Just So There's No Confusion, Jabari Parker Wants Everyone To Know He Doesn't Plan On Taking On Any Defensive Responsibilities In Chicago
Look, it's patently absurd for a wing player who is getting a fairly pricey second chance to prove that he's not a massive disappointment to pooh-pooh the importance of at least 50% of his performance. It just is. No one was expecting Jabari Parker to show up in Chicago looking like the second coming of Scottie Pippen, but - as our old friend Chubbs might so delicately put it - that unwillingness to fix an obvious flaw in his game was "spoken like a true asshole"...
But hey, at least now we know what led to a 23 year old second overall pick being left to collect dust on the free agent market until mid-July. Not hard to see why things didn't work out in Milwaukee when Jabari Parker apparently views professional basketball the exact same way that insecure hockey fans view professional basketball. Poor guy has been blindly roaming around the defensive end of the floor wondering why everyone else on his team appears to be exerting energy when stopping the other team from scoring isn't boldly identified as a job responsibility in any of their contracts. Talk about a miscommunication! The Bulls let the ink dry on 2 year, $40 million dollar deal and they forgot to include the "please try when you don't have the ball in your hands" stipulation, how could they be so negligent?!?
Oh well, according to the most reliable source (himself), inexcusable defensive lapses are to all current NBA players as a little bit of weed usage is to the group of stoned teenagers in an anti-drug commercial anyway. If evvvvveryone is doing it, Jabari Parker might as well put 20 million dollars worth of effort into his offense going forward!
I hope that means a hell of a lot more repetitions since those "strengths" couldn't even carry him past his rookie deal with the Bucks. However, on the bright side, not having any qualms with showing zero urgency half the time he's on the floor drastically brings down his chances of suffering another career-threatening injury...before the end of his career is threatened by defensive disregard regardless.
I think it's safe to say that Kawhi Leonard and the San Antonio Spurs owe a lot to each other. The former being drafted by an organization with a decorated past of developing players that ultimately provided fertile grounds for which he was able to grow into harnessing his superhuman skill set. The latter having the opportunity to celebrate their 5th NBA title in the twilight of Tim Duncan's career when an MVP-worthy performance in the NBA Finals ended up providing the juiciest of fruits of that labor. To call the relationship between one of the league's most professional/drama-free franchises and the player who became the league's most introverted All-Star mutually beneficial would seemingly be an understatement. Therefore, neither party should have any shortage of appreciation for what they were able to achieve together.
Unfortunately, when a relationship sours, it's not exactly the most glowing aspects of it that are the quickest to cross our minds. No doubt about it, the Spurs probably should have acknowledged the entire range of Kawhi Leonard's accomplishments in San Antonio while biding him farewell. On the contrary, however, Kawhi Leonard probably should have acknowledged that the Spurs' medical staff has gracefully aged enough HOF players to form the best starting five to ever take the court at a nursing home while he was artfully dodging their diagnosis for months on end. Personally I think all is fair in the war that is love lost, and that's especially true when the person whose extensive resume went without regard is the same person who started the first battle over some frivolous bullshit.
Say what you want about the unmistakably different font choices on the respective tweets. You can it petty. You can call it passive aggressive. I, on the other hand, am going to call it like I see it and say it's familiar. The Spurs are acting no differently than any other scorned ex that felt forced into initiating the breakup after months of having the partnership sabotaged. Assuming one frustrated quote from Tony Parker didn't set in motion this split, Kawhi Leonard basically tried to make the Spurs out to be the bad guy by way of the silent treatment. They obviously could have taken the high road as an organization, but anyone that has ever been both jaded and newly single should know that's much easier said than done.
For that reason, Kawhi should consider himself lucky that, unlike himself, Gregg Popovich chose to be the bigger man and take the road less traveled...
Kawhi Leonard Is Headed To The Toronto Raptors In Exchange For DeMar DeRozan, And - Surprise, Surprise - He's Not Too Happy About It
It's not all that often in which a blockbuster trade happens and you're left debating which side is the bigger loser as opposed to which side is the bigger winner, but credit to the most muted malcontent in the history of professional sports for turning himself into the beach front property in a hurricane hotspot of NBA assets. By doing so through the flapping gums of his Uncle, Kawhi Leonard basically put both his employer and his perspective suitors in a position in which to somehow look stupid for both trading a superstar as well as acquiring one in a league in which doing either should set you up extremely nicely for the foreseeable future. He didn't play much basketball this season, but his hushed efforts as an easily-influenced enigma were quite impressive.
From the Spurs' perspective, you can't be totally content with the outcome here. Getting back an All-Star, albeit a lesser one, limited the damage and if there's someone that can coach the absolute most out of a foreign born first rounder then it's Gregg Popovich. Still, getting merely as many contributing players as you gave up, and having nothing more than a highly protected pick to show for it is not anywhere close to the heist that trading a top five talent should net you. The truth is, the Spurs probably could have coaxed a better deal out of the Lakers had they been more timely and willing to make a bold, in-conference move that gave their resident toddler his proverbial pacifier. That said, regardless of the return, the inevitable flipping of a Finals MVP and a DPOY was bound to leave San Antonio supporters feeling as though they just got done listening to Charles Barkley harshly critique their city and the collective diet of its women.
From the Raptors' perspective, I'm pretty sure their offseason has been the most scathing indictment of just how miserable it is to be mediocre in the NBA. Keep in mind that the following is all following a season in which they finished atop their conference. Toronto has now axed the league's Coach Of The Year for the relative unknown that was working under him and parted ways with a homegrown, long-tenured face of the franchise for a one year rental who is just as likely to hobble into the witness protection program with a fake limp as he is to happily play out his contract.
Personally, I would have stood pat with one of the few stars that has wholeheartedly embraced playing outside the states to take another run at the East knowing that it had finally been exorcized of their own personal demon. After all, risking the fate of your franchise in hopes of getting an actual commitment from Kawhi Leonard is like playing Russian Roulette with five bullets in rotation instead of one. If nothing else, the fact that Masau Ujiri was willing to pull the trigger on a tenure-defining trade that has such a high chance of backfiring speaks volumes about his level of desperation regarding the deja-vu of the Raptors' playoff failures, but I hope he wrote out his last will and testament before doing so.
As for the man-child of the hour....
Other than incessantly pouting through second-hand sources, what exactly does Kawhi Leonard have the desire to do? Seriously, finding this dude somewhere to play a professional sport for tens of millions of dollars per year is somehow as painstaking as picking out a place to eat with your moody girlfriend. A bunch of demands, even more moping, and not one actual solution offered. He reportedly wants to be Laker but also has no interest in playing alongside LeBron James, so basically he's as impossible to please as a vegan that loves the serving style of Rodizio restaurants. No wonder the Spurs said "fuck it" and made him someone else's problem before they starved trying to cater to his bullshit.
I'm pretty sure the injury excuse has run its course, so what's it going to be this time? He doesn't trust Toronto's team chef not to drug him into signing an extension? His passport expired? He doesn't own a coat? The utterance of the term "eh" makes him uneasy? I'm all for NBA players using the power afforded to them to plow their own career path, but this has undeniably crossed over into an abuse of that power.
If Kawhi Leonard does indeed sit out the season then it's mainly the Raptors' fault for thinking they, of all people, could change the mind of someone that did the unthinkable by spurning the Spurs' winning culture. However, is it really too much to ask of Kawhi Leonard to just do his insanely profitable job until his contractual status permits him the ability to choose the super specific situation that suits his preposterously high maintenance "personality"? I'm not exactly genetically inclined to know what's best for him, but I don't think that collecting fines while silently sitting out nearly two full seasons for ambiguously shady reasons is the best way for him to maximize both his options and his value on the open market. But hey, I'm not blood-related, so what do I know?
The Dude Who Called The Cops After Getting Fouled In A Pick-Up Game Somehow Has Competition For The Claim Of Biggest Douche In This Video
I can't. In fact, I simply won't. In the growing wake of recently viral racism, I promised myself to always side with the minority in situations with which the cops were called on them by a white(r?) person for a patently absurd reason, but I'm already breaking that promise. Granted, it's easier to do so with this overblown and unnecessary altercation looking as though it was result of a difference in skin thickness as opposed to skin color, but that's not really the point. The point is that, while I don't condone alerting the authorities of personal fouls committed against one's ego, I'd rather spread my cheeks and sit on an actual fence than get fully behind someone who shows up to a gym in a headband wearing two (2) more camo shooting sleeves than any self-respecting person should ever own.
The way I see this is as follows. Every action has an equal, but opposite reaction. When that action is as insanely over-the-top as a dude ripping the tags off his militaristic attire and showing up to the court straight from Dick's Sporting Goods to set crack-back picks in a game in which the score doesn't go higher than 11, the reaction is bound to be just as inexcusable and preposterous.
Based solely off his fit, I have very little doubt that the accused party was treating an LA Fitness on a random Monday night like it was the goddamn Staples Center during a Game 7 of the bully ball era. That, of course, shouldn't have been anywhere near enough to encourage the accusing party to use the number 9-1-1 when calling a foul. However, in the battle for biggest asshole in the gym, my guess would be that the guy dressed like he was ready to play the four in a foxhole made a competition that included a person who invoked the services of local law enforcement to officiate a pick-up game as close as it could possibly be. I'd rather have the wanna-be Kevin Garnett on my team than the bitch who cried crime, but - as for who shattered more social norms - the score might ironically be close enough to justify the use of an illegal screen.
If there's one thing we're starting to learn about 'The Process' as it's finally become something other than a punchline it's that it's quite the overly confident endeavor. Even a blind person could recognize the brightness of the Sixers' future, as they are a young team with both the top-end talent and the assets to create a lasting rivalry for Eastern Conference supremacy with the Boston Celtics. That's why it takes a pretty ludicrous leap in arrogance to leave me wanting to ask the following question of whoever remains in their upper management...
Who the hell do you think you are?
To be clear, with Chris Paul's contract seemingly bound to age into an absolute albatross and the Rockets already looking like a depleted version of themselves, Daryl Morey might have ended up with better odds of winning a championship sooner had he took Philadelphia up on their offer. That being said, trying to poach the prideful man whose best shot at the Warriors fell approximately two of an unprecedented twenty-seven straight off-target threes short of besting one of the greatest teams of all time when you're an organization that has won next to nothing is like the lead singer of a cover band trying to swoon Bon Jovi's wife from her barstool while he's in the bathroom. Again, the Sixers are probably a better destination for a perspective GM than the Rockets in the long run, but - in the short term - trying to outkick their proverbial coverage was sure to leave them exposed as the project they still are.
Now, if their freakishly athletic center sped his development up to reach his ever-running mouth, their transcendently talented point guard learned to shoot jumpers with he appropriate hand, and the #1 pick they traded up for magically remembered how to play basketball? Well, then they might have had the better situation necessary to make a compelling case for Daryl Morey to pull a 'KD' and snake his way out of town. Until even one of those things happens, however, the Sixers should probably stop just a wee bit short of trying to quench their thirst for a GM that doesn't "Snowden" their organizational secrets from the tippy-top shelf in which the reigning 'Executive Of The Year' currently resides. They could very easily make him live to regret his decision, but the best way to get a man to question his loyalty is to tempt him with something that is better, as opposed to something that might be.
The Texas Boys Are Back, As The Devils Avoided Arbitration By Signing Both Blake Coleman And Stefan Noesen
As confused as I thought I was by both Blake Coleman and Stefan Noesen (or their agents) feeling the need to file for arbitration when mutually beneficial contracts didn't seem as though they should have been all that painstaking to work out amongst the Devils and two of their most consummate role players, I am definitely more confused now. The wings on which Travis Zajac flew back into offensive relevance still seem as though they been brought back on relatively bargain-type deals, so I am not entirely sure what the hold up was. I guess it doesn't matter as the not-so-passive-aggressive process of undermining accomplishments has been avoided, but it still seemed like an unnecessary scare for a team with a culture of cohesiveness.
Anyway, while Stefan Noesen's one-year deal is the perfect way for New Jersey to find out what they truly have in a guy that contributed at both ends of the ice prior to another offseason of restricted free agency, the deal I'm ecstatic about is inking Blake Coleman for under $2 million per season for what will more than likely be the prime of his career.
As far as bang per buck is concerned, I like that contract more so than any that Ray Shero passed over in free agency. For whatever reason, some whiney, ungrateful Devils' fans have a problem understanding that players are actually capable of improving with experience, but enough about the idiots that clearly forgot how this team went from AHL-caliber to the playoffs. Point being, other than the obvious (Nico Hischier, Will Butcher, Jesper Bratt), Blake Coleman very well might have the most unrealized potential on the entire roster.
Even if he plateaus as a pain in the ass penalty killer with speed, snarl, and a sneaky amount of skill and scoring touch, $5.4 million over three years for someone that is basically the stylistic blueprint for a fast, attacking, and supportive team is an absolute steal. As it stands he's the perfectly pesky and versatile bottom six player, but it's not crazy to envision him as a late bloomer whose flashes of brilliance aren't as few and far between. He'll probably fall somewhere in the middle, but that would still give the Devils an even bigger discount than they already have on one of the last leftover picks of the Lou Era, who provides at least $2.5 million dollars worth of talent if his status remains quo...
It feels like the the ambiguity regarding the future of two guys who helped make for an intermittently awesome and dependable third line could have easily been averted, but all that matters is that the Texas boys are back! In the immortal words of John McClane, "yippee ki-yay motherfucker!".
If Collin Sexton Ends Up Being A Mediocre Defender It Certainly Won't Be Due To A Lack Of Focus On That End Of The Floor
I appreciate this, I genuinely do. In a league in which defense is too often undervalued, it's refreshing to see that a young lottery pick is taking nothing for granted and showing a dedication to playing it with the same type of determination with which he takes the ball to the rack. If some random possession in an otherwise meaningless Summer League game is any indication, Collin Sexton is exactly the type of two-way wing that all teams should desire for their roster in 2018.
I just hope he learns how to display that certified stopper mentality without appearing as though he's trying to flex and sweat out three days worth of intestinal backup when he gets to the big leagues, because trying to intimidate some of the best offensive players in the world is just about the quickest way to make yourself a target of them. The James Harden's, Steph Curry's, and Kyrie Irving's of the world have made far more experienced men look stupid for stepping to them with swag, so - if only for the sake of his twitter mentions - Collin Sexton might want to conveniently forget to pack his crazy eyes in his luggage when he leaves Las Vegas. He pulls up on the most offensively unstoppable players in the most athletic league in sports has to offer with that constipated look and that diaper isn't going to be feeling so dandy by the time they are done digesting his defense. It's probably pretty effective against his inferiors, but I suggest he put more energy into his stance and positioning than his expression and his muscle tightness when the NBA's finest start getting loose as his expense.
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.