A Washington Reporter Got Caught Reacting To The Barry Trotz News In The Background Of A Live Senate Hearing
I'd be lying if I told you I fell within 35 channels of being tuned into a Senate hearing, so Lord only knows what I did or didn't miss (seeing as everyone else who watched was probably sleeping through it with their eyes pried open). That said, from what little I caught, I think it's fair to say that we should be applauding Kelly Cohen for not interrupting what was a shockingly slow moving discussion with an on-air aneurysm.
Yet another circular conversation about Russia and collusion that, in all likelihood, leads nowhere but the next circular conversation about Russia and collusion is enough to make even the most savvy of political savant turn into a zombie. So, while the shock was written across her face, I'd say she did a great job containing her heart from leaping out of her chest. That was definitely a possible outcome of stumbling upon the news that the head coach of a Stanley Cup champion was walking away from the organization less than two weeks after bringing them to the promised land for the first time ever while otherwise catatonic.
Now, my jaw didn't exactly hit the floor when I found out, as Todd Reirden appeared ripe to push Barry Trotz out the door all the way up until Barry Trotz was presumed to have blocked said door with a three foot tall trophy that might forever smell like Alexander Ovechkin's beer-soaked beard, but I also hadn't been lulled one step short of a coma at the time. To consider what Kelly Cohen experienced to be a swing of emotions would be to consider the pirate ship ride at your local carnival that leaves your stomach firmed fixed in your esophagus to be a "swing". Therefore, one must credit a professional reporter for handling a taser-like jolt to the system with as much grace as did the head coach that respectfully resigned when his unbelievably fair contract demands weren't met.
I'm fully aware that this was a case of San Jose clearing some cap space prior to free agency by unloading one of their relatively bad contracts on a desperate organization that might have accepted nothing more than a bottle of prescription pills as a cure to hockey's most heinous headache. I know they only traded for Mike Hoffman to turn around and maximize the diminishing value of a player who may have sabotaged his career by (allegedly) proposing to Cruella DeVille's even more evil step-daughter. What I don't know is why the Senators were worried about trading a ticking time-bomb to a team in a division that they aren't in any way, shape, or form ready to compete in regardless, but credit to the Sharks for leveraging a laughably run organization's ineptitude against them. I suppose we shouldn't have expected Ottawa to get themselves out from between a rock and a hard place without their totaled reputation absorbing another dent or two in the half-assed pursuit of retaining Erik Karlsson.
Anyway, how can you not appreciate this move? Even if you had a high-level of interest in keeping the Sharks from swarming John Tavares come July 1st, you'd at least have to find it hilarious that Mike Hoffman and his multiple overcharges worth of baggage were (at least in spirit) sequestered to three separate and extremely distant reaches of the hockey world in just over two hours time. I don't even care that it was the circumstantial result of one team's diligent management, because the symbolism of San Jose shipping (allegedly) the world's most wrathful WAG as far away as possible before she even got anywhere near close enough to poison their lunch, never mind their locker room, is just so perfectly fitting.
I can't say I'm surprised that a team that has trouble attracting outside talent, like the Panthers, decided to accept the (alleged) risk of a walking, talking internet virus when they stumbled upon the power play porn of a proven 25-goal scorer. I'm just glad that we'll always have the morning in which it appeared that Mike Hoffman and the big ball of (alleged) human feces chained to his ankle were getting passed around the NHL quicker than the mumps virus. If only during a fleeting moment of weakness, it gave me hope that some franchises have it in them to overlook deadly accurate one-timers if it means potentially infecting their team culture with (allegedly) the most reprehensible of two-timers.
Good luck to the Panthers in their blind trust of the talent. I can't help but think that Mike Hoffman would rather his long-time girlfriend get presented with a clean hard-drive as opposed to a clean slate, though the good news is that the staff at the BB&T Center is highly trained in rodent control...
People Are Freaking Out Over Myles Turner's Unbelievable Body Transformation, But There's Only One Problem...
To be honest, I already feel weird about dissecting the before and after pictures of a half-naked professional athlete that, had he spent the last 5 weeks laid up on his couch eating a variety of cheeses by hand, would only stop running circles around me to jump clear over me in every form of competition that didn't involves ice skates. That being said, all the praise being heaped upon a freakishly long and athletic NBA player that admittedly looks like he's dedicated himself to the weight room this offseason has me wondering whether or not people understood the aesthetics of this scene from Fast Times At Ridgemont High...
What I mean to imply is that while whatever Myles Turner is doing from a health perspective is clearly working for him, but so is the glare glimmering off his ludicrously lathered body. There's a reason why there's more modeling shoots held on beaches than in deserts, and I'm pretty sure it's not entirely due to availability. If someone is drenched in anything, including sweat, while their picture is being taken in complimentary lighting they are simply guaranteed to look more in shape. I'm pretty gyms are keeping the mirror industry afloat, and it's due to that very premise.
Now, none of that is an indictment of the Pacers' forward's training program, which has obviously increased in intensity. It's just an indisputable fact. Hit him head-to-toe with a hair dryer for a few minutes, and - while we'd still notice a more defined stomach and jawline - it probably wouldn't appear as though Myles Turner were chiseled out of granite. I respect his hustle in upping the expectations of his fans, but to believe this is more of a full transformation than a tune-up you'd also have to believe that summer bodies are in no way visually aided by the sun, swimming, and tanning. Myles Turner's physique is top notch, but to look like he just pulled a baby from a burning building while wearing nothing but gym shorts he had to get greased up by the metaphorical fire.
Cam Newton Getting In The Face Of A Teenage Heckler Is Proof That You Really Can't Win With Kids These Days
While understanding that getting in the face of a teenager isn't the greatest of look for someone who is not at all unfamiliar with the occasional awful one, I think one aspect of this video that's flying under the radar is the ruthlessness of the next generation.
I mean, not for nothing, but Cam Newton responded to a wrath of ridicule by lurching down in a fashion that could only be duplicated by the Mega-Ultra-Super-Duper-Saurus in 'Jurassic Park 10: The 9th Return Of The Failed Experiment'. One of the most physically imposing athletes in all of sports basically created the moment of tension that's meant to draw a jarring juxtaposition between the sheer size difference between a genetically-engineered dinosaur and its human prey...and it barely bought him a second free of Super Bowl jokes.
It's expected of a professional athlete to ignore the occupational hazard of hecklers as he jogs in and out of stadiums full of dumb drunkards, but that's not at all what we are talking about here. It sure looks to me as though Cam Newton graciously volunteered his time to help mold the young players that could, in theory, eventually replace him...only to end up getting chirped non-stop by an overly aggressive pack of annoying little brothers.
Turning a deaf ear to those that wouldn't even care if they were scared into publicly wetting their pants so long as getting an NFL MVP's attention netted them the false validation of retweets definitely would have behooved Cam Newton. However, I would imagine you can only be reminded of one of the lowest moments of your career but so many times before irritably reacting to a peanut gallery full of pip-squeaks wondering aloud what you got Von Miller for Father's Day.
Personally, I don't think Cam Newton has a damn thing to apologize for. No when even doing right by the future of football proved to be a thankless endeavor that left him under attack by the next crop of attention-starved kids that are self-aware enough to know they aren't in danger, but shameless enough to remain immune to the lasting effects of intimidation in feasting on someone else's fame.
Barry Trotz Ultimately Upped His Local Legend, His Salary, And His Cachet By Stepping Down As Head Coach Of A Stanley Cup Champion
The following admittedly feels like a weird thing to utter about a coach that, had he chosen to stay with the organization that was left lying to itself year after disappointing year before he helped lead them to the promised land, would have spent the entirety of his two-year extension working with a leash long enough to lightly jog circles around every single one of his peers. Still, dare I say that Barry Trotz' decision to briskly walk out from behind the bench of the Washington Capitals two weeks after they rose the Stanley Cup for the first time in the franchise's 44-year history was somewhat...relatively...easy? Sentimentality aside, scoffing at a small bump in salary (albeit contracted) that spoke volumes about the team's preferred direction as well as left him well below market value for any coach, never mind one coming off a championship, was to be...well...expected.
I mean, leave it to the franchise that was previously allergic to success to only achieve it after putting a successor in place, but the truth of the matter is that the newest coach on the unemployment line just won his way into a win/win situation by choosing to lose his job. If you want a look at a man that will forever be welcomed back in Washington D.C. then look not through the hallowed halls of The White House, but rather at the neckless wonder that appeared damn near Presidential in how calm and collected he remained throughout the entirety of a title run that presented no shortage of adversity. Barry Trotz was basically Joe Cool in every single postseason press conference. You have to imagine that was due, in large part, to the acceptance that not even all the ice that was used to chill the championship champagne would have completely extinguished the heat of Todd Reirden's seemingly inevitable promotion from singeing at his ass hairs. Barry Trotz was playing with house money for the first time since his arrival in Washington, and not only will he have potentially tripled his earnings when the cards fall in regards to his future, but he'll forever have ingratiated himself into an irreproachable past in the nation's capital.
Judging by their social media presence throughout the last two weeks, the Capitals might not even be sober enough to have a Stanley Cup hangover until the next All Star break. Yet, the man that has to answer to expectations that will be innately upped won't be the one that forever solidified his place amongst the limited lore of Washington sports in graciously leaving them behind. Once you reach the peak of your profession, you're typically left choosing between riding that high downward or going out on top. Due to a mutual willingness to move on, Barry Trotz gets to pick and choose the best of both those worlds. Come the time in which the possibility of an unlikely repeat is being discussed, he might very well still be enjoying an extensive vacation while watching his value gain interest on the open market.
These are undeniably strange circumstances, but they are guaranteed to work out in favor of the guy that just put a ring on the 27 Dresses of sports' cities while becoming the league's most eligible bachelor. I can't say for sure what his plans are, but if Barry Trotz can stomach some time off then he could easily use this honeymoon period to prove - once and for all - that it is possible to have your cake and eat it too.
You Won't Believe This, But Junior Galette Has FINALLY Found Himself "Humbled" After Insanely Turning Down A 2-Year, 10 Million Dollar Deal From The Redskins
I have so, so many questions. The main one, of course, being how a professional athlete who followed up his second straight 10+ sack season by all-but-forcing his release from a $41 million dollar contract with organizational slander, domestic abuse charges (that were backed by video evidence), and enough character issues to make Hank Moody look like Phil Dunphy by comparison was able to avoid humility until now. Junior Galette went from going undrafted, to being (laughably, in hindsight) elected team captain, to getting cut, to spend ding two full seasons nursing career-altering injuries, to moderately contributing for the first since time since 2014, to scoffing at a multi-year deal that was worth well more than what he actually deserved. I guess I'm glad he ran into the reality check that is the lack of a paycheck, but how modesty didn't come close to crossing his mind until now is about as unfathomable as the fact that Drew Rosenhaus let him leave $10 million on the table while he was on an especially slippery downside of his tumultuous career. Junior Galette now has exponentially more NFL logos tatted on him than teams interested in him, but that was somehow predictable despite him possessing a skill set that's at a league-wide premium.
Maybe it's just the scorned fan in me that had to sit idly by as the Saints spent years resurrecting themselves up from under the demons of dead dollars' past, but I'm pretty sure the last thing anyone wants to hear about is how grateful Junior Galette is. We're talking about a guy that was perhaps the league's longest standing unapologetic asshole. A player that showed zero appreciation for the God-given talent he had on the field by constantly pissing into the winds of the prosecution off of it. It just feels insanely disingenuous for him to try to bail from his wave of unabashed arrogance now that it's finally come crashing down on top of him.
After compiling one more sack (3) than he did season-ending injury (2) throughout his three seasons in Washington, Junior Galette turned down a contract that was at least 2x as long and 3x as valuable as any other team would have offered. I'm of the opinion that a professional athlete is worth the max someone will pay them, but - considering the entirety of his past -it's impossible to view that negotiation as anything other than Junior Galette removing his belt and whipping a gift horse in the mouth.
If nothing else, it's an indisputable sign that he learned absolutely nothing throughout one of the most up-and-down NFL careers that I can remember. So forgive me if I'm not ready to throw him a graduation party, as it's pretty clear he's only self-proclaiming his decency diploma in hopes that he'll finagle his way into another job after doing everything possible to get booted out of school.
TheComeback- With the Milwaukee Brewers trailing the Phillies 8-5 heading into the eighth inning Sunday, manager Craig Counsell called on a 25-year-old reliever named Adrian Houser, who had been called up from Triple-A earlier in the day. Houser jogged in from the bullpen, took the hill, threw some warm-ups pitches and then… vomited. Right there behind the mound.
After a visit from the Brewers’ training staff, some water and a brief delay, Houser re-assumed the rubber, and promptly allowed a double to Jorge Alfaro. He induced Jesmuel Valentin to ground out to third base but was then hit with another round of sickness and deposited his lunch on the mound.
With Brewers fans predictably chanting “puke and rally,” Houser served up an RBI double to Scott Kingery before retiring the final two batters of the inning, to head back to the dugout having allowed one run on two hits and a whole lot of vomit.
More so than being an unsightly display of regurgitation, that was a blatant reminder that you've successfully ignored more calls from your own mother than you have from a weak stomach. Even the most ironclad of insides have been put in a helpless position by impending hurl, but nothing highlights how powerless aggressive nausea leaves us quite like watching a 25 year old pitcher make a complete mess of the stage after finally receiving a call-up to 'The Show'.
Of course no one would choose to vom on the mound in front of tens of thousands of on-lookers. Still, if it were at all possible, you'd think that the minor-leaguer whose career has already outlasted that of the Greyhound that was forced into early retirement by the amount of miles he spent on it would work especially hard to avoid having the majority of his professional impression made on the Brewers' janitorial staff.
Credit to Adrian Houser for laughing off the unforgiving feeling of what was sure to come when his hands instinctual clutched his knees in response to his throat moistening. He might not have done all that much to prolong his stay in the Majors, but in having only a relative amount of success powering through a puke & rally he gave a glimpse of the future to all minors.
Even the most whistle-happy of official would agree that hit was delivered to an offensive party that more negligent than defenseless. That said, if only because the pale lower half of that streaker's body was only made more unflattering by laying lifeless, I think most would endorse the throw of a blanket, never mind a flag.
Fair or foul, if deterring those that wander the middle the field too causally is the main purpose of blindside hits then, judging by an action shot that would best be captioned by "I've made a huge mistake", that particular one got its point across. If only the culprit/victim had applied the foresight he showed in not wearing shoes to avoid having his cleats suffer the same fate as his hat to his on-field focus then perhaps he could have been safely ridden out of bounds by a security guard. Oh well, as long as he didn't suffer any short or long term memory loss then at least he learned a valuable lesson. Don't stand on the tracks and take your eyes off the train...especially when you run the risk of having your brain injury broadcast as broadly as the thanklessness of your boxer briefs.
After Getting Blitzkrieg'd By Mexico In The World Cup, The Front Page Of This German Newspaper Sure Looks Stupid In Retrospect
It's ironic that the joke of questionable taste involves an unexpected wall, because some might say the German editors that green lit political prodding in their sports-based front page really walked face first into that one. Taking a shutout loss to a massive underdog like Mexico must have felt like taking a stack of bricks to the face, and who better to absorb that blow than the country whose players apparently took their directive on shameless overconfidence from one of their own publications. I mean, never mind tempting fate, Germany basically tickled Karma's taint by invoking an international controversy for laughs as if the skeletons in their closet are all smiles. The jokes that could have been levied in response to a wall reference that was more conventional than clever were plentiful, but none of them would have been as funny as the unexpected win that could best be encapsulated by the headline "Sorry Germany, today we left a staunch support group hailing a global power right into its untimely demise".
Phil Mickelson Went Full-Blown "F*ck It" In Whacking His Rogue Putt Back Up The Green While It Was Still Moving
Literally everyone else who wishes the sport would take itself even slightly less seriously:
Let's just get the obvious out of way, Phil Mickelson acted immaturely in a way that was unbecoming of his stature in the sport of golf. You'd be completely justified in calling him a baby, or a sore loser, or even a mental midget...assuming, of course, that you're cool with being a hypocrite.
Perhaps we should hold the pros to a higher standard, but considering Lefty's ball was leaving one of the many greens that kicked some of the best golfers in the world right in the Shinnecock, I couldn't have found it more amusing that he chose to take the common man's mulligan. In fact, after hearing some of this weekend's reviews, all his haters should just be happy that he didn't do so with a Bud Light tallboy spilling out of his off-hand. I couldn't be speaking from more personal experience in saying the following. People that are already +10 on the day don't cheat, they check out. That was pure frustration manifesting itself in the most relatable "fuck it" that you may ever see on the PGA Tour and I, for one, appreciated having my own on-course adolescence legitimized by a legend.
All critics should consider this, it takes nothing more than a scroll back through your own personal birthday registry for a reminder that the one day a year in which your peers allow you to get away with acting younger is the same day in which you turn a year older. Therefore, we shouldn't be debating whether or not Doug should kick him off the tour, but rather focusing on trying to fit 48 candles on his ice cream cake and a bright red rubber sleeve on his putter head...
It's Phil's party and he'll lie if he wants to. Which is exactly what he did when he claimed it was the rules that governed his decision to whack his wayward ball back onto the green, as opposed to the same type of temper that's led to no less than 10 billion adult tantrums...
Kawhi Leonard Has Asked Out Of San Antonio, Finally Giving A Fate To What's Been An Awfully Weird Feud
I have to be honest, other than this serving as a reinforcement of the notion that this NBA offseason stands to be more entertaining than the actual basketball that preceded it, I'm not too sure what to make of this news. That, of course, isn't because I've been blind to the writing that the Spurs' two-way super-cyborg has burnt into the wall with his lifeless stare as he remained at odds with a medical staff that cleared him to play months ago, but rather because I've never known what to make of all this.
Maybe the match was just better in theory than it was in execution, because Gregg Popovich and Kawhi Leonard have always seemed like the perfectly joyless pair. The idea that the more reserved of the two parties actually "spoke up" and asked out of what's been the most consistently solid culture in sports throughout the last two decades due to a lack of trust fails to register with me. Granted, it was probably more of a "blink twice and power down if you want to be traded" type situation, but it's still weird that a relationship between the organization that's set the bar for sustained success and the mild-mannered spawn of man and machine became fractured beyond repair. Especially since the latter is literally built in the updated mold of Tim Duncan by being a humble, hard-working player on both ends of the court whose skill set was tailor made to dominate during the era in which he was discharged. We all should have listened to Will Smith, because apparently even the most reliable of robot is capable of going rogue.
I sort of feel as though this is the sports equivalent of that breakup between the "perfect couple" in your social circle that leaves you wondering if true love actual exists. The main difference being that instead of giving off an aura of genuine happiness, the Spurs and Kawhi Leonard always seemed to share the same deadpan desire to win that was too insatiable for anything more than a sporadic smile. I guess it's true that there's really no such thing as unhappily ever after, and those that do the best job making you believe there is are doomed to eventually let you down.
The seemingly inevitable movement of another star player will increase the dramatics of what's sure to be an eventful NBA offseason exponentially. Still, as much as I'm excited for the spin-off of this soap opera, I'll miss the staunch s(p)urliness of the original series. Opposites must attract, because on the outside looking in there didn't seem to be a better fit for Kawhi Leonard from a personality perspective than San Antonio.
The Catcher Was The Collateral Damage When An Umpire In The Korean League (Quite Literally) Punched Out A Batter On Strikes
I typically keep a feather tucked in the craw for instances in which officials take it upon themselves steal the spotlight, but I think I have to soften my stance on behalf of those whose judgement calls govern their respective game on a bi-minute basis. Being a home plate umpire has to be one of the most thankless jobs in all of sports. Therefore, in the rare instance that one gets a little too impassioned in his punch out I think we just need to consider it an occupational hazard of dealing with a startling disparity between things to get yelled at for and things to get excited about for hours on end.
I mean, even as the catcher in this situation you'd to be a real prick to get pissed about a swift jab of justice that was in response to a call going your way. If you ask me, that pitch was a wee bit high, so the perhaps the player who tried to frame it should really be more outwardly appreciative of how anxious big blue was to hammer home the nails in hanging that 'K'. After all, happily fixing your helmet is a better fate than having to duck and cover from the type of aimless bat flip that would leave American traditionalists covering their children's eyes and writing nastily-worded letters to the editor...
Hugh Freeze Is Oh-So-Generously Volunteering His Time To Help Run A Faith-Based Redemption Retreat, And It Only Costs Between $3,250 and $3,950 To Attend!
There will be a lot of people that scoff at the idea of Hugh Freeze as a life coach, and rightfully so. After all, we are talking about a guy that got fired as a coach because he's not at all ethical as it pertains to life. Seeing as he's less than a year removed being found out as paying for both players and prostitutes while on the recruiting trail, you don't have to do too much digging to find a reason to suspect that he might not have all that much clout as a lecturer of lawful and lust-less living.
What he does have, presumably, is enough local celebrity to charge vulnerable and damaged football fans an egregious sum of money to essentially accompany him through rehab. Say what you want about the moralistic merits of the special guest of this "faith-based retreat", but - assuming more than a handful of people pay to be preached at poolside - you can't say that he doesn't know how to leverage his past into a much bigger future. That's more of a spot-on a description of this inexplicably exorbitant endeavor than I could have ever dreamt up. If only throughout that one tagline, there was no false advertisement there!
If a recently disgraced college football coach is able to make a couple thousand dollars out of little to no sense then, if nothing else, he has what it takes to grease the wheels in profiting off "personal growth". The idea that you'll come out on the other side of a weekend long spa sermon from a snake-oil salesman with a cleansed soul and a reinvigorated perspective is laughable to see the least. Though, for what it's worth (which is apparently between $3,000 and $4,000), if failing is the fastest route to learning then Hugh Freeze might be the most educated of expert in every single objective on that checklist. Still not sure I'd trust him, of all people, to teach them to anyone, but I guess that's why they are calling it a faith-based retreat.
As If The Following Wasn't As Likely As The Sun Rising This Morning, The Raiders Are Worried That A Suspension Could Be Looming For Martavis Bryant
To be honest, I wasn't sure this was even worth writing about, as it hardly could be described as news just yet. In theory, a potential season-long suspension of a player that was just traded for a third round pick coming down the urinary tract before said player has even put on pads for his new team is pretty damn noteworthy, but the concern caused the mere possibility of Martavis Bryant facing discipline? Yeaaaaah, not so much.
It may not have come across the ticker as such, but the acceptance of the condition that Jon Gruden will never get a good night's rest when wondering what his new wideout is up to is what eventually sealed the deal for an endlessly talented freak of an athlete. Being unable to stay on the field because he can't stay off the weed was the risk involved in luring him to California, of all places, in the offseason. I'm sure the worry is more warranted than usual and that the Raiders have been tipped off by a league that's probably one tainted test away from demanding that Martavis Bryant wear a diaper and mail in his dirties to their HQ. Still, it's very telling that the Raiders fearing his suspension could have easily been the result of them waking up out of a nightmare in a cold sweat on a random Spring Saturday.
Whether or not the use of something as harmless as marijuana should still be gradually closing the limited earning windows of professional athletes that put the health of their mind, body, and brain on the line in the year 2018 is decidedly up for debate. However, Martavis Bryant being one of "prevailing" examples of a zero tolerance rule (no matter how dumb) leaving a player's promising career in constant jeopardy is decidedly not.
Behold About Two Dozen People (Including Tiger Woods And Justin Thomas) Desperately Searching The Rough For Dustin Johnson's Ball
And on the extensive list of things that separates you, I, or any other weekend warrior from the top golfers in all the world, we have a new difference atop the leaderboard. Unfortunately for those, much like myself, that pride themselves on drinking just enough to vehemently blame the booze, a complete inability to judge just about every factor that might contribute to the flight pattern of a ball has officially been pushed into second place. It's replacement as the most stark contrast between the lives of pros and joes is, somewhat surprisingly, not having a goddamn search party at our disposal when said ball happens to land wherever the wind might take it.
For a quick second, I almost considered that scene to be the most relatable moment in U.S. Open history, seeing as I misplace more shots than I take (an unusual amount of) pride in. However, the truth of the matter is that Tiger Woods and Co. just looked for Dustin Johnson's ball more diligently than I have ever looked for one of my own. Like, that's a thirty second clip and if it were taken of me in the same circumstance I would have crammed in 4-6 aimless whacks at the brush, a dejected endeavor back into a rapidly depleting sleeve of balls, and a generous underhand toss that fell about 15 yards up the fairway but not far enough onto it that I'd have to explain myself to anyone. To be honest, if I actually found out where half my tee shots ended up then I'd probably just crack beers in the clubhouse instead, but for that 15-second span in which I'm actually determined to find my ball it would be nice to have around 30 people matching that intensity.
The Packers Linebacker Coach Met With The Media, And I'm Fairly Certain He Was Forced To Do So At Gunpoint
Contrary to his "I've been stuck in the same damn cubical for the last four decades"-like demeanor, I actually couldn't be more certain that Winston Moss loves his job as linebacker coach for a prestigious organization like the Green Bay Packers. That might sound stupid seeing as he went out of his to suppress anything that could even accidentally be mistaken for a smile, but he'd have to be content with his current position to completely sabotage his own upward mobility. Somewhere between the time he interviewed to become the head coach of the Detroit Lions and now, Winston Moss must have decided that a promotion is not his priority, seeing as he'd make Bill Belichick look like an open book by comparison if he weren't four floors away from being placed on the same shelf.
Trust me, I'm not usually one to hop on board the "journalists have a job to do too!" train, but it was just simply inefficient not to kill two birds with one stone by throwing them a bone when the one he had stuck up his ass was so readily available. We're talking about a mini-camp here. It's sunny, the stakes are low, and the only real news is a failure to appear at all open to giving any whatsoever. For that reason I'm stuck siding with the meddlesome media, as the least I can offer a reporter who turned into a nagging girlfriend out of neglect is some combination of sympathy and pity. Somehow, that's exponentially more than Winston Moss gave him by answering easy questions with nothing more than irritability.
Oh well, at least we can be certain that the questions from those with which he chose to a dick for no apparent reason won't stand to get anymore difficult when he actually has his job performance to answer to...
Dabo Swinney Came To The Defense Of One Of His Players Who Posed Next To A Salesman In Front Of A $200,000 Sports Car
LBS- Clemson wide receiver Tee Higgins found himself in some hot water earlier this week when a car salesman shared a photo of him on social media posing in front of an exotic car, but head coach Dabo Swinney defended his player over the situation.
After the photo went viral, Higgins’ mother took to social media to insist her son could never afford a $200,000 car and doesn’t even have a job. Higgins said he had no knowledge that his image would be used in a promotion, and the NCAA sent the dealership a cease-and-desist and chose not to sanction the receiver.
On Wednesday, Swinney defended Higgins and said someone was taking advantage of the youngster for publicity.
“That’s the world we live in. It is what it is. I think everything’s an opportunity to learn,” Swinney said, via Grace Raynor of The Post and Courier. “He’s one of the best kids that you’ll ever have and be around and it just kind of comes with the territory,” Swinney said. “You learn from it, but obviously there’s a lot of what do you call it — fish bait? Or click bait? Isn’t that what they call it, click bait? Trying to get some story.
“That’s just the world that we live in. So you’ve got to be smart and hope that you can just avoid those types of situations that create false perceptions. But as long as you do what’s right, you ain’t gotta worry about it.”
Ugh, those damn fish baiters are at it again. Just casting a bunch of lines in the direction of young, naive athletes in hopes that they can get a bite from a soon-to-be college star and reel in some excess publicity by way of an impressionable teenager that's willing to trade an obvious photo-op for a ride in a fancy sports car. Here's a rhetorical question, have they no shame?!?
Now, I don't want to kill a kid for taking the bait of keys to a McLaren Spider, but I do find it at least mildly concerning that he wasn't able to recognize it as such. After all, if you hung that greaseball of a worm in the water then the stink would have repelled even the most senseless of sea creatures. All it really should have taken was one look at the walking, talking stereotype standing next to him for Tee Higgins to realize he was being taken advantage of.
The slicked back hair that was somehow completely oblivious to the receding line from which it came? The loose dress clothes that fit his profession better than they fit the Marshall's manakin he bought them off of? The sly smirk and a thumbs up that might as well have a rattle attached to it as it is the universal sign of a complete snake? I've never been a local celebrity so I've never been leeched off of, but someone whose office could be put on wheels and relocated to a neighboring county within the hour has parasite written all over him.
I appreciate Dabo Swinney coming to the defense of one of his players, but I actually disagree with the notion that Tee Higgins had to be smart to see how this was going to play out publicly. Hopefully he learned his lesson and goes on to fulfill his limitless potential, but it probably couldn't hurt to prioritize working on his awareness before he accidentally runs the wrong route into an NCAA infraction. They won't have to pray too hard on his downfall if he keeps dancing with the type of person whose business card would read 'The Devil' if it were at all accurate...
Now that the buzz has (presumably) worn off on what's been a week long bender for a Washington Capitals' club whose tolerance has been built up by offseason after offseason of having to drink away their second round sorrows, this sobering story is long overdue.
The fact that even the most tragic of catastrophes tend to have but a short-term staying power in both our minds and our hearts is a sad truth, but it's a truth nonetheless. The bus crash that took the lives of sixteen kids and coaches, the health of thirteen others that were also pursuing their passion, the innocence (and much, much more) of their families and friends, and the peace of mind of countless people with even the loosest of ties to the team, the city, and the sport happened a little over two months ago. Yet, to even the most compassionate of unattached fan, I'd bet the wounds don't seem anywhere close to that fresh. The hockey world showed an overwhelming amount of support for a disaster that could have easily effected any one of us, and it still feels as though it came and went too quickly.
So credit to Chandler Stephenson for recognizing that the small Canadian town with which he shared a province growing up could still use a small reason to smile as it's still very much in mourning. For as relatable as the celebratory "boys will be boys"-style binge drinking has been, the unifying power of hockey is that much greater a reflection of its sense of community. The Capitals' forward doesn't seemed to have forgotten that, as it sounded as though Saskatchewan never left his mind as he achieved his lifelong dream of raising the Stanley Cup. Humboldt deserves a day with hockey's ultimate prize, as the strength that its survivors have shown says just as much about as the sport as the tens of thousands of sticks that were left leaning on porches.
SECCountry- When former Kentucky safety Marcus Walker was arrested at 4:40 a.m. on May 24 in Lexington on drug trafficking charges, police found $430 in cash in his pockets.
After a search, $70,312 was found in a bag by a closet and another $25,000 was found in a box in the top-floor bedroom of a townhome he shared.
During the search, police found 52.86 grams of suspected powder cocaine in a kitchen cabinet along with digital scales and packaging material. More than 5 pounds of marijuana was found throughout the house — in a water heater closet, a counter next to the stove, under a bed and in a backpack.
Walker, 21, was arrested and booked into the Fayette County Detention Center on charges of trafficking marijuana and cocaine. His roommate, Tavon Wells, faces the same charges. Walker was released on bond the next day.
Walker, from Lake Wales, Fla., was dismissed by Kentucky coach Mark Stoops less than a week after his arrest. He recorded 5 tackles in 12 games last season, contributing mostly on special teams.
Police were initially dispatched to the home at 11:04 p.m. on May 23 in response to a reported disorder, according to an affidavit for a warrant to search the townhome. A dispatcher heard a woman say she had been hit by a male subject, and the front window of the townhome had been broken, the affidavit said. It’s not clear from the report who was involved, but Walker opened the door when officers arrived and said that Wells and his girlfriend had left the residence after an argument.
“Inside the door, the living room was in a state of disarray with all the furniture and television strewn across the floor along with marijuana, cash, and blood,” the affidavit said.
One officer observed three clear bags in plain view, “approximately the size of a soccer ball full of marijuana.” Outside, several $20 bills and baggies of marijuana were lying on the ground in front of the residence, according to the report.
I got to be honest here. This just seems like a lack of commitment on the part of Marcus Walker. With how out of whack his priorities were, it was merely a matter of time before he got himself into trouble by spreading himself too thin.
I mean, not to encourage drug distribution amongst our youth, but to be that deep in the game he had to make a pretty definitive decision as to what mattered to him most, and it definitely wasn't his stature as a college football player. If you ask me, with nearly $100K in the cut and just a handful of special teams tackles to his name, the choice as to what to pursue was as clear as the baggies he was using to peddle premium powder.
As unfortunate as it may be, Kentucky's backup safety was far more likely to become Tony Montana than Tony Jefferson, so devoting the amount of time and energy required to play SEC football while dealing felonious counts of drugs was simply irresponsible. In fact, you can even make a weak argument that his social connections wouldn't have led to both an on-sight domestic incident and the most self-incriminating crime scene imaginable if he had simply given up his side hustle as a student-athlete. After all, who even needs the camaraderie of sports or benefits of schooling when you're in a class of your own as an on-campus supplier? Certainly not the guy whose teammate's relationship troubles turned his apartment into a treasure hunt for a drug hound as opposed to a fully functioning trafficking operation!
After The Mets Continued To Make All The Wrong Kinds Of History, Todd Frazier Apologized To Jacob deGrom For Their Lack Of Run Support
In almost all cases in which the wrongdoing is not willful, I would say it's extremely unnecessary for one professional athlete to flatly apologize to another as it's generally understood that those who get paid millions to play sports are trying their best. It can typically be interpreted, through both common sense and non-verbal communication, who is letting who down, so I'd imagine that a verbal atonement really only stands to somehow makes things even more awkward in an already contentious clubhouse.
In this case, however, I would say it's extremely unnecessary for Todd Frazier to flatly apologize to Jacob deGrom until there's been at least one sliver of evidence that he's happened upon a solution. Apparently it's easier said than done, but perhaps the guy who struck out three times in a 2-0 loss should take a crack at making some contact before offering condolences. Nothing comes off as more disingenuous than repeatedly apologizing for the same damn breach of trust, and...well...just take a look at this shit...
At this point, any Mets' hitter who tries to make amends with Jacob deGrom is the baseball equivalent of a "sex addict" saying sorry to his wife while he reeks of latex and has another woman's lipstick on his collar. Todd Frazier may have had all the right intentions, but so does the alcoholic father who stops at the bar for one single beer on the way home from work. To put it mildly, the entire lineup is way, way, way past any sort of verbal penance. There's no amount of 'Hail Marys' or 'Our Fathers' that can possibly make up for the sins of a team that has just straight up whiffed behind ten acts of a God-like arm, so it's time to work on fixing things in the batter's box as opposed to the confessional booth.
Actions speak louder than words, so I wouldn't even blame Jacob deGrom if he were no more than seven shutout innings in a low-scoring loss away from demanding that one of his many underwhelming teammates literally fall on an actual sword as a selfless sacrifice to the Angels In The Outfield. That might seem excessive, but the Mets' offense has been rendered way too impotent for far too long not to take tangible steps to erecting their ace's spirits.