Bryce Harper Beat The Clock To Bring An Incredible End To The HR Derby, And Naturally Some Baseball Fans Accused Him Of Cheating
I don't know about you, but I couldn't have been more happy to have the undeniable brilliance of Bryce Harper's bat downplayed by a reminder of the most outdated of Home Run Derby rules. It might be a rule that's as senseless as calling traveling in a slam dunk contest, but in a challenge that's result is simply determined by who can hit the most balls the furthest in a short and specified amount of time, the thing we should all be most worried about is proper spacing between pitches.
For a moment there I thought a heartwarming father/son moment that was undeniably endearing to even the most casual of fan was the best possible result for baseball. However, in retrospect, it definitely would have been better to blow the proverbial whistle on a furious rally, stop the clock before it got beaten in a way that set up a superstar for a walk-off kill shot in his home stadium, and accuse the two generations of Harper's in question of cheating. To those that think it seems ass backwards to ask players to admire their dingers during a 4-minute round when doing so over the course of a 4-hour game will get them beaned in the hip with a fastball, I say that rules are rules...even if they are inconsistent, exist for no logical reason, and completely contradict the point of the competition.
Don't get me wrong. Watching Bryce Harper display an extraordinary rush of power, focus, and endurance that made it seem as though he sucked down some of Popeye's spinach during his last timeout was really awesome, but since when is treating the fans to the most entertaining show possible during a gimmicky game whose popularity is largely driven by their interest the golden rule of the Home Run Derby?
In all seriousness, I'm just going to need those that adhere to everything baseball-related as strictly as they stick to the script of their Bible teachings to shut the hell up for the sake of their own sport. I know it's more so the upset gamblers arguing on behalf of lost wages and pissy Cubs fans arguing on behalf of Kyle Schwarber than ticked off traditionalists, but they all sound mind-numbingly stupid in a way that reminds everyone that some baseball fans don't even deserve nice things.
Saints' D-Lineman Mitchell Loewen Helped Save A Man Whose Car Fell Four Stories From A Parking Garage
NOLA- A New Orleans Saints defensive lineman led a crowd of bystanders who jumped into action to free a man trapped in a car after it plunged from the fourth floor of a CBD parking garage Sunday afternoon (July 15).
Mitchell Loewen, 25, was enjoying brunch with his wife and 2-year-old son at Willa Jean when the car came crashing down near the intersection of Girod Street and O'Keefe Avenue. His back was to the window he said, and the impact sounded like an explosion.
"People were screaming, it sounded like a bomb or an earthquake or something," Loewen said.
"There were a bunch of people standing around, but not approaching the car and I was like 'What's up, let's help this guy,'" Loewen said Monday. "I mean, obviously there was someone in there, I wasn't going to just stand by and watch. It was a life or death situation."
"There was no way I could have dragged him out of that, so I called for people to come help and about 10 of us flipped the car onto its side," Loewen said.
After another push, the car was upright again but the man inside stopped responding to Loewen's questions.
"I got really worried. We couldn't see into the car very well, but the doors were so crushed we couldn't open them," Loewen said.
Another bystander crawled into the car and opened the back-passenger door from the inside, Loewen said. He called out to say the man was still conscious. Loewen wrenched open the door from the outside, ripping it off its hinges and leaned into the car to speak with the man.
"He didn't say much, he was just thanking us all. I hugged him and told him he was going to be ok, and then I prayed with him," Loewen said. "I couldn't tell how bad his injuries were, but there was a lot of blood and broken glass."
First but definitely not foremost, a tip of the hat goes to Mercedes-Benz. With craftsmanship of such quality that a man can go full Fast And Furious from the 4th floor of a parking garage and live to tell the tale, it's no wonder they've been able to maintain the naming rights of the SuperDome. I don't know that I would use their product's ability to defy near certain death as as selling point, but it's still pretty impressive that that G-Class didn't grade out as an 'F' in safety rating after that kamikaze-esque collision course.
Now, as for one of the many heroes that happened to be on the scene, I'm beginning to think there's something to Mitchell Loewen's "against all odds" mentality. Statistically speaking, the dude has very little business still being in the NFL as an undrafted free agent at a premium position that's typically overvalued. However, not only if he still clinging to a spot on a roster that's gotten exponentially deeper since his arrival, but now he's bolting out of brunch spots and orchestrating rescue missions by using his positional power to help get up "under the pads" of high occupancy vehicles that could be crushing the legs of their driver? He's definitely made a habit out of finding himself in the right place at the right time, but credit to him for making the absolute most of it, both on and off the field.
I still have questions as to how an SUV that's shaped like a brick finds it's way off the side/through the side of a building meant specifically to keep cars in-house. That said, the most important aspect of this story is that it has no casualties and that's due, at least in part, to the proactivity of the Saints' D-lineman who wasted no precious time in interrupting his eggs benedict to rally strangers in the face of what could have easily been a fatal catastrophe. Crisis somehow averted.
It Took 20 Goals Against, But The Opposing Goalie In Everton's Friendly Finally Threw In The Towel In a 22-0 Defeat
I think the obvious question here is a rhetorical one. Other than boosting their own confidence by way of not-so-borderline bullying, there's no reasonable answer for why a Premier League team would find it a productive use of their preparation time to beat the absolute piss out out of some beer leaguers. I mean, if that was just a "friendly" then so was the time that Tim Riggins plowed his recently paralyzed quarterback's girlfriend on Friday Night Lights. Therefore, I'm not even going to ask why this massacre even took place, and instead focus on one of the most impressive achievements I have ever seen on the pitch.
Yeah, I guess the twenty-two unanswered goals in a 90 minute game that typically features under 10% of that much scoring was all well and good, but not nearly as commendable as the opposing goalkeeper nearly making it to stoppage time before quitting on his team. In the moment, it might have seemed infantile for him to turn his back on the ball as a form of protest. However, after his own teammate increased the lead to 19 by inexplicably booming one over his head for no apparent reason, anything more peaceful than breaking pint bottles over the head of each one of his peers became a stellar display of both sportsmanship and professionalism...
Honestly, any man of even slightly lesser character would have been impatiently waiting on the team bus with a pillowcase full of quarters by the time the lead was increased to a dozen, so credit to him for making it 84 minutes into that drubbing before relinquishing all responsibilities. Never mind throwing in the towel, he had plenty of reason to use it to chloroform his entire roster and leave them naked and hogtied at midfield. Hopefully he didn't pay for a single drink that night, and that includes those he would have been every bit justified in dumping on the heads of the bums that hung him out to dry all afternoon.
An MLS Coach Went On A Half-Assed Rant About The Officials, Showing How Far Soccer Has To Go In This Country
This doesn't happen all too often, but I'm offended. Not by a professional coach's use of an expletive in his attempt to emphasize how little he cares about being penalized for his opinion, but rather his abuse of the word "shit" in trying to make an otherwise mild outburst seem worthy of a fine in the first place.
Honestly, I just feel as thought I was lied to. I don't like being led astray, and labeling that overly thought out, long-winded, and completely coherent complaint a "rant" is as disingenuous as considering the even-keeled man who delivered it to be a martyr. I thought I was going to get a glimpse at a World Cup-worthy freakout from an MLS manager who got tossed from a game in which his team ended up losing by a single goal. Instead I witnessed a reminder that the ambiguous rules of beer pong are the cause for far more uncontrollable anger in the United States than crappy officiating at the highest level of domestically organized soccer.
Hell, if I were the Commissioner I wouldn't even give the manager of Real Salt Lake the satisfaction of a fine, for the only thing profane about that cuss word was how shamelessly it was inserted to get that interview rated PG-13. That might pass for a "rant" in Utah, but anywhere within spitting distance of the Tristate area and that's considered run-of-the-mill irritability. I know inconsolable animosity in sports when I see it, and native New Yorker Mike Petke sounding off in a way that made it seem more likely that his steak was slightly overcooked than his team was robbed of a victorious result in a professional sporting event ain't it.
The MLS needs a little more "they are who we thought they were!" (R.I.P. Dennis Green) if those fully invested in it want us to believe that it isn't what we think it is. Which is, of course, an extremely underwhelming attempt at trying to popularize soccer in a country whose upmost quality can't even qualify for tournament in which blood would literally be shed over a bad enough call.
A Fan Ran Across Coors Field And Got What He Had Coming By Way Of A Form Tackle From Another Fan That Was Just As Thirsty For Attention
Look, if only because I find both parties to be extremely douchey, I don't want to take sides here. Running on the field at professional sporting event was pointless before it became played out, and taking it upon yourself to act as the gavel in laying down the law on perpetrators of something as harmless as in-stadium statutes is some sanctimonious nonsense. Without knowing them outside of one of the biggest plot twists in the history of short-but-sweet internet clips, I'd say both these kids are at equal but opposite ends of the insufferableness scale.
That's why I can't feel bad for the dude that thought he was home free before getting absolutely buckled by the most brutal of citizen's arrests. It was both a bit of a cheap shot and a self-serving of show how overly serious baseball fans are when it comes to the "sanctity" of their sport, but the motivation behind that spear was only as insincere as that of the streaker. When it comes down to it, that was obnoxious, attention-seeking bro on obnoxious, attention-seeking bro crime, but only one of them was original in carrying out his quest for viral fame. I'd still too close to call as to who I dislike more. However, when it comes to whose actions got more of visceral reaction out of me, I begrudgingly have to give the nod to the snitch that decided to uphold justice on behalf of stadium security like a complete loser. At least that try-hard showed me something I've never seen before, even if it was also a shameless ploy for retweets...
Unlike some overreactive fans inevitably will, I'm not about to lose my lid over a hat trick scored in a scrimmage. I suppose I understand why some might look at a defense whose left side is nearly as lacking of qualified candidates as the most recent Presidential election and a left-handed defenseman who possesses the perfect skill set for long term success, and want to the force the latter into the office of the former as soon as possible. After all, you'd have to go back to a time well before Lou Lamoriello actively decided he was too damn old to adapt to find a Devils' development camp that was as rich with young talent, and even then you'd still have a hard time coming across one in which a defenseman was immediately the most consistent catalyst at both ends of the ice. Simply put, what Ty Smith did on Saturday was force the focus unto himself from a position that's not inherently flashy. For that reason alone, the stat line of the first round pick that fortuitously went without regard before floating to the top of New Jersey's prospect pool might encourage the idle hands that are the Devils fans' playground to start writing his name onto the wall as quick fix when he still has a long way to go before manning an NHL blue line.
The proper way to view Ty Smith is to treat him like a meal that's slowly simmering in the crock pot. We just got an intoxicating sniff of the first waft and were more than pleasantly surprised to see how the ingredients were coming together as perfectly as advertised in the recipe (i.e. scouting report). We're still a ways away from getting fat off the finished product, but - while patience is key to perfecting its preparation - the belief that there's not much tinkering to be done to guarantee the fulfillment of a true two-way, top-4 defenseman has been rationalized by way of sensory overload.
It's called developmental camp for a reason and it's not a reason that Ty Smith is an exception to. He still has a lot of maturing to do before he's comfortably maneuvering around all three zones of an NHL ice surface against those that have proven themselves on it. That said, it sure looked like most of that much-needed maturation is physical as opposed to mental, and thinking the game at a high level is the biggest hurdle for young defenseman. Surely the 19 year old still has a lot to learn as well, but he's already looking like someone that has the ability to take everything in stride en route to the finish line that marks the start of his professional career. That's great news for an organization that will more than likely be anxiously awaiting it.
FIFA Appears Intent On Addressing Its Most Problematic Issue, Which Is (::scratches head::) Female Fan Shots?
LBS- A FIFA executive says the organization has talked with broadcasters about reducing the amount of shots of hot women at the World Cup.
An anti-discrimination group called Fare Network has raised a point about sexism at the World Cup, which includes the harassment of female reporters while on TV, as well as multiple shots of female fans in the crowd.
According to FIFA diversity boss Federico Addiechi, they have discussed the matter with broadcasters.
“We’ve done it with individual broadcasters. We’ve done it with our host broadcast services,” Addiechi said, via the BBC.
He said the organization will look into reducing cutaways to female fans.
“This is one of the activities we definitely will have in future – it’s a normal evolution.”
I'll tell you what, the best thing that could possibly happen to FIFA is that broadcast crews don't heed their warning and continue to give attractive women from all over the globe their five seconds of international fame. I get that female-dominated fan shots are technically objectifying and the idea of some guy scanning the crowd for busty cougars and panting as he pounds on the zoom button is definitely a little creepy. That said, if their cutaways stop being so easy on the eyes then the most corrupt institution in all of sports might actually have to address their laundry list of real problems.
I mean, FOX could send cameramen into bathrooms unannounced to peek over stalls and broadcast drunken, mid-match money shots during breaks in the action and it still wouldn't be the most problematic practice with which FIFA affiliates itself. We're talking about an organization that has blood on both their hands and the multi-millions that are lining their pockets, and their biggest concern is wiping clean the drool from their viewing demographic of excitable dudes? The World Cup is a tournament that attracts psychotic sports fans that take patriotism to a nationalistic level, and the prejudice that's being prioritized as an issue is the disproportional amount of times in which the fairer sex quickly graces the screen with its beauty amidst homophobic chants and death threats?
To call this call for more maniacal men on camera a diversionary tactic would be an insult to diversion and tactics, because putting candid shots of pretty women in the stands in the same vein of sexism as the inexcusable physical harassment of female reporters makes my eyes roll so over-emphatically that they'd put Neymar to shame. If FIFA is intent on ridding itself of all -ism's then perhaps it should start by not setting its most illustrious stage in a home country that views homosexuality as more offensive than hate crimes. Maybe it's just me, but the racism that tends to result from pitting less than progressive nations against each other in competition that's made more heated on the field and in the stands by the stakes might be worthy of more attention than the objectification of some Brazilian bombshell that's probably going to filter her World Cup cameo into a highly hearted Instagram post.
If it is truly sexism then it's sexism in its most mild form, and there's nothing mild about the problems that arise when the entire f'n world has to agree on a specific set of social norms during a month in which every country is rooting for one another's misery.
In Addition To Sleeping Through His Introductory Conference Call And Missing His Flight, Celtics' Rookie Robert Williams Lost His Wallet Twice In Two Days
TheSportsHub- Beyond a misunderstanding of timezones that led to a missed conference call but before a missed flight back to Boston, the 20-year-old big man lost his wallet somewhere in Boston.
As detailed by MassLive's Tom Westerholm, Williams' missing wallet forced Celtic staffers to frantically search the area while Williams participated in a charity event. Williams then realized he left the wallet at his hotel, and team staffers ultimately found the wallet in time for Williams to make his flight back home.
But a day later -- and before a flight back to Boston for the start of Summer League play -- Williams again lost his wallet.
This is almost impossible to imagine, I know, but this is something that Williams himself told Westerholm. And just like the first time in Boston, Williams said he knew where it was. D.J. Hogg, a teammate of Williams at Texas A&M and currently with the Pelicans, had it (for some reason). But Hogg was already hours away and didn't have the money to ship it to Williams.
So Williams was forced to try to get onto his flight to Boston without his ID. Williams got through, sure, but ultimately missed his flight.
So, to recap: Williams missed his introductory conference call with the media because he thought it was an hour behind or ahead. He then lost his wallet upon his arrival in Boston, and found it with justenough time to catch his flight back home. Then, home for barely 48 hours, the 20-year-old somehow lost it again and then missed his flight back to Boston. And after what you have to think was a you-don't-get-a-billion-chances scolding from the Celtic organization, the C's have assigned G-League coach Alex Barlow to essentially be Williams' personal coach. That's because the Celts clearly -- and probably not incorrectly -- think that they need to help teach Williams how to be an adult in the National Basketball Association.
I'll tell you what. Robert Williams might come late without any sort of focus or government issued form of identification, but he doesn't come as falsely advertised. For what that scouting report lacks in leadership qualities, it more than makes up for in accuracy, and it's definitely nice to know exactly what you're getting out of what's basically a crap shoot.
Now, there's probably something to be said about getting your professional career started on the right foot when the wrong foot is the one that kicked you and your immaturity issues down the draft board in the first place, but I say that "something" is that it sets an unmaintainable standard. A bad first impression might sabotage a relationship before it gets started, but when that relationship is contractually binded all it does is set easy to surpass expectations.
The Celtics didn't really expect Robert Williams to grow up overnight after he failed to get his shit together throughout a full year of NBA evaluation, did they? Pulling his head out of his ass was always going to be a process, and the further it appears buried up there in the first place the easier it is to make it seem like there's been progress in getting it to see the light. The precedent is currently set at Boston's first round forward being unable to tell time or keep tabs on anything that didn't grow from his groin. That's such a low bar that he might be able to clear it without the help of healthy knees or fully functioning arteries!
I'm not saying the concerns haven't grown, and rightfully so, since he was selected 27th overall by a team with a coaching staff that's proven capable of getting the most out of its young players, but what Robert Williams does have on his side is relativity. Barring another "misunderstanding of timezones", he might actually be the first player to ever get praised for showing up to his NBA debut before tip-off! Hell, considering how quickly he's gotten to work on innovative prototypes to make sure he doesn't make the same mistake three times (in a week), he might even have all his essentials on his person come opening night! Bet we won't be questioning his professional development then!
"Williams even joked about his wallet issues, saying he needs to glue it to his phone."
Previously in 'Bill Russell Flips Off The Entire Basketball World'....
And now, to your regularly scheduled programming...
I just have one question. To become the old man whose middle finger is both his greatest gag and a guaranteed source of uproarious laughter do you first need to attain more championship rings than you have fingers? The lack of fucks given is undoubtedly #LifeGoals and I need to know what's required to reach them, because being encouraged not to filter otherwise inappropriate hand motions is really all that I want out of my twilight years. I suppose being a universally liked human being before going gray would be a good start, but I'd love to know if there's anything other than irrefutable reverence from every single one of his peers that gave him the go-ahead to start gesturing to them to go fuck themselves with a shit-eating grin on his face. I don't quite have a hoops game that's transcendent of it's time so I'm basically just depending on my own personality to give me the green light for bird flipping, and I'm pretty sure that's not going to cut it with those outside my most inner-circle, never mind some of the best basketball players of past and present.
Kellen Winslow's Accusers Couldn't Identify Him As Their Attacker In Court, And I Wonder Why That Is...
PFT- The preliminary hearing has commenced in the criminal case against former NFL tight end Kellen Winslow II. As explained by FOX 5 in San Diego, the prosecution may have a problem.
Three of the unnamed witnesses who allegedly had interactions with Winslow under suspicious and/or criminal circumstances could not identify him in court.
Jane Doe 3, a 58-year-old woman, said that a man named “David” entered her property and “dropped his shorts and exposed himself.” However, she could not identify Winslow as the man who committed those acts.
71-year-old Jane Doe 4 heard about Winslow’s arrest while watching the news on TV in early June, and she thought he was the same man who had entered her home a day earlier. She could not confirm in court, however, that Winslow was the man she saw in her home.
Jane Doe 1, a 54-year-old transient, was lured into a Hummer and raped in March. However, she too could not positively identify Winslow as the assailant while testifying in court.
(Coincidentally (or not), the Kellen Winslow who appeared in court on Wednesday doesn’t look much like the Kellen Winslow we’ve become accustomed to seeing over the years. Instead, he looks more like Steve Urkel.)
Another woman who allegedly was raped by Winslow is expected to testify in court on Thursday. If she can’t identify Winslow, it could be difficult for the prosecution to convince the presiding judge that enough evidence exists to justify taking the case to trial. If the victims are unable to identify the attacker at trial, it will be difficult to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.
Wait, wait, wait...WHAT?!? As a society that's become enthralled with murder mysteries, I feel like we've all developed a somewhat unsettling appreciation for violent crimes. However, as someone who has sacrificed many a late night to binging the justice system's biggest loads of bullshit, even I can't believe that going full-Extreme Makeover in covering your tracks is an indisputable defense for the perfect one.
As guilty as the length of his rap(e) sheet makes him look, Kellen Winslow is still innocent until proven so. That said, making himself nearly unrecognizable to the people that used to watch him give postgame pressers, never mind the senior citizens that didn't have a chance to grab their reading glasses before he (allegedly) sexually assaulted them, cannot be his get out of jail free card.
We all know Clark Rent didn't take a break from going door-to-door selling the word of the Lord to forcibly penetrate grandmas, but he's not the one that's supposed to be headed to trial here. That distinction belongs to the SuperVillain that was (allegedly) breaking into houses before his alter-ego showed up to court looking housebroken. Of course Adam Schefter's long lost, racially ambiguous brother wasn't preying on the vulnerability of the elderly more shamelessly than the grandchildren they take shopping. This guy, on the other hand...
Kellen Winslow somehow went from looking fin to take your mother from behind to looking fit to take home to her faster than the tone of a Drake album, so I do begrudgingly tip my cap to the transformation. That said, you can call me crazy, but I personally feel as though your best defense against a half dozen rapes being a bizarro world version of yourself should probably make you seem a hell of a lot more guilty than innocent in the eyes of those that don't need to squint and ask "...is that you?" when answering the door.
I'd watch a NetFlix special on it either way, but - for the sake of both due process and the safety of vintagely-aged females far and wide - I'd prefer it star the Kellen Winslow that's defending himself against the embezzlement of granny panties as opposed to the embezzlement of grant payments...
England Fans In London Celebrating A Goal With A City-Wide Beer Shower Is As Good As The World Cup Gets
If for some reason you still needed a glimpse into just how much the World Cup means to those wholeheartedly invested in its outcome then this video is the perfect portrayal. In order of importance, where their next beer was coming from was second only to a triumph for their home country, and yet the entirety of the English faithful couldn't help but throw a couple dozen kegs worth of Newcastle to the wind once their boys found the back of the net. Seriously, other than the actual sport itself, that clip of savory suds spraying over an entire congregation of loud, proud, and rowdy residents as if they all broke the seal off the backsplash of the world's largest urinal in unison is as good as international soccer gets.
Unfortunately for England, that clip was literally as good as it got. I already praised them for their awe-inspiring encapsulation of the thrill of victory, but - boy, oh boy - the agony of defeat must have stunk something serious. Just thousands of sticky, sweat-stained drunks slowly dragging ass back to their humble abodes smelling like the basement floor of a fraternity after having warm beer baked into their skin for the last hour and a half. I'm glad their highest of highs was what was caught on tape, because Croatia's comeback probably had them looking like death run over twice by the replenished beer truck they emptied all over each other once they came crashing down to the lowest of lows. Not to ruin what was an awesome moment by referencing it's polar opposite, but both are intrinsic to being a crazed fan of a sport that takes center stage once every four years. Live by the "GOAAAAL!", die by the "GOAAAAL!", and I'm taking about their buzz just as much as I'm talking about the people that had theirs blown.
LeSean McCoy Got Some Support From Just About The Worst Possible Person In The Wake Of Damning Domestic Violence Allegations
I think we all know that LeSean McCoy, as it stands, is innocent until proven guilty. Even if he doesn't have the greatest track record of being a remotely good person, there's enough hearsay surrounding this story (for which the accused has an alibi) to hold off on jumping to conclusions. If he's even 10% as awful of a human as is being alleged then the justice system will (Lord willing) do him far more damage than any presumably biased Instagram ever could, but there's still enough skepticism to question whether he's truly one slap of a senior citizen short of hitting the superfecta of domestic violence.
That being said, things aren't exactly looking too sunny for Shady right about now. Those wounds were extremely disturbing to look at regardless of who inflicted them, and - considering the NFL's reliance on a Kangaroo Court - that alone doesn't bode well for the accused. For that reason, you might think a vote of confidence/declaration of innocence from literally anyone with even the slightest knowledge of the situation would behoove him in the court of pubic opinion.
Unfortunately, you'd only be about 99.9% correct. You see, there is only a handful of voices that would ring hallow in support of LeSean McCoy, and one of them definitely belongs to the person that just rained in on the subject with a tweet storm in his defense...
I say the following with sadness because it's starting to sound like the result of an obvious case of CTE, but - given his actions of late - it's basically a coin flip as to whether or not Richie Incognito knows what planet he's on at any given time. He might have/have had insider info, but the legitimacy of it became forever compromised when he showed up at a public gym and started playing dodgeball with dumbbells while spouting more delusional nonsense than Randy Quaid's character in Independence Day...
Like, if Richie was totally "with us" then he would have realized that his word is currently as strong as that of homeless man preaching about the rise of Satan from the corner of a busy city block and shut the hell up. Even if you ignore both the bullying scandal and his general point of view on just about every single sensitive subject, an offseason that would have been better off Incognito is enough to discredit the former Buffalo Bill and his biased ruling on battered women, children, and pets.
How much truth is included in that damning social media post that paints LeSean McCoy as the juiced up combination of all the worst parts of Michael Vick, Adrian Peterson, and Ray Rice is still up for debate. However, if he's looking to strengthen his side of it then calling Chip Kelly to the stand would somehow make for a more beneficial character witness than the one he just got.
With One Out To Go In the 9th Inning, The Indians Managed To Blow A 4-Run Lead To The Reds After Inserting The Wrong Reliever Due To Bullpen Miscommunication
LBS- The Cleveland Indians blew a 4-0 lead in the ninth inning against the Cincinnati Reds on Tuesday, and a bullpen miscommunication was a big factor.
Cody Allen struggled in his attempt to close out a 4-0 lead and exited the game with the bases loaded, two outs, and the score 4-3. The Indians needed one out to end the game, but the dangerous Joey Votto was due up. Indians manager Terry Francona wanted Oliver Perez to face Votto in a lefty-lefty matchup, but there was a miscommunication.
According to Francona, pitching coach Carl Willis thought Francona asked for “OP,” but Willis heard “OT.” OP would have been Oliver Perez, but “OT” turned out to be Dan Otero. So the wrong pitcher was called for out of the bullpen.
Otero allowed a bases-clearing double to Votto then a walk and a single before the inning ended with Cincinnati up 7-4. Cleveland couldn’t score in the bottom of the ninth and lost.
Keep in mind that in addition to the lefty-lefty matchup compared to Otero, who is a right-hander, Perez has a 0.77 ERA this season vs. Otero’s 5.71 mark.
First and foremost, a tip of the cap is owed to the Cincinnati Reds. As complicit as the Cleveland Indians were in falling asleep at the wheel just prior to parking themselves in the win column, sparking a last second comeback the likes of which hasn't been seen since the days in which a fat drunk had the entire sport of baseball by its bat is nonetheless impressive...
That said, the miscommunication that let to said comeback is just further evidence for a theory I've long stood by. So, one more time for the people in the cheap seats...
THE BASEBALL SEASON IS TOO DAMN LONG!
I'm willing to listen to other explanations for a bullpen coach's inability to use common sense in crunch time and warming up a reliever that had no business facing one of the best hitters in baseball with the bases loaded and the game on the line, but right now the fatigue of 162 games played primarily through the dead of summer is the most logical reason I can conjure up for such carelessness. I suppose I could also point to Cleveland Indians use of generic and oddly similar nicknames as a basis for the confusion. However, since simply looking at the direness of the situation or the handedness of the players involved in the confusion could have cleared it up, I think I'm sticking with blaming the dog days for a coach's mental cat nap.
Again, the Reds deserve all the credit in the world popping out the casket right before it got lowered into the ground, but the Indians completely losing all forms of focus during the burial isn't exactly a great look for baseball. The idea that the man whose job it is to prepare the players with which a victory is to be trusted was about as attentive during a call to the bullpen as he is when his wife tells a work story would be alarming, if not for the idea that it seems like an extremely monotonous practice to partake in by mid-July.
J.R. Smith Joked About His Gaff In Game 1 Of The Finals, So It's A Good Thing Cavaliers' Fans Are Already Dead Inside
I'll tell you what, I'm glad that J.R. Smith made this joke when he did. I'd argue it's still a bit too soon to make light of an inexcusable act of stupidity that will somehow reign supreme over all his other inexcusable acts of stupidity in becoming synonymous with his illustriously tumultuous career. That said, this is really the best timing anyone could expect out of someone whose mind somehow wandered over the river and through the woods during the waning seconds of a tied NBA Finals game.
More importantly, those most prone to having their heart wrenched by this reminder already had it ripped out of their chest a little over a week ago. Like, is there any actual harm in twisting the knife in a zombie? Now that LeBron left, Cavaliers' fans are basically The Walking Dead if the undead just walked lifelessly among us as opposed to relentlessly trying to eat our innards. Can't really get too upset about a 51 point effort that went to more waste than J.R. Smith's brain as he literally sprinted away from a shot for the first time (and worst time) in his life when the person that dropped those 51 points already took his frustrations to a place where the weather can help ease them.
The castle was bound to crumble as soon as the King left it. I don't know that those who remained needed the court jester to use a shamelessly adorable prop to force self-deprecating jokes on them amongst the rubble, but it's not like the situation can possibly be made worse at this point. The town scapegoat that couldn't even cough without being lambasted as a spreader of locker room cancer for the last 4 years is now the heir apparent by which any semblance of the Cavaliers' respectability is to retained, so I have a hard time believing that their fans still have feelings to be hurt.
Basketball season is now just a time of year in which to watch 'The Block' on loop until their eyes bleed. That's a much better fate than re-suffering the anxiety of the following play over and over again, which is what they might feel inclined to do if they still had hope, faith, competitive spirit, or even interest...
Despite Being Forced Into Selling The Panthers Due To Millions Of Dollars Worth Of Sexual Harassment, Jerry Richardson's Statue Will Still Stand Tall
CharlotteObserver- In the final answer of his otherwise charming first press conference as the new owner of the Carolina Panthers, David Tepper said Tuesday he is “contractually obligated” to keep the 13-foot statue of former Panthers owner Jerry Richardson exactly where it stands outside the north gate of the stadium.
So Richardson turned out to have one final surprise in store for fans: A going-away present that means he will never quite go away at all.
The statue stays — Richardson insisted on it during negotiations. And because of that insistence, Richardson will remain in all his suited “glory” between two snarling black Panthers that are supposed to represent North and South Carolina.
I'm not going to lie to you, I laughed. I soon felt shame for doing so, but this self-aggrandizing display by someone who got pushed out of the cushiest of gigs for, at the very least, meeting the highest standard of scumbaggery in sports (your move, Donald Sterling) is so preposterously over-the-top that I couldn't help but find it funny at first. As a matter of fact, I should probably go easier on myself, since even the most trained of internet oddsmakers would consider this story to have a 50/50 shot of ending up satirical on initial analysis.
In retrospect, I don't know why I underrated the narcissism of someone that orchestrated the construction of his own 13 foot likeness and surrounded it with bronzed jungle cats. Still, the idea of an 81 year old man who had to pay victimized women and minorities a salary (and in a lot of cases, a settlement) for them to stomach spending time around him becoming the wrinkled face of vanity is enough to make Donald Trump tip his MAGA hat. For a disgraced figurehead to halt arbitration and demand that the most unrelentingly vicious of predators....and his pets remain erected in front of a stadium that no longer welcomes him before signing off on the forced sale of his pride and joy is egomania personified.
Jerry Richardson doesn't even care if he goes down in history as a racist pervert as long as his image stands tall in effigy as one with the Panthers. This negotiation was handled insanely poorly by whoever failed miserably in leveraging the prevalence of the #MeToo movement into the removal of an obnoxiously-sized statue honoring someone who, legally speaking, caused seven figures worth of emotional distress with his sexual harassment. However, the stipulation on which said deviant held uncompromising is undeniable proof that he is still shamelessly unapologetic. That creepy old fuck remaining immortalized is as stupid and unnecessary a reminder of organizational sins as you'll find, but at least the only Jerry Richardson that's still a fixture on the premises is ironically powerless to being objectified and provides quite the canvas for well-deserved defacement.
ESPN's Jon Sciambi Accidentally Called A Pitch From A Game He Was Watching On His Phone During The Dodgers/Angels Game He Was Actually Working
Now, that's what I call dedication to the craft! Filling hour after hour of dead air during a baseball season that can get pretty boring is an art, and Jon Sciambi is so devoted to painting the perfect picture that he can't even watch a game he's not calling without instinctively sharpening the tools of his trade. Say what you want about his yet-to-be-diagnosed ADD, but don't say that the guy who caught himself practicing during a break in the game treats broadcasting as more of a profession than a passion!
Considering this apparent propensity to just start blurting out exactly what he happens to be watching at any given time, I probably wouldn't enjoy drinking beers next to him in the cheap seats, much less companying him to the movies. That said, you can't ask for much more out of an announcer than a guy who might randomly break into giving the play-by-play of his day-to-day. Especially when said guy has the rare ability to laugh at himself despite making a mistake while working a job that is too often taken too seriously.
Ben Simmons Is Convinced His Ex Is Stalking Him And Kendall Jenner, Thus Proving He's Not Cut Out For Kardashian Life
TMZ- Ben Simmons believes his ex, Tinashe, has been tailing him and showing up at the same places he parties with gf Kendall Jenner ... and it's gotten so bad he's seriously thinking of significantly beefing up security.
Sources close to Simmons tell us ... Tinashe's been suspiciously popping up regularly at places he goes with Kendall ... way past the point of coincidence. You'll remember, the singer showed up at Delilah Thursday, and a couple weeks prior she surfaced at Poppy in WeHo when Ben was there.
We're told Ben is convinced Tinashe cannot accept the fact he ended their relationship and has moved on with Kendall. He believes she's showing up to keep tabs on him so she can see if there's a chink in the armor between him and Kendall.
Our sources say Ben thinks she's become so obsessive he doesn't want to take chances ... especially because of Kendall, and that's why he's talking about hiring extra muscle.
I don't want to be too critical of Ben Simmons here. Fearing the type of crazy ex-girlfriend that orchestrates run-in's in hopes of sabotaging your new relationship is totally normal. If I had his means, I might also try to put an end to the paranoia one surely experiences when a scorned women of their past starts popping up in the same place with a suspicious amount of frequency.
It's for that reason (amongst many, many others), however, that I don't have aspirations of dating into a relationship that will be broadcast on television. Seriously, I don't know who the Sixers' star thinks he's gotten into bed with, but he made quite the rookie mistake if he feels as though privacy is something he's still privy to. As if his decision to bolster his security team won't directly result in Kendall Jenner's family bolstering their camera crew. Like, what are we even talking about here? Light stalking? That might be considered a scandal in reality, but in "reality" it's considered a storyline. In the Kardashian world, publicly snitching on his ex for spying might actually be more frowned upon than her busting out the binoculars from the bar top. Kris Jenner probably has Tinashe on the payroll, and Ben Simmons is out here acting like he's in some regular ass relationship that's based on boundaries, trust, and mutual respect?
Poor bastard is trying to turn an attention whore into a housewife like she's the only fish in the sea when she and her sisters have been catching and releasing NBA players since before he was shooting jumpers with the wrong hand. Someone needs to break him out this tabloid-induced trance before he ends up single with a broken heart and 7,000 security guards.
Disappointment. Disbelief. Devastation. If you took all three of those depressing emotions, mixed them together, and seasoned them with far more salt than necessary then you'd have the strong dose of reality that Gordon Hayward was forced into choking down on video. From the very moment the sun shone off that first ball of helium it was awkwardly obvious that the Celtics' small forward resented its color. From the feigned enthusiasm of the initial reaction, to the balloon punt, to the cynical sarcasm of "daddy's alwaaays happy", the only ways in which Gordon Hayward could have made it more clear that he was hoping for a boy would have made that clip too explicit for a professional athlete (or his wife) to post on the internet.
I think it bears mentioning that we are talking about a guy that somehow managed to maintain most of his likability in throwing up the deuces to a small market team in NBA free agency. He knows what to say to appease the masses, and yet he was so outward in his inability to grin and bear that his wife had to question his level of excitement before the 30 second gender reveal reached it's conclusion. I legit think that, for at least a split second, he would have been more enthused to see a rabid animal poke its head of that box if only to keep alive his faith in finally fathering a son. That's how badly Gordon Hayward wants just one other boy in the house, and it would be nice if fate would intervene before he ends up raising an entire sisterhood as a starting five in hopes of continuing his basketball legacy.
Former Indiana QB, Zander Diamont, Said One Of His College Coaches Once Praised Hitler's Leadership Qualities
You know, as illiterate as he was in reading a room, this (now former) unnamed assistant coach at Indiana wasn't entirely wrong. Modeling his mentorship style after a man that orchestrated the targeted extermination of well over five million Jewish people and countless others that dared to so much as disagree with his beliefs doesn't exactly speak glowingly of him as a person or a professional. However, given the hierarchy of college football, history provides much worse (not be confused with more evil) leaders to look up to. Be it through horror or hive mind, Hitler was unquestionably successful in getting others to absorb his wrathful wish as their command. Unfortunately, you'd have to flat out lie to yourself to believe that, to a much lesser degree, some of the same scare tactics aren't used at a level of coaching that can occasionally border on the dictatorial.
To be clear, the nameless coach in question is undoubtedly an ignorant buffoon who's probably capped out his on upward mobility if spin-zoning the "positive" elements of the Holocaust was his best attempt at trying to rally players of all races, colors, creeds, and religions. Football inherently has more than enough of its own problems without sharing a sentence with genocide. Still, all he really did was invoke the obvious, which is that some of the most accomplished coaches in college football prescribe strictly to the "my way or the highway" approach. Hell, look no further than how quickly some of those very same coaches flame out of the NFL when forced to relinquish a portion of their power to players whose long overdue paychecks offer them the slightest bit of autonomy.
Now, implying that Hitler would have made for a heck of a coach if he focused his attention on running gassers on an undergraduate gridiron instead of inside enclosed chambers of the unlawfully imprisoned is as much of a stretch as referencing him as "great" in any context. That said, there's plenty of former Penn State football players that still believe in nothing more strongly than the innocence of the winningest coach in NCAA history who admittedly enabled a pedophile for decades on end. I wish Zander Diamont weren't overly optimistic in presuming that all "great" college coaches have emotional intelligence in common, but - sadly - it's naive to pretend that instituting a cult-like mentality that forces players to blindly follow as opposed to adapting hasn't worked out pretty damn well in the past.
Giants D-Lineman A.J. Francis Is Appropriately Furious With TSA For Allowing His Mother's Ashes To Spill Inside His Bag After Searching It
I don't want to make it sound like I'm siding with TSA here, as not taking particular precaution with what was obviously all that remained of a passenger's loved one is, as said passenger put it, asinine and irresponsible. I'm just saying that I'm not even remotely surprised by what the careless hands of the clueless are capable of. A.J. Francis has every right to be absolutely furious that an item as unmistakably invaluable as his mother's ashes was treated with just about as much negligence as...well...every other replaceable piece of luggage. Unfortunately, what he also has is an inordinate amount of faith in the common sense of airline workers.
I'd also be sick to my stomach if I were in his shoes, but my belly aching would have begun the second that bag left my sight. I would have had a lump in my throat before my baggage even came around the damn carousel to be claimed, for dealing with the troubles of TSA requires a "hope for the best, but expect the absolute worst" approach. I'm not blaming the Giants' defensive lineman, for the rules clearly state that the deceased are to be treated delicately. Unfortunately, those in charge of enforcing those rules just so happen to be the most disgruntled people in a place that's permeating with irritability at all times.
An important lesson was learned at the most heart-wrenching of time. You're only actually promised your own health and safety when traveling with hundreds of people by way of a steel tube tens of thousands of feet in the sky, and that's only because you won't be able to bitch and complain if that promise goes unfulfilled. Therefore, do everything in your power to keep anything of true importance on your person, as those that have to deal with every other person don't give a damn about you, your belongs, or - in the most extreme of cases - your late mother's memory. The following is both sad and true, but not even death can save you from being disrespected as a person while flying. I don't suspect that will change anytime soon.