you someth-!
-PETE: They sho-
-GLEN: Lemme tell you someth-!
-PETE: If they-
-GLEN: Lemme tell you someth-!
-PETE: Hold on-.
-GLEN: Lemme tell you someth-!
-PETE: Wait, just-.
-GLEN: I'll tell you th-.
-PETE: Shouldn't th-
-GLEN: Lemme tell you something!!!!! People... need... to calm down. It's just... a maga...zine! It's just a magazine, right? Come on, people! Half of these guys on this team can't... even... read... english...
-DICK: When I was playing with the Sox in the 60's, nobody even read a newspaper. Sure, that was 40 years ago, but, uh...
-PETE (screaming): THIS JUST PROVES WHY RED SOX FANS STINK AND THE YANKEES RULE ALL!!! JINX!!! JINX!!!!!
-FRED: Pete, you need dhdgaganh fdhfdhfhds. Gdhdhdhn dhdhsha dhtryhdh unibrow dhdhdhdh all-you-can eat dhjdhdhd bfytkhlkhl dhsgsagahakj.
(All four guys laugh hysterically)
-GLEN: Fred, you have more important things to worry about... like your back hair!
-FRED: Come on Big O.... fgsfadx fgfgrgr hkhgkfkdj svcvdfefe hgkhkhkhk.
-PETE (screaming): I AM SKELETOR, SPAWN OF THE HELL BEAST! BOW DOWN TO ME AND PAY HOMAGE TO MY AWESOME RED POWER!
-GLEN: Look Fred, you're driving Pete crazy... he can't get a word in edgewise.
-FRED: He's just jealous fhfhdhdsh sahfhhjrjdkjm fjkfjriehjrjfnj.
-DICK: I remember one time when we were playing the Twins, I started Killebrew inside with a heater, then gave him the Uncle Charlie, than brushed him back on 0-2. That was the only jinx that anyone believed in back then.
-PETE (screaming): ARE YOU THREATENING ME, RADATZ? COME... FEEL THE POWER OF THE HELL BEAST! FEEL THE FIRE OF SKELETOR!!!!!!!!!
(We hear a big explosion)
-GLEN: Whoa! Pete just blew a ball of fire at Dick Radatz and reduced him to a ball of ashes! Dick Radatz just got cremated, folks!
-PETE (screaming): BURN! BURN! BURN MONSTER BURN!
-GLEN: Pete, instead of burning the Monster into smithereens, you should have concentrated on more important things.... like singing Fred's back hair!
-FRED: Come on, fhfhdhshav dgdgedgrg gkgkfkfdkd whshdhshshs again!!!
OPENING PARAGRAPHS FROM WILL MCDONOUGH'S GLOBE COLUMN, SATURDAY, 3/25
Ticket sales are up for the Red Sox almost 20% this season and the optimism around the Red Sox camp is higher than ever. These guys really think they have a chance to compete and they think it's funny that the fans and media around here are so worried about an SI Jinx. It just goes to show you how easily the fans can manipulated by the local media around here. The funny thing is, most of these guys think they're important and they can honestly affect the mood of the local scene. Well, I have a newsflash for the Shaughnessys, Ordways and Callahans out there. And here it is: I have chunks of guys like you in my stool.
This is my town. MY town.
OPENING PARAGRAPHS FROM MICHAEL HOLLEY'S GLOBE COLUMN, SUNDAY, 3/26
The Holley Lama is not a man who believes in jinxes, but I would be lying if I did not tell you that I was not superstitious. In fact, back when I was covering ML Carr's Celtics in 1997, the then-Celtics coach tried to claim that his team started playing poorly as soon as the Lama had been assigned to the Celtics beat by the paper you are reading today. To this, the Lama just laughed. Blaming me for a 15-67 season would be like Dr. Dre blaming Suge Knight because "The Aftermath" did not crack the top ten.
(Note to Dre: Nice job getting back to your roots with "Dre 2001." The Lama was very pleased. And adding Eminem and Eddie Griffin was a beautiful touch, brother.)
Anyway, we are talking about jinxes today because the weekly bible of bibles -- the corporate monolith also known as Sports Illustrated -- has decided to make our Boston Red Sox their "pick du jour" for the 2000 baseball season, which has everyone in Boston scurrying and running for cover as if you and I were watching a Japanese movie together and the fams were Japanese people and the SI cover was Godzilla. To this, the Lama says, "Why would you mess up a perfect spring training! Can't you let the Lama enjoy some positive karma, for once?"
Now... I do not know if I am the correct person to analyze jinxes, but I am almost positive that I heard someone tell me once that Sports Illustrated has a way with sports teams like Bobby Brady's tiki had a way with the Brady family in Hawaii, and I guess I am trying to say that I am hoping that Pedro Martinez doesn't get into a surfing accident or a tatarntula does not crawl down the back of Nomar Garciaparra's uniform, because that would be stranger than fiction, if you get my drift.
OPENING SEGMENT FROM BOB LOBEL'S "SPORTS FINAL" TV SHOW, SUNDAY NIGHT 3/27
(We see Lobel in a forum with Steve Burton, Upton Bell and Bob Ryan.)
-LOBEL: All right, the big story ... the SI Jinx! ... Sports Illustrated has picked ... THE RED SOX ... to win the World Series this year. Guys, what do we think?
-RYAN: Well, I think we would all agree that the panic around this region is-is-is an embarrassment and reflects badly on what everyone around here would agree is a t-t-t-terrific, terrific sports town and the whole thing makes me sick and I can't stand when everyone gets bent out of shape like this and I need to t-take a breath before I pass out.
-LOBEL: Upton, you've been a member of the local media here for over 50 years, and your toupee has been around even longer than that... do you believe in jinxes?
-BELL: Funny story, Bob... in 1972, when I was GM of the Pats, we took a wide receiver by the name of Phil McCracken in the 11th round of the draft, and he was actually killed by a voodoo cult that summer. Four months later, I was fired. And I haven't held a real job since. So, yes, I believe in jinxes.
-STEVE: Come on! That's just ridiculous! That's just ridiculous! Come on!
-BELL: What?
-STEVE: This whole jinx thing! It's ridiculous! I don't buy it at all! Don't come around here hawking that stuff to me because I'm not buying!
-LOBEL: Why not, Steve?
-STEVE: Look, if-if Boston Magazine put me on the cover and picked me to win the, uh, World Series of Sports Broadcasting this year, does that mean I would start screwing up on the air?? Come on guys!!!!!! Jeez! Really!
-LOBEL: Well, that would never happen, for two reasons: 1) There IS no World Series of Broadcasting, and 2) If there was a World Series of Broadcasting, you'd lose a seven game series to George Smith in the first round.
-STEVE: Now, I resent that! I just resent that! You asked me to come on here and start screaming at everyone so people would take me a little more seriously and I did that for you!!!!
-LOBEL: Steve, just shut up.
-STEVE: Okay. Sorry.
-RYAN: I can't believe I'm agreeing with such a moron, but I think Steve's right. Everyone around here IS getting too carried away... it's just a magazine cover, that's it. Look, part of the problem here is that everyone gets too wrapped up in curses and jinxes and overlooks the most important factor -- wins and losses. And if this team is winning in October, everyone will forget about the fact that Sports Illustrated stuck them on the cover.
-STEVE: But what if they're LOSING in October? Huh? What then? And what if they keep losing well into November and December? What then?
-RYAN: November and December? (turning to Lobel) Where did you find this guy?
-UPTON: If any team COULD lose in November and December, it's the Red Sox.
-STEVE: Aw, come on! Come on!
-RYAN: All we're doing is catering to what Sports Illustrated wanted when they chose the Sox this week -- they knew everyone here would go into a tizzy. And they knew the media would beat this thing into the ground. And that's exactly what happened. By the way, we're getting paid in cash tonight for our appearance, right? No checks. That WAS the agreement, right?
-BOB: Interesting debate... we'll be back after this as we tackle the one-month anniversary of the McSorley incident. Don't go away.
**END**
June 14, 2000 - Real-Time Diary of Pedro-Roger III
I had been writing "running diaries" ever since the BSG site launched in May of '97; my third column ever was a running diary of the '97 NBA Draft. This particular Yankees-Red Sox game took place in the afternoon, so for my readers trapped at work, I decided to keep a "real-time running diary" in which I posted every 25-30 minutes as the game was happening. I would have been posting even more quickly than that, but it was a pain in the ass to publish things on the Web in 2000. (We even had technical difficulties near the end of this piece, as you will see.) These days, I guess this column would be called a "live blog." Now I'm wondering if this was the first one of its kind, or at least one of the first. Can anyone top June 14, 2000? By the way, this wasn't the greatest column so don't get your hopes up. Look out for a dated "Gladiator" reference, as well as my insistence that Trot Nixon's name be merged into one name (something I had been trying to get going at the time) and that Trot shouldn't be traded straight-up for a guy who hit 64 homers the following season.
**
**
PEDRO-ROGER III
SG's real-time running diary, updated every 30 minutes
by Bill Simmons
1:00 -- We're live at the Sports Guy Mansion for "Pedro-Roger III: The Battle of Good Against Evil!" I'm playing the role of "Guy who's kicking himself right now" ... last week I turned down box seats for today's game (courtesy of my Uncle Rick) because I didn't feel like driving four hours to see Pete Schourek pitch. And then the rain intervened and, well, I'm an idiot.
Anyway, we're joined today by Channel 25's Jerry Remy and Sean McDonough, as well as a bottle of Mountain Dew and two pieces of stale Papa Gino's pizza. We'll be making Internet history today: the first streaming "Ramblings Diary" column of all-time. Every 30 minutes, I'll be posting, typos and all. You can feel the tension in the air.
1:01 -- Fox starts off with the fight music from Rocky (the first Creed-Balboa fight) and a Pedro-Roger montage from their first two games. I have goosebumps on my goosebumps.
1:05 -- Remy warns us to watch out for Clemens and Trotnixon, saying, "If he comes out and hits him, this game could get ugly." Speaking of ugly, what's going on with Jerry's hair? Reader MrNoun@aol.com put it best: "Jerry Remy's haircut really disturbs me. I mean, REALLY disturbs me. He's got kind of a Hitler thing going there. I keep waiting for him to break into a rousing chorus of Deutschland Uber Alles."
1:10 -- Butch Stearns with a feature on Trotnixon's Memorial Day homer. Trotnixon says that when Clemens yelled at him, there was a "flame that went thru my body... that flame started building... with intensity."
(I will have my vengeance. Whether in this life or the next, I will have my vengeance.)
1:12 -- I love Trotnixon. How could anyone want to trade this guy for Sammy Sosa? He's untouchable in my book. I'm not kidding. Certain players have to be judged beyond their stats -- he's one of them. I won't even argue about this.
1:16 -- McDonough reads off the Sox lineup and tells us "The struggling Troy O'Leary has been given the day off again."
(Struggling? I was thinking more along the lines of "floundering" or "drowning.")
1:18 -- R & M list all the reasons why New York fans hate Roger. Everyone hates Roger. This should be a new CBS show... "Everyone Hates Roger," starring John Goodman as Roger, the cross-dresser from "Con Air" as Ricky Ledee and Ruthie from "Real World Hawaii" as Bernie Williams.
1:19 -- Speaking of the "Real World," how 'bout the new New Orleans cast? How much does the Phillipino-black chick look like Charles Barkley in drag? And will you ever get used to seeing two guys kiss in a hottub? I sure won't.
(By the way, after I finish this column I'm moving down to New Orleans to stalk Kelly the Blonde Chick. And yes, we're killing time here because Roger is three minutes late showing up to the mound, the lazy fat hick. I'm not making this up. The game started and Roger is nowhere to be seen. The mound is empty. Very bizarre. Maybe he was abducted by a drunken Dennis Eckersley.)
1:20 -- Raise your hand if you're enjoying the "Jose Offerman's playing 1B and leading off" Era.
1:22 -- One-out single for the utterly and completely rejuvenated Jeff Frye.
(There's something very Josh Baskin-esque about Frye right now... I keep waiting to read about the time he wished for the second base job after putting 25 cents into an unplugged Zoltar machine.)
1:25 -- Trotnixon works an 0-2 count into a walk. Clemens looks like crap and Remy's downing his leg kick. My nipples are ROCK-hard right now.
1:26 -- Nomar walks on four awful-looking pitches. Roger's all out of whack and his leg kick looks worse than Ann Miller's right now, and she's 100 years old. Remy can't stop talking about it. Nobody loves analyzing pitcher mechanics more than Jerry.
1:30 -- Everett pops up with the bases loaded... then Daubach works a full count and pops out. Clemens wiggles out of the inning (like the snake he is).
1:34 -- Here comes Pedro! As WEEI's Dale Arnold said this morning, "You have to feel pretty doggone good when you have Pedro going today for first place." Dale Arnold is definitely the only guy who still says the word "doggone."
(Speaking of WEEI could someone tell Eddie Andelman that it's "Juan Gonzalez," not "Juan Gonzalves"? What an embarrassment he is.)
1:36 -- Ramiro Mendoza's warming up in the bullpen!!! Remy wonders if something's physically wrong with Clemens. Yeah, something's wrong with his scrotum.
1:37 -- Knoblauch leads off with a double -- there goes the no-hitter! Pedro was only 27 outs away. R & M think Pedro looks stiff and they think his delivery looks off.
1:42 -- Pedro whiffs Jeter, loads the bases on a BB and a HBP and strikes out Tino on three pitches. Now Posada's up as Fox jinxes Pedro by showing a graphic of his 22 2/3 scoreless inning streak. Boooooo.
1:47 -- Pedro gets hosed on strike three and walks in a run. 1-0, Yanks. Pedro's pissed about the call. Blame Fox on that one. Thankfully Ricky Ledee is up -- he graciously agrees to pop out. Inning over.
1:53 -- As my buddy Camp would say, "Un-BEEEEEEE-lievable!!!!!!!' Clemens just left the game with a "strained right groin" and Ramiro Mendoza is on the mound and ready to pull an Dave Burba. God, Clemens is the worst, isn't he? Can menstrual cramps really bother your groin that much?
1:54 -- I'm just bummed out. Only Clemens can still let down Red Sox fans even four years after he left the team.
1:56 -- The Sox go down meekly in the second. Can Fox cue up the Rocky music again or something?
2:00 -- More news on Roger: Butch Stearns reports that Roger strained his groin before the game when he saw a five-dollar bill on the floor of the clubhouse and dove down to pick it up.
2:05 -- R & M discuss the Sosa hunt as Pedro goes 1-2-3 in the second, including a K of Knoblauch to end the inning. Three K's for Pedro.
(My take on Sosa: I'd give up Stenson, Lomasney and two pitching prospects in a heartbeat. The goal should be to improve the current team without taking one of the key cogs away... you know, like Trotnixon.)
2:08 -- Hey, if the Sox traded for Sammy, do you think Jimy Williams would meet with him like Duke meeting Rocky before the Drago fight in Rocky 4 and tell him, "You know, Sammy, when Troy O'Leary died, a part of me died too. But now you're the one. You're the one who's gonna make sure Troy's death didn't happen for nothing... you know what you gotta do... so do it. DO IT!"
2:11 -- Offie's on first with no outs. I'm still thinking about the Sosa trade. It's too bad life isn't like "Triple Play 2001" on the Sony PlayStation... we could trade Darren Lewis straight-up for Sammy and it would only cost us 200 trade points. Now THAT's a good deal.
2:13 -- Mendoza's eating up the Sox -- three broken bats, looks dominant, just like he did last year against us. There isn't a Red Sox fan alive who wouldn't want Roger in there right now over Ramiro Mendoza. This is Dave Burba all over again (from Game 2 of the Indians series in '98, when Gooden was thrown out).
2:17 -- Hey, do you think Clemens found out he was going against Pedro last night and sat in the dugout trying to think of fake injuries so he could weasel out of today's game? I'll say my back went out... nahh... I used that one last year in Game Three of the ALCS... I'll say my elbow hurts... nahhh, they'll do an MRI on it and see right thru me... WAIT, I know... I'll say I strained my groin when I was warming up! Yeah! That's what I'll do!
2:19 -- Jeter K's for the second time to lead off the third. K K K K.
2:23 -- For some reason, McDonough remembers the time designer Joseph Abboud called Derek Jeter "Derek Jetter." This is funny on about 19 different levels. Still doesn't beat the time the Sports Gal called Jeter "Keith Jeter" during the ALCS next year, though.
2:25 -- Three up, three down for the Yanks. Pedro is ON.
2:26 -- You know that anti-smoking commercial with that bald guy talking about his wife dying of lung cancer? Does anyone else have nightmares about that guy? It's the first anti-smoking commercial that actually makes you afraid to watch TV, too.
2:27 -- SM: "In case you missed it, Roger Clemens left this game after the first inning because of a blocked ovary."
2:32 -- All bias aside, the chant "YAN-KEES SUCK! YAN-KEES SUCK!" just sounds better than "BOS-TON SUCKS! BOS-TON SUCKS!" The second chant just sounds like a reach. Typical of New Yorkers to take something good from someone else and ruin it completely.
2:36 -- Wilton Veras up with two outs in the fourth and runners on 2nd and 1st... you can feel the strikeout coming here. It's like when you're in the car with someone and they let one fly and there's that interminable five-second waiting period before the whole car starts to smell. That's what I feel like right now.
2:38 -- I was wrong... Veras grounded out. I wonder what Ed Sprague would have done there.
2:39 -- There's just something disorienting about Dunkin Donuts' ads for the "Nomar Summer Sipper." COME GET YOUR NOMAR SUMMER SIPPER RIGHT NOW!!!" Um... no thanks... I have a girlfriend.
2:42 -- Three up, three down for Pedro. He's thrown 63 pitches, given up four hits, walked one, hit one batter, and struck out four. He also healed Mel Stottlemyre and parted the center field bleachers.
2:48 -- SM says that the latest rumor going around has the Sox interested in Houston's Ken Caminiti. Yes, please. He's one of those gritty/gutty/unshaven guys who you love when they're on your team.
2:52 -- A two-out "Don't trade me" single by Trotnixon off Tino's glove, followed by a single off Brosius' glove by the Nomar Summer Sipper. First and second, one out, top of the fifth. Here comes Carl Everett... you can feel it, baby... come on... mama needs a new pair of shoes...
2:54 -- Ugh... Everett strikes out to end the inning. He's left five runners on base today. I'd be swearing and throwing things right now if Carl Everett wasn't involved.
2:58 -- Brosius doubles to the gap with one out, only the second hard-hit ball off Pedro today. Now Knoblauch's up and looks ready for one of those 19-pitch at-bats... uh-oh...
3:02 -- Strike three! On a nine-pitch at-bat. Sit down, Chuck. Then Pedro gets Jeter on a grounder to end the inning and brings Lou Gehrig back to life for good measure.
3:07 -- Yikes! One of my readers just alerted me that ESPN Classic showed the '78 Playoff Game from 1-to-3. Thank God I missed that... they would have had to turn off the no-smoking sign in the SG Mansion and I would've ended up having nightmares about the bald guy from the anti-smoking commercial tonight.
3:12 -- Two more Sox batters stranded as Mendoza gets Offerman out on a weak grounder with runners on first and second. This game is officially giving me blueballs.
3:15 -- "My wife Marie used to smoke. After she got diagnosed with cancer, she used to smoke even more. I used to light her cigarettes for her. The lighter had a happy-face on it. A happy-face."
(AHHH! AHHHH! AHHHH! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!! HE'S ON AGAIN!!!!)
3:17 -- I'm not even exaggerating this... Carl Everett almost made the greatest catch of all-time on the centerfield warning track on Paul O'Neill. Missed it by about two inches.. Six hits for the Yanks. Man on second, nobody out. Bottom of the sixth. Bernie's up.
3:23 -- Pedro gets out of the inning with a special assist from Rickey Ledee -- K -- who hasn't looked this overmatched since John Malkovich ordered him around in "Con Air." It looks like Pedro is still angry at the home plate ump -- he keeps doing the long stare thing every time he walks off the mound. Always enjoyable.
(After six innings, it's 1-0, Yanks.)
3:30 -- No-mahhhhhhhhhh! A two-out homer off Ricky Ledee's glove into the LF stands! No-Mahhhhh! Did you enjoy the Nomar Summer Sipper, Ricky? It's a 1-1 game!
3:33 -- Everett singles and takes second when Ledee over-runs the ball. You wanna talk about weak links... you gotta start with Ricky Ledee. It's funny how a baseball team's weakest spots always seem to rear their ugly heads in big games.
3:35 -- The Sox knock out Mendoza and put two runners on with two outs. By the way, you knew this running diary thing would have at least one hitch -- I think all the reader hits at the same time shut the DCB server down. Seriously. I can't make any changes. Help...
3:39 -- Lewis grounds out to end the inning against some guy named Grimsley. I'm so flustered by the IP tool right now that I think I feel a seizure coming on... uh-oh..
(Errjjejjehg eerrrrrrrrv AHHHHHHHH!!!! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHH!!!!)
3:41 -- Remember when I wrote that "It's funny how a baseball team's weakest spots always seem to rear their ugly heads in big games"? Well, Tim Wakefield's in for Pedro. Hold onto your seats...
(Final stats on Pedro: six innings, 101 pitches, six hits, one run, two W's, one HBP, seven K's, two healings, one CF bleacher parting, one Yankee legend brought back to life, another battle won over the fat traitor hick.)
3:45 -- Wow! Trot Nixon almost made a phenomenal catch off Shane Spencer to start off the bottom of the seventh... a diving lunge that almost left him with a broken neck. This game has had three of the greatest near-catches of all-time; there have also been two infield hits that bounced off someone's glove. I'm not sure what this means.
3:49 -- With one out and a runner on third, Wakefield gets Knoblauch (K) and Jeter (line drive to Frye) to end the inning. What a game! Not as great as the one last month, but just as classic in a bizarre, mesmerizing "HBO documentary on hookers & pimps" kinda way.
3:51 -- Man, I was going great until the DCB server went down. I feel like I was tossing a two-hitter... then a fan ran on the field and caused a ten-minute delay... and now I can't get my rhythm back.
3:53 -- Reader LGross@(work).com thinks the Clemens injury was eerily reminscent of the scene in Back to School when Chaz (played by the villainous William Zabka) faked a leg injury at the diving meet and Thornton Mellon had to come in and do the Triple Lindy. I think it resembles the scene in Caddyshack when Rodney Dangerfield hit the drive and it bounced back and hit his arm and he waited for a few seconds and then shouted out, "Ooooh, my arm! I think it's broken!" The truth probably lies somewhere in between. Either way, the Dangerfield factor is definitely involved.
3:57 -- Before we forget, I just wanted to say that it was nice of the idiot Yankee fans to avoid jumping face-first on the foul ball screen today.
4:00 -- Jose Offerman just got thrown out of the game for arguing a double-play call from the last inning that he wasn't even involved in (Veras was called out at second when he was CLEARLY safe). SM says sardonically, "Another shaky call in a Sox-Yanks game where the Red Sox got the short end of the stick."
(Nobody twists the knife quite like Sean McDonough. He just doesn't care.)
4:05 -- DAMMMMMMMMITTTTTTT! Wakefield just gave up a two-out bomb to Tino into the RF bleachers. Yankees 2, Sox 1. This is what happens when you give Pedro an extra day of rest and start Brian Rose and use up your bullpen on Tuesday night instead of starting Pedro on Wednesday and Pete Schourek on Wednesday... you end up with Tim Wakefield pitching to Tino Martinez in the eighth inning of a tie game. And where the hell was Rheal Cormier?
(Note: Saying Wakefield is good to have on a staff because he eats innings is like saying Michael Gee is good to have on your sportswriting staff because he "eats up pages.")
4:10 -- There's nothing worse than when the Sox are on the road and the home team breaks up the tie with a go-ahead homer in the bottom of the eighth. The ultimate kick in the crotch. All of the sudden it's the top of the ninth and you're battling against someone like Mariano Rivera.
4:12 -- Just stomped angrily around the house for a couple of minutes.
4:14 -- Jeff Frye leads off the top of the ninth with a line-drive single off the Zoltar machine. As Jerry Trupiano would say, the tying run is on base with NOOOOOOOOO-body out.
4:15 -- Boom-boom KEEHH! Boom-boom KEEHH! Boom-boom KEEHH!
4:17 -- Nixon strikes out on a full count... the hit-and-run's on... Frye gets thrown out at second. I will now light myself on fire.
(Let the record show that strike three was the exact same pitch that was called "ball four" to Posada in the first inning. It's just a shame that the Yankees can't ever win fair and square.)
4:18 -- Rivera snares a Nomar grounder and throws him out to end the game. Final score: Yankees 2, Sox 1. I wish I had a dog to kick. Or a groin.
4:20 -- Some final thoughts...
--1. It's only June.
--2. As far as double murders go, "Called third strike on Nixon/Frye thrown out at third" was right up there with Goldman-Simpson. Jimy's killing this team with hit-and-runs -- they always seem to bite this team in the butt. And Pedro should have pitched yesterday so Brian Rose avoided this series altogether. I feel very strongly about this. Jimy, pull your head out of your rear end, please. You have a team with a legitimate chance to win a World Series here.
--3. It would be fun to see these two teams play a big game without the Yankees getting every big call. Two times and it's a coincidence... 20 times and it needs to be investigated by Bob Ley and the "Outside the Lines" ESPN crew.
--4. I'm just starting to appreciate how great that Memorial Day Weekend Pedro-Roger game was. It will never be topped. Today's game was pretty exciting, but it wasn't even in the same universe as the other game. Of course, the Red Sox won the other game and the other other game wasn't fixed, so maybe I'm biased.
--5. No, I didn't jinx the damned game by doing a running diary. I can feel the e-mails starting to drift into my mailbox already. You're all starting to give me a complex.
--6. When they create the pantheon for "People who come up small in big moments," they might have to devote a whole wing to Pocket Rocket Roger. This guy's come up short more times than Danny DeVito and Muggsy Bogues combined.
--7. It's only June.
--8. There is no God... well, other than Pedro.
--9. Finally, my head is pounding like the guy from "Scanners." I'm never doing this again.
**END**
I had been writing "running diaries" ever since the BSG site launched in May of '97; my third column ever was a running diary of the '97 NBA Draft. This particular Yankees-Red Sox game took place in the afternoon, so for my readers trapped at work, I decided to keep a "real-time running diary" in which I posted every 25-30 minutes as the game was happening. I would have been posting even more quickly than that, but it was a pain in the ass to publish things on the Web in 2000. (We even had technical difficulties near the end of this piece, as you will see.) These days, I guess this column would be called a "live blog." Now I'm wondering if this was the first one of its kind, or at least one of the first. Can anyone top June 14, 2000? By the way, this wasn't the greatest column so don't get your hopes up. Look out for a dated "Gladiator" reference, as well as my insistence that Trot Nixon's name be merged into one name (something I had been trying to get going at the time) and that Trot shouldn't be traded straight-up for a guy who hit 64 homers the following season.
**
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PEDRO-ROGER III
SG's real-time running diary, updated every 30 minutes
by Bill Simmons
1:00 -- We're live at the Sports Guy Mansion for "Pedro-Roger III: The Battle of Good Against Evil!" I'm playing the role of "Guy who's kicking himself right now" ... last week I turned down box seats for today's game (courtesy of my Uncle Rick) because I didn't feel like driving four hours to see Pete Schourek pitch. And then the rain intervened and, well, I'm an idiot.
Anyway, we're joined today by Channel 25's Jerry Remy and Sean McDonough, as well as a bottle of Mountain Dew and two pieces of stale Papa Gino's pizza. We'll be making Internet history today: the first streaming "Ramblings Diary" column of all-time. Every 30 minutes, I'll be posting, typos and all. You can feel the tension in the air.
1:01 -- Fox starts off with the fight music from Rocky (the first Creed-Balboa fight) and a Pedro-Roger montage from their first two games. I have goosebumps on my goosebumps.
1:05 -- Remy warns us to watch out for Clemens and Trotnixon, saying, "If he comes out and hits him, this game could get ugly." Speaking of ugly, what's going on with Jerry's hair? Reader MrNoun@aol.com put it best: "Jerry Remy's haircut really disturbs me. I mean, REALLY disturbs me. He's got kind of a Hitler thing going there. I keep waiting for him to break into a rousing chorus of Deutschland Uber Alles."
1:10 -- Butch Stearns with a feature on Trotnixon's Memorial Day homer. Trotnixon says that when Clemens yelled at him, there was a "flame that went thru my body... that flame started building... with intensity."
(I will have my vengeance. Whether in this life or the next, I will have my vengeance.)
1:12 -- I love Trotnixon. How could anyone want to trade this guy for Sammy Sosa? He's untouchable in my book. I'm not kidding. Certain players have to be judged beyond their stats -- he's one of them. I won't even argue about this.
1:16 -- McDonough reads off the Sox lineup and tells us "The struggling Troy O'Leary has been given the day off again."
(Struggling? I was thinking more along the lines of "floundering" or "drowning.")
1:18 -- R & M list all the reasons why New York fans hate Roger. Everyone hates Roger. This should be a new CBS show... "Everyone Hates Roger," starring John Goodman as Roger, the cross-dresser from "Con Air" as Ricky Ledee and Ruthie from "Real World Hawaii" as Bernie Williams.
1:19 -- Speaking of the "Real World," how 'bout the new New Orleans cast? How much does the Phillipino-black chick look like Charles Barkley in drag? And will you ever get used to seeing two guys kiss in a hottub? I sure won't.
(By the way, after I finish this column I'm moving down to New Orleans to stalk Kelly the Blonde Chick. And yes, we're killing time here because Roger is three minutes late showing up to the mound, the lazy fat hick. I'm not making this up. The game started and Roger is nowhere to be seen. The mound is empty. Very bizarre. Maybe he was abducted by a drunken Dennis Eckersley.)
1:20 -- Raise your hand if you're enjoying the "Jose Offerman's playing 1B and leading off" Era.
1:22 -- One-out single for the utterly and completely rejuvenated Jeff Frye.
(There's something very Josh Baskin-esque about Frye right now... I keep waiting to read about the time he wished for the second base job after putting 25 cents into an unplugged Zoltar machine.)
1:25 -- Trotnixon works an 0-2 count into a walk. Clemens looks like crap and Remy's downing his leg kick. My nipples are ROCK-hard right now.
1:26 -- Nomar walks on four awful-looking pitches. Roger's all out of whack and his leg kick looks worse than Ann Miller's right now, and she's 100 years old. Remy can't stop talking about it. Nobody loves analyzing pitcher mechanics more than Jerry.
1:30 -- Everett pops up with the bases loaded... then Daubach works a full count and pops out. Clemens wiggles out of the inning (like the snake he is).
1:34 -- Here comes Pedro! As WEEI's Dale Arnold said this morning, "You have to feel pretty doggone good when you have Pedro going today for first place." Dale Arnold is definitely the only guy who still says the word "doggone."
(Speaking of WEEI could someone tell Eddie Andelman that it's "Juan Gonzalez," not "Juan Gonzalves"? What an embarrassment he is.)
1:36 -- Ramiro Mendoza's warming up in the bullpen!!! Remy wonders if something's physically wrong with Clemens. Yeah, something's wrong with his scrotum.
1:37 -- Knoblauch leads off with a double -- there goes the no-hitter! Pedro was only 27 outs away. R & M think Pedro looks stiff and they think his delivery looks off.
1:42 -- Pedro whiffs Jeter, loads the bases on a BB and a HBP and strikes out Tino on three pitches. Now Posada's up as Fox jinxes Pedro by showing a graphic of his 22 2/3 scoreless inning streak. Boooooo.
1:47 -- Pedro gets hosed on strike three and walks in a run. 1-0, Yanks. Pedro's pissed about the call. Blame Fox on that one. Thankfully Ricky Ledee is up -- he graciously agrees to pop out. Inning over.
1:53 -- As my buddy Camp would say, "Un-BEEEEEEE-lievable!!!!!!!' Clemens just left the game with a "strained right groin" and Ramiro Mendoza is on the mound and ready to pull an Dave Burba. God, Clemens is the worst, isn't he? Can menstrual cramps really bother your groin that much?
1:54 -- I'm just bummed out. Only Clemens can still let down Red Sox fans even four years after he left the team.
1:56 -- The Sox go down meekly in the second. Can Fox cue up the Rocky music again or something?
2:00 -- More news on Roger: Butch Stearns reports that Roger strained his groin before the game when he saw a five-dollar bill on the floor of the clubhouse and dove down to pick it up.
2:05 -- R & M discuss the Sosa hunt as Pedro goes 1-2-3 in the second, including a K of Knoblauch to end the inning. Three K's for Pedro.
(My take on Sosa: I'd give up Stenson, Lomasney and two pitching prospects in a heartbeat. The goal should be to improve the current team without taking one of the key cogs away... you know, like Trotnixon.)
2:08 -- Hey, if the Sox traded for Sammy, do you think Jimy Williams would meet with him like Duke meeting Rocky before the Drago fight in Rocky 4 and tell him, "You know, Sammy, when Troy O'Leary died, a part of me died too. But now you're the one. You're the one who's gonna make sure Troy's death didn't happen for nothing... you know what you gotta do... so do it. DO IT!"
2:11 -- Offie's on first with no outs. I'm still thinking about the Sosa trade. It's too bad life isn't like "Triple Play 2001" on the Sony PlayStation... we could trade Darren Lewis straight-up for Sammy and it would only cost us 200 trade points. Now THAT's a good deal.
2:13 -- Mendoza's eating up the Sox -- three broken bats, looks dominant, just like he did last year against us. There isn't a Red Sox fan alive who wouldn't want Roger in there right now over Ramiro Mendoza. This is Dave Burba all over again (from Game 2 of the Indians series in '98, when Gooden was thrown out).
2:17 -- Hey, do you think Clemens found out he was going against Pedro last night and sat in the dugout trying to think of fake injuries so he could weasel out of today's game? I'll say my back went out... nahh... I used that one last year in Game Three of the ALCS... I'll say my elbow hurts... nahhh, they'll do an MRI on it and see right thru me... WAIT, I know... I'll say I strained my groin when I was warming up! Yeah! That's what I'll do!
2:19 -- Jeter K's for the second time to lead off the third. K K K K.
2:23 -- For some reason, McDonough remembers the time designer Joseph Abboud called Derek Jeter "Derek Jetter." This is funny on about 19 different levels. Still doesn't beat the time the Sports Gal called Jeter "Keith Jeter" during the ALCS next year, though.
2:25 -- Three up, three down for the Yanks. Pedro is ON.
2:26 -- You know that anti-smoking commercial with that bald guy talking about his wife dying of lung cancer? Does anyone else have nightmares about that guy? It's the first anti-smoking commercial that actually makes you afraid to watch TV, too.
2:27 -- SM: "In case you missed it, Roger Clemens left this game after the first inning because of a blocked ovary."
2:32 -- All bias aside, the chant "YAN-KEES SUCK! YAN-KEES SUCK!" just sounds better than "BOS-TON SUCKS! BOS-TON SUCKS!" The second chant just sounds like a reach. Typical of New Yorkers to take something good from someone else and ruin it completely.
2:36 -- Wilton Veras up with two outs in the fourth and runners on 2nd and 1st... you can feel the strikeout coming here. It's like when you're in the car with someone and they let one fly and there's that interminable five-second waiting period before the whole car starts to smell. That's what I feel like right now.
2:38 -- I was wrong... Veras grounded out. I wonder what Ed Sprague would have done there.
2:39 -- There's just something disorienting about Dunkin Donuts' ads for the "Nomar Summer Sipper." COME GET YOUR NOMAR SUMMER SIPPER RIGHT NOW!!!" Um... no thanks... I have a girlfriend.
2:42 -- Three up, three down for Pedro. He's thrown 63 pitches, given up four hits, walked one, hit one batter, and struck out four. He also healed Mel Stottlemyre and parted the center field bleachers.
2:48 -- SM says that the latest rumor going around has the Sox interested in Houston's Ken Caminiti. Yes, please. He's one of those gritty/gutty/unshaven guys who you love when they're on your team.
2:52 -- A two-out "Don't trade me" single by Trotnixon off Tino's glove, followed by a single off Brosius' glove by the Nomar Summer Sipper. First and second, one out, top of the fifth. Here comes Carl Everett... you can feel it, baby... come on... mama needs a new pair of shoes...
2:54 -- Ugh... Everett strikes out to end the inning. He's left five runners on base today. I'd be swearing and throwing things right now if Carl Everett wasn't involved.
2:58 -- Brosius doubles to the gap with one out, only the second hard-hit ball off Pedro today. Now Knoblauch's up and looks ready for one of those 19-pitch at-bats... uh-oh...
3:02 -- Strike three! On a nine-pitch at-bat. Sit down, Chuck. Then Pedro gets Jeter on a grounder to end the inning and brings Lou Gehrig back to life for good measure.
3:07 -- Yikes! One of my readers just alerted me that ESPN Classic showed the '78 Playoff Game from 1-to-3. Thank God I missed that... they would have had to turn off the no-smoking sign in the SG Mansion and I would've ended up having nightmares about the bald guy from the anti-smoking commercial tonight.
3:12 -- Two more Sox batters stranded as Mendoza gets Offerman out on a weak grounder with runners on first and second. This game is officially giving me blueballs.
3:15 -- "My wife Marie used to smoke. After she got diagnosed with cancer, she used to smoke even more. I used to light her cigarettes for her. The lighter had a happy-face on it. A happy-face."
(AHHH! AHHHH! AHHHH! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!! HE'S ON AGAIN!!!!)
3:17 -- I'm not even exaggerating this... Carl Everett almost made the greatest catch of all-time on the centerfield warning track on Paul O'Neill. Missed it by about two inches.. Six hits for the Yanks. Man on second, nobody out. Bottom of the sixth. Bernie's up.
3:23 -- Pedro gets out of the inning with a special assist from Rickey Ledee -- K -- who hasn't looked this overmatched since John Malkovich ordered him around in "Con Air." It looks like Pedro is still angry at the home plate ump -- he keeps doing the long stare thing every time he walks off the mound. Always enjoyable.
(After six innings, it's 1-0, Yanks.)
3:30 -- No-mahhhhhhhhhh! A two-out homer off Ricky Ledee's glove into the LF stands! No-Mahhhhh! Did you enjoy the Nomar Summer Sipper, Ricky? It's a 1-1 game!
3:33 -- Everett singles and takes second when Ledee over-runs the ball. You wanna talk about weak links... you gotta start with Ricky Ledee. It's funny how a baseball team's weakest spots always seem to rear their ugly heads in big games.
3:35 -- The Sox knock out Mendoza and put two runners on with two outs. By the way, you knew this running diary thing would have at least one hitch -- I think all the reader hits at the same time shut the DCB server down. Seriously. I can't make any changes. Help...
3:39 -- Lewis grounds out to end the inning against some guy named Grimsley. I'm so flustered by the IP tool right now that I think I feel a seizure coming on... uh-oh..
(Errjjejjehg eerrrrrrrrv AHHHHHHHH!!!! AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHH!!!!)
3:41 -- Remember when I wrote that "It's funny how a baseball team's weakest spots always seem to rear their ugly heads in big games"? Well, Tim Wakefield's in for Pedro. Hold onto your seats...
(Final stats on Pedro: six innings, 101 pitches, six hits, one run, two W's, one HBP, seven K's, two healings, one CF bleacher parting, one Yankee legend brought back to life, another battle won over the fat traitor hick.)
3:45 -- Wow! Trot Nixon almost made a phenomenal catch off Shane Spencer to start off the bottom of the seventh... a diving lunge that almost left him with a broken neck. This game has had three of the greatest near-catches of all-time; there have also been two infield hits that bounced off someone's glove. I'm not sure what this means.
3:49 -- With one out and a runner on third, Wakefield gets Knoblauch (K) and Jeter (line drive to Frye) to end the inning. What a game! Not as great as the one last month, but just as classic in a bizarre, mesmerizing "HBO documentary on hookers & pimps" kinda way.
3:51 -- Man, I was going great until the DCB server went down. I feel like I was tossing a two-hitter... then a fan ran on the field and caused a ten-minute delay... and now I can't get my rhythm back.
3:53 -- Reader LGross@(work).com thinks the Clemens injury was eerily reminscent of the scene in Back to School when Chaz (played by the villainous William Zabka) faked a leg injury at the diving meet and Thornton Mellon had to come in and do the Triple Lindy. I think it resembles the scene in Caddyshack when Rodney Dangerfield hit the drive and it bounced back and hit his arm and he waited for a few seconds and then shouted out, "Ooooh, my arm! I think it's broken!" The truth probably lies somewhere in between. Either way, the Dangerfield factor is definitely involved.
3:57 -- Before we forget, I just wanted to say that it was nice of the idiot Yankee fans to avoid jumping face-first on the foul ball screen today.
4:00 -- Jose Offerman just got thrown out of the game for arguing a double-play call from the last inning that he wasn't even involved in (Veras was called out at second when he was CLEARLY safe). SM says sardonically, "Another shaky call in a Sox-Yanks game where the Red Sox got the short end of the stick."
(Nobody twists the knife quite like Sean McDonough. He just doesn't care.)
4:05 -- DAMMMMMMMMITTTTTTT! Wakefield just gave up a two-out bomb to Tino into the RF bleachers. Yankees 2, Sox 1. This is what happens when you give Pedro an extra day of rest and start Brian Rose and use up your bullpen on Tuesday night instead of starting Pedro on Wednesday and Pete Schourek on Wednesday... you end up with Tim Wakefield pitching to Tino Martinez in the eighth inning of a tie game. And where the hell was Rheal Cormier?
(Note: Saying Wakefield is good to have on a staff because he eats innings is like saying Michael Gee is good to have on your sportswriting staff because he "eats up pages.")
4:10 -- There's nothing worse than when the Sox are on the road and the home team breaks up the tie with a go-ahead homer in the bottom of the eighth. The ultimate kick in the crotch. All of the sudden it's the top of the ninth and you're battling against someone like Mariano Rivera.
4:12 -- Just stomped angrily around the house for a couple of minutes.
4:14 -- Jeff Frye leads off the top of the ninth with a line-drive single off the Zoltar machine. As Jerry Trupiano would say, the tying run is on base with NOOOOOOOOO-body out.
4:15 -- Boom-boom KEEHH! Boom-boom KEEHH! Boom-boom KEEHH!
4:17 -- Nixon strikes out on a full count... the hit-and-run's on... Frye gets thrown out at second. I will now light myself on fire.
(Let the record show that strike three was the exact same pitch that was called "ball four" to Posada in the first inning. It's just a shame that the Yankees can't ever win fair and square.)
4:18 -- Rivera snares a Nomar grounder and throws him out to end the game. Final score: Yankees 2, Sox 1. I wish I had a dog to kick. Or a groin.
4:20 -- Some final thoughts...
--1. It's only June.
--2. As far as double murders go, "Called third strike on Nixon/Frye thrown out at third" was right up there with Goldman-Simpson. Jimy's killing this team with hit-and-runs -- they always seem to bite this team in the butt. And Pedro should have pitched yesterday so Brian Rose avoided this series altogether. I feel very strongly about this. Jimy, pull your head out of your rear end, please. You have a team with a legitimate chance to win a World Series here.
--3. It would be fun to see these two teams play a big game without the Yankees getting every big call. Two times and it's a coincidence... 20 times and it needs to be investigated by Bob Ley and the "Outside the Lines" ESPN crew.
--4. I'm just starting to appreciate how great that Memorial Day Weekend Pedro-Roger game was. It will never be topped. Today's game was pretty exciting, but it wasn't even in the same universe as the other game. Of course, the Red Sox won the other game and the other other game wasn't fixed, so maybe I'm biased.
--5. No, I didn't jinx the damned game by doing a running diary. I can feel the e-mails starting to drift into my mailbox already. You're all starting to give me a complex.
--6. When they create the pantheon for "People who come up small in big moments," they might have to devote a whole wing to Pocket Rocket Roger. This guy's come up short more times than Danny DeVito and Muggsy Bogues combined.
--7. It's only June.
--8. There is no God... well, other than Pedro.
--9. Finally, my head is pounding like the guy from "Scanners." I'm never doing this again.
**END**
