TMZ- Warren Sapp didn't see this coming!!!!
The NFL Hall of Famer got SERVED with a lawsuit in his battery case by a process server PRETENDING TO BE A FAN ... and executed the trick play to perfection! As we previously reported, Sapp is being sued by a woman who claims Sapp drunkenly bowled her over at a 2015 Super Bowl party in Arizona. She claims she suffered major injuries as a result. The woman's attorneys had been trying to serve Sapp for more than a year but couldn't quite track him down -- they felt he was "actively avoiding the process server." So, they sent a guy to a Sapp autograph session he had been promoting, hoping Warren would show up -- and they could finally slap him with the complaint and summons to appear in court. The plan worked to perfection ... an unsuspecting Sapp even put his arm around the guy to pose for a photo before he dropped the bomb on him. ---------- Just like they drew it up! Hook, line, and sinker! The bait and switch! A play call that's as timeless of a classic as an interior stunt! He knocked him off balance with the increasingly rare "OMG, OMG, You're my favorite undersized defensive tackle turned predatory blowhard of all time!", and used the long arms of the law to spin him right onto the wrong side of justice! As far as rushing the maker of non-consensual passes is concerned, it doesn't get much more textbook than that! If we are being honest, I pictured that going down much differently. I was really hoping to candidly witness one of those heartfelt, cinematic moments in which a process server audibly slams a mandated court notice on the table in front of an assailant only to punctuate it with a "YOU'VE BEEN SERVED!" that makes for the "dun-dun-duuuun" of a dramatic pause. The fact that this interaction was so casual actually kind of ruins it for me. I would imagine the type of person that gracefully takes surprise lawsuits in stride has been dealt a harrowing amount of them. Therefore, I'm not sure I'm buying that the former athlete who self-promoted his own autograph session was "actively avoiding" anything other than basic workplace decency. Judging by that response, he probably encounters more undercover judicial messengers than he does fans these days. If that blindsided sacking of Warren Sapp truly took an entire year then I have a feeling what we just watched was a Rudy-esque culmination of over 12 months of fruitless labor. Still makes for a good story, but - just like getting away with jumping offsides on a meaningless late-game snap - this process server was basically pitied his moment of glory by a long-defeated opponent.
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While a bunch of overeager hockey fans wouldn't be my preferred company when offering the rest of my mortality to another human being, I can't help but feel extremely happy for these two lovestruck Devils' diehards. I just have one question. Was having Miles Wood, of all people, deliver a puck that says "Tracy, will you marry me?" to your soulmate really the most promising way to get her to agree to eternal monogamy? I mean, look at this fucking guy... Kid's got a jawline that appears to have been chiseled from granite in the mold of Ashton Kutcher's, eyes you could lost in, and a smile that's only made more seductive by the fact that it's not even remotely meant to be. I thought you're supposed to limit the risk of the proposition during a marriage proposal? This dude is lucky the maintenance crew didn't need to be called to remove his long time girlfriend from the leg of a 22 year old speedster whose play leads me to believe he might be willing to do a little grinding off the ice as well. I don't even mean this as a low-blow towards her now fiancé because you can probably count on one hand the amount of people in the world that aren't comparatively made to look like gremlins by the mere presence of James Franco's long-lost-inside-a-gym brother. It's a good thing this guy knew the love was true, because if Tracy had cold feet about her current situation they would have been hot on the tail of Miles Wood. Shit, I might jump the fence and kick down the door of the closet if I knew he was inside, never mind receiving a souvenir proposal that didn't have a 'From:' attached. Congrats to the happy couple. I'm sure they overcame a lot throughout their relationship, but nothing was more of a test than the split second in which Tracy thought she had caught the alluring eyes of her favorite team's heartbreaker. Thankfully they passed!
In fairness to Senators fans, there is something odd about the wording of that tweet. Personally, I'm more inclined to wonder why the first sentence reads like something you might follow with an 'R.I.P.' as it seems to reference a reconvening in the afterlife. I suppose I can see why those from Ottawa might get paranoid and mistakenly see it as a foreshadowing of the future by which the fate of franchise hinges. However, if you asked me to give you a guess as to what team Erik Karlsson is signing with next summer after reading that first post I might just go with the St. Peter Souls because the tear and the "...for now" made for an oddly morbid promise of an encore between now former teammates. In all seriousness though, I do not envy the position the Ottawa faithful have been put in. Already being so paranoid that you're taking a fine-tooth comb to every completely irrelevant public statement your franchise player makes in hopes of finding a subliminal message over a full year before he hits free agency is admittedly a wee bit overbearing. but it's not like they have meaningful hockey to distract them from what's almost guaranteed to be a nut-clutching negotiation. Riding a Conn Smythe-caliber performance to within a goal of the Stanley Cup Finals has only made Senators' fans a more fragile bunch. So much so that I'm not even sure what will break their spirit more, potentially getting broken up with by their game-breaking defenseman or incessantly stalking his social media to a point where it consumes their life. With Drew Doughty in need of an equally anchor-esque long term contract at the same exact time, it's pretty far outside the realm of possibility that Erik Karlsson, Dion Phaneuf, and Nate Thompson end up together in LA. Unfortunately, as the overanalyzed semantics of a gracious farewell have proven, insecurity knows no unlikelihood. Just ask any jealous girlfriend that's looked through their significant other's phone and found nothing to worry about...if you can even find one.
While it's inherently unfair that the NBA has gotten to the point where the most successful head coaches get the least amount of credit, I like to envision Tyronn Lue's tenure coaching the Cavaliers as one long, drawn out struggle to prove his worth. Every good joke contains a littttttle bit of truth so, however mildly, the man who hypothetically helped to bring Cleveland it's first championship in over 50 years still worries about the optics of his own importance. Clipped to that board might as well be his job security, and - come hell or high maintenance - he's not putting it in the hands of anyone else. And the best part is, not only is that hilarious, but it's a completely legitimate concern. Things are on the up-and-up now, but were not even a week removed from the Cavaliers looking about 100x more dysfunctional than they ever did under David Blatt and he got ousted almost as fast as Isaiah Thomas in a team-wide compatibility contest. Despite both having led their teams to the last two NBA Finals (Lue was an assistant in 2015), Steve Kerr and Tyronn Lue couldn't possibly be in different positions right now. Can you imagine if the latter sat idly by and watching his own roster orchestrate a 46 point win over anyone? The narrative wouldn't be "he's disrespecting his opponent", it would be "AHA, WE FINALLY FOUND THE PROBLEM!". I'm glad the guy who once laughably referred to his job as the hardest in the entire NBA stumbled upon some self awareness, because the fact that - sarcastically or not - he referenced a refusal to leave his team to their own volition like a clingy, overachieving boyfriend is evidence of the opposite. It may come off as insecure, but as the head coach of the most successful organization to consistently need a scapegoat and Kevin Love currently suffering from an ailment that can be proved with an x-ray, you wouldn't be too quick to let yourself look expendable either.
ESPN- New Orleans Saints running back Alvin Kamara wasn’t so sure about the whole Mardi Gras thing.
Hours later, as he walked down the street packed with adoring crowds on either side, talking selfies with whomever ran out to him and throwing beads into the masses, it was clear he had figured it out in his own way. The two rookies had a float to themselves, complete with a band that quickly struck up “Stand Up and Get Crunk” as soon as the parade started rolling. “This is crazy,” one of them murmured as they saw the crowd of people, thousands of them, lined up along several miles of a route that would conclude at the Mercedes-Benz Superdome. Kamara and Lattimore, both participating in their first Mardi Gras, clearly didn’t care about what anyone did in the past. They enticed someone from the crowd to give them burgers and chicken in exchange for some premium beads. Kamara, who had been provided Airheads on the float, threw them off like they were normal throws. They hung their game day jerseys and Pro Bowl jerseys off the float, teasing people with the idea that they might actually throw them. “Let’s get off the float,” one of them suggested. And before anyone could really think it over, the group was jumping off and running down the street. While some stretches of the parade have barriers to prevent anyone from crossing, this part did not. Anyone who wanted to run up to them could, and did. This was probably the worst nightmare of the security detail provided for the float. They were short-handed that day and had one man assigned to the players and their friends. This didn’t seem to bother either rookie. Kamara was swallowed into a crowd of fans that held up their phones, pleading for a picture. They hugged him. Lattimore walked alongside him, taking it all in. This stretched on for several minutes. The parade creeped behind them and then stopped. Security tried to entice them to get back on the float, but the two didn’t notice or didn’t care. It was clear they were loving it almost as much as the fans who held up signs for them or screamed their names. They were persuaded to get back on the float, but jumped off again only a few minutes later. Kamara took off by himself, grinning as he threw beads into the crowd from the ground level. At one point, the two spotted Saints general manager Mickey Loomis at the parade with his family and jogged over to take a picture. They gathered for a picture with former Saints safety Steve Gleason in the middle of the street. A police officer eventually yelled for them to wrap it up. They obligingly climbed back up on the float. The band struck up again, and the parade continued rolling along toward the Superdome. When asked how he felt about Mardi Gras now that he’d seen it for himself, Kamara grinned. “I’d f--- with it,” he said. ---------- Their award winning performance on the field had already long convinced me that Alvin Kamara And Marshon Lattimore were destined to one day be part of their very own uninhibited, celebratory parade throughout New Orleans. That said, I'll be damned if them embracing their newfound stardom Mardi Gras-style doesn't have me desperately hoping that procession gets scheduled sooner rather than later. Watching the Eagles - led by Jason Kelce, of course - become a gritty reflection of the city of Philadelphia was so cool that it almost made me forget that the shit-eating grins of their fanbase were all-too-literal. I say that to say this, Alvin Kamara and Marshon Lattimore are New Orleans. If that wasn't made clear by the swagger with which they somehow casually dominated professional football in their first season and the subsequent celebrations that ensued then it was made clear by their willingness to brush off security detail and become one with the culture and tradition of their new home. The current Saints team might be the most likable of a Sean Payton era that includes both a resurrectional rebirth of the city as well as the franchise's first Super Bowl victory. Transcendent talent aside, that's due - in large part - to the personalities that have come along with the central figures in a youth movement that's rapidly progressed beyond its year. The recency bias of renewed relevance is weighing heavily on the following statement, but I can honestly say I'd be surprised if neither of them ended up being a part of a championship extravaganza in NOLA. Let's hope that's the correct assessment, because clearly they know how to a embrace a parade and a...umm..."lubricated" fanbase as their own.
"If that happened on a football field, everyone would laugh and say, '15-yard penalty" and move on. You move forward and try to take it in stride. At the end of the day, you see everybody, you like everybody and you want to be friends and friendly with everybody, but everybody out here I compete against, even the ones I like, they are the ones trying to take away my livelihood. I have to do what I can to get through, and I was proud of myself for doing that." - Ryan Harrison (h/t ShreveportTimes) ----- I'm not sure whether or not the words exchanged between Ryan Harrison and Donald Young Jr. were inappropriate in nature, nor am I going to make any guesses as to what they might have been. I wouldn't know either player if they walked up to me in the middle of the street and began beating me over the head with their personalized racquets, so I'm most certainly not qualified to blindly judge the content of their character. That's why I'll leave it at this. If the best defense of the accused is "it would only be worthy of a 15-yard penalty on a football field" then the accused better tighten his grip on the proverbial soap, because that will quickly have him receiving the broad end of the gavel in the court of public opinion. In fairness to Ryan Harrison, a snowball would probably stand a better in hell then he would on the gridiron, but has he even watched the barbaric game he just used for cross-sport comparison? I can't help but think he's severely undervaluing what it might take to talk yourself into a 15 yard penalty during an NFL game, because 'punishably depraved' by the standards of those that combat each other in competitive assault belongs no where near a tennis court unless said tennis court is being used to host an organized purge. Granted, most are exchanged between members on the same race, but I feel pretty confident in saying that slurs (of varying degrees) fly far more frequently than flags throughout a football game. Therefore, deeming his trash talk during a gentleman's game to be fitting of the type of infraction one receives when they take a decade off the lifespan of a defenseless wide receiver probably isn't in his best interest. To his own point, it's all relative. However, contrary to his point, 15 yards on a football field roughly equates to 5-to-10 years of imprisonment in society, which roughly equates to approximately 25-to-community service (pending appeal and under-the-table pay off, of course) in the high society where professional tennis functions. Again, I'm not saying whether or not he's guilty of racist rhetoric, but - unless he was out there chanting the mission statement of the KKK - he's definitely guilty of having an elementary understanding of the type of unforgivable things that are said between the whistles during contact sports.
TalkOfFame- One more item of interest, particularly to New England fans: According to Pereira, the “Philly Special” that produced a Nick Foles touchdown catch at the end of the first half and was the most memorable play of the Super Bowl should have been called back. Reason? The Eagles didn’t line up properly and should have been penalized.
“I know the league came out and said that it’s a judgment call, which it is.” Pereira said. “The down judge, who was the one that (the play) was on his side of the field … they felt that it was his judgment, and he (receiver Alshon Jeffrey) was close enough. Well, he wasn’t. They lined up wrong. “Not only that, it’s a trick play. And if you’re going to run a trick-type play, then you have to be lined up properly. You could either have six men on the line, or you could have an ineligible number lined up at the end of the line, which was the case. I know what the league has said, but they would have been a lot more comfortable if they would have called an illegal formation. “We always use a yard (within the line of scrimmage), maybe a yard-and-a-half. But that’s two. And even a little bit beyond two. It’s kind of one of those that has no effect on the play. I get it. But they didn’t line up properly. And it really should’ve been called.” -------- Look, I don't particular know if the 4th down trickeration that rose the entire Super Bowl-viewing audience - regardless of affiliation - up off their couch was the result of an uncalled penalty. The only thing I know about flags thrown for illegal formations is that they are complete and utter bullshit when they go against my rooting interest and an undeniable upholding of justice and integrity when they benefit my rooting interest. I have heard unbiased people that seem to know what the fuck they are talking about take both sides of what should theoretically be a cut-and-dry argument, and I don't have anywhere near enough interest to do a deep dive in hopes of coming to Mike Pereira's "more comfortable" conclusion that an awesome Super Bowl should have had the life sucked out of it. That being said, the VP of Officiating turned FOX's rules analyst vehemently grandstanding on behalf of six inches of uncovered ground that in no way aided in the most exciting play of the biggest game of the year over a week after it ended is basically everything that's wrong with the NFL officiating wrapped up in one concise podcast segment. The uncertainty. The nitpicking. The untimeliness. I don't blame Mike Pereira because the occupational hazards by which he has made a post-retirement career weren't set in place by him, but - Christ Almighty - can't we just let the recently-sober underdogs lie? If not because a failure to do so makes a multi-billion dollar business look even more incapable of managing itself then because no one gives a rat's ass about the legality of formations until they allow them to bitch, moan, and use them as a scapegoat.
The last thing I would ever want to do is drain the creative juices of those crazy enough to slap on the pads and invite high speed impact from tightly compacted vulcanized rubber. Everyone knows that goaltenders got a lot going on up there, so they might as well be able to show the overactivity of their brain on the canvas that is the equipment used to protect it. Plus, most goalie masks end up being aesthetically pleasing pieces of art, and the overtly American masks that the trio of women that were sworn to serve and protect their cage on international ice planned on wearing are no different. Unfortunately, I can kind of see where the IOC is coming from in trying to blow out Lady Liberty's proudly burning torch. Regardless of how the New England Patriots operate, the biggest problem with rules is that they are theoretically supposed to apply to everybody. So while the virtues of freedom, acceptance, and democracy don't seem inherently problematic to anyone but the President, the same probably can't be said about the outside ideologies that have made the United States such a desirable destination. If anything, the fact that most Americans - myself included - think this ruling would be complete bullshit is a credit to how naive we have the ability to be to the extremely suspect values of the vast majority of the rest of the world. So sure, it seems a bit dictatorial to tell Team USA that they can't paint an awe-inspiring statue that represents the right side of wrong on their helmets, but it becomes a lot more understandable when faced with the prospect of looking head-on at Kim Jong-Un's airbrushed haircut while trying to pick a corner with your snapshot. When legislating those with a wide range of morals it's important to look at the worst case scenario, and the worst case scenario is that the team of ringers formerly know as Russia is backstopped by someone with "To Hell With Homosexuals" imprinted across his or her helmet. That might seem radical, but so does living in a country where women are forced to show up to the rink with their face wrapped in something much more restricting than a scarf. There are definitely a bunch of exceptions, but - globally speaking - there's too much horrific shit being encouraged to open up Pandora's box of offensive muses for murals. This ruling would definitely be misconstruing patriotism as politics, but at least the Olympics wouldn't be opening themselves to becoming an event where fascists feel free to illustrate their philosophies. It sucks we might have to concede our protective craftsmanship, but it's really the least we could do to meet a middle ground with nations that still consider women's hockey as oxymoronic as they consider transsexuality. UPDATE: They ended up being allowed to wear them, because...well...America, the beautiful...
Steve Kerr can play this off as if it were an attempt to re-engage his team throughout a long regular season whose forgone conclusion was reached prior to training camp. In fact, there's no reason to think that he'd be stretching the truth by doing so. However, let's not pretend we haven't heard that very same explanation from middle school teachers that - when I was growing up anyway - rolled a fat back to the front of the room and left Bill Nye in charge of the lesson plan. I'm certainly not comparing the chemistry maintenance done by the head coach of four star players to the biology being taught by some hungover 25 year old whose made nauseous by the sound of her students' voices, but in these particular instances their dissociative "teaching moment" sure as shit made their jobs a hell of a lot less painstaking. Maybe I'd feel differently if the Warriors weren't going up against an opponent that is an NBA institution of relegation away from becoming a middling playoff team in the G-League. After all, the drunk, homeless guy sleeping outside Gate D could have coached Golden State to a win over the Suns last night. Truth be told, the level of abject disrespect that it would take to call 'Eddie' down from the nosebleeds and have her orchestrate the half court offense is exactly the amount of respect that the Phoenix Suns have earned this season. Point being, as much credit as you want to give to Steve Kerr for actively abstaining from his responsibilities, he didn't exactly let his players draw up their own fate. Rather, he sat courtside and essentially supervised recess. Whether that has some profound effect on his team's focus going forward remains to be seen, but the fact that it's a tactic that's only available to the coach of the best team in the league when he's up against the worst team in the league speaks volumes about the risk required to resort to it. Anyway, if the mark of someone who has reached the peak of their profession is having the ability to leave the delegation of duties to those performing said duties then Steve Kerr was basically watching that 40+ point shellacking from a top the Mount Rushmore of NBA coaches. He may have just properly oiled the machine that Mark Jackson helped construct and Luke Walton helped to maintain in his absence, but being able to claim you're running it while do nothing more than casually admiring what that machine is able to manufacture on its own? Hard work be damned, because getting the job done by way of others in a satisfied workplace is the true mark of success. As Frustrating As They May Be, There Is No One Thing That's Responsible For The Devils Recent Woes2/12/2018 As I walked out of Prudential Center following a game where the Devils inarguably outplayed the Bruins in a losing effort - for the second straight time this season, mind you - I couldn't help but keep telling myself that it's impossible to win in a league as competitive as the NHL when you give up two shorthanded goals. I'm not sure what the stats are on that, but - when you consider the fashion in which three of Boston's four non-empty netters ended up behind Eddie Lack - it's tough to consider last night's loss anything other than self sabotage. Between stopping one step short of picking up two pucks and throwing them in their own goddamn net as well as their backup goaltender's carelessness around said net, the Devils, themselves, made sure that a dominant performance against one of the league's most complete teams went all for naught. I say that to say this, if you absolutely need to point to one thing that's cost the Devils' throughout this losing streak then this team isn't for you, because there's been no shortage of situational issues that could be used to fill in the following blank as of late "you don't win games when you ___________". That mind-blowing concept might not appease the narrow-minded fans that think all it takes is one reliable scapegoat to start betting the farm against them, but it doesn't make it any less true. Whether it be the goaltending coming up lame when the Devils need a big save (Ottawa, Calgary), the scoring being less opportunistic than a gastric bypass patient at a buffet when it's needed the most (Calgary, Boston), an inability to do even a mediocre job paying close attention to the most prolific members of the opposition in their own end (Ottawa, Calgary), the power play and/or penalty kill being about as timely as a rumbling stomach during a road trip (Ottawa, Calgary, Boston), or the migraine-inducing combination of all the above (Columbus). A Devils team that honestly isn't playing anywhere near as bad as coming up empty in four straight games would lead you to believe is doing that annoying thing that most young, inexperienced teams have to do before they achieve the consistency necessary to compete down the stretch. They are learning just how much the little things matter, and - as is the case with most difficult lessons - that education comes with the type of frustration that Devils fans had become desensitized to over the last couple of hopeless seasons. So I could tell you that the Devils need Cory Schneider in net, can't rely on Taylor Hall for all of their offense, and have a talent deficiency on the blue line, but - seeing as they've remained the case all year - you already know those things. What has yet to be seen is if this team can eliminate the mistakes that turn promising performances into disappointing ones, because the difference between making and missing the playoffs is likely to come down to avoiding something as stupid and self inflicted as we saw last night. -------- As a Devils fan, I've been beaten down by so many bullshit calls as of late that I found it difficult to work myself into a frenzy over what appeared to be anything but a conclusive goal, but I will say that you'd need a pretty high prescription on your yellow and black x-ray glasses to tell me this puck is for sure in the net...
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Also, someone get Brad Marchand a tight black dress and a corsage, because Taylor Hall took him for a spin like he was his date to prom...
...before Damon Severson exacted what little revenge could be appreciated in defeat...
If that was nothing more than a desperate play for sympathy - and I don't think it was - then it was a damned good one. I can't recall a time I which I have heard Johnny Manziel sound 5% as sincere as he did in that interview, so it was either a brilliant acting performance or a cautionary tale about how easy it is for youth and celebrity to turn an athlete or entertainer into the type of person that others don't even bother trying to help. By all accounts - mostly those of social media - a shortage of company wasn't something that the former college star was suffering from. A shortage of company that gave a shit about his professional struggles and wanted him to succeed in something other than getting them all into the VIP section of the club, however, probably was. The way I look at is this. The careless and cocky douchebag personality/persona might lend itself to some combination of depression and substance abuse, but it certainly doesn't make for all that compelling of a victim. That's not to say that no one in his inner circle cared about him as anything more than an accomplice, but it is too say that being brash, egoistical, and - as he said in his on words - entitled led to most people on the outside instinctively diagnosing him as nothing more than a dickhead. If this was just reputation reconstruction in an effort to make the 46th installment of #ComebackSZN the one that finally sticks (and it's impossible to be entirely certain that it's not) then consider me duped. It sounded like an honest and believable indictment of what it's like to be given every reason - both biologically and socially - to be so far up your own ass that you lose sight of the golden opportunity you've been given. I'm still not crying a river for the kid, but - with how quickly he drank himself out of a dream job - it's one of the few things that makes sense regarding his rapid demise.
As any person that's ever entered into an emotional and un-winnable pissing contest between friends of differing sports' allegiances will tell you, the concept of conveniently referencing past triumphs to ease the pain of the present is nothing new. I just never thought I'd see the day where a once-proud professional organization would buy into it in such an excessive way that they'd hang the results of an online poll from rafters that were previously home to only the highest of accomplishments. I know it's not easy to divert the attention away from the wasting of a generational talent, but surely the Oilers could have done better than immortalizing subjective internet narratives. Admittedly, this feels like it was the league's idea. Still, someone...no...anyone in that organization with a semblance of pride should absolutely have stepped in before one of the most decorated franchises in the NHL embarrassed themselves with a label that's fitting of the inside of a kindergartner's Mother's Day card. Stanley Cup championships, 'Hall Of Fame' careers, and now the type of half-false advertisement you'd expect to see printed on the side of a novelty coffee mug or written in neon lights inside the window of a run-of-the-mill pizza joint are what hang amongst the rarified air of the Edmonton Oiler's new home. What's next, we going to start passing out rings for a certain number of retweets? Honestly, it's a good thing none of their retired numbers represent athletes who have passed away because - contrary to popular belief - I hear there's not all that much room left for rolling over in graves. The overly dramatic trumpets serving as the background for a ceremonial banner raising that was likely made possible by way of an organized effort to complete the impossible task of navigating NHL.com was nothing short of pure comedy, which makes total sense...considering it was basically stolen straight from a well-known scene in a popular one...
In pretty much any other case I would have no reason to assume I was looking at anything other than abnormal hand placement. Unfortunately, Sjinkie Knegt's last foray into disappointment on a international stage produced the following gem...
Therefore, due to a past precedent of objectionable gestures as well the conclusive research I did by picking up random objects around my apartment without my most socially frowned upon finger awkwardly sticking out for no reason, I must say I have a hard time believing this non-explanation for it... Knegt said, "It looked like I put up the middle finger. It's not intended … I just looked very bad in the photo, but it was not on purpose. I was just holding the medal." (h/t KoreaTimes) That being said, the fact that it's even up for a debate is a pretty big step in the right direction, is it not? The Dutch speed skater should probably stop punctuating every failed attempt at winning a gold medal with a public "fuck you", but let's not pretend he hasn't come a long way. It's not like having four years of training become all for naught in a literal blink of a eye has become an easier pill for him to swallow. Yet somehow, he went from gliding through millions upon millions of television screens throughout the world with both his middle fingers raised skyward in the direction of his opponent to probably, but maybe not sending an understated bird towards the slick surface that was clearly at fault for slowing him done. Still not the best look for someone who knows from experience better than to break from the holier than thou virtues of the Olympic Games, but that might as well have been a congratulatory handshake and a bow in comparison to his last "attempt" at sportsmanship. Who knows, maybe by 2022 he'll have learned to sneak a muddled expletive in between a couple fake coughs? Perhaps 2026 is the year he either wins or avoids looking like a sore of loser. Whatever the case may be, the fact that we are questioning the intention of his middle finger is proof positive that it's well on its way to moving in conjunction with the rest of his fingers. The mark of dedicated athlete is improvement, and that means displaying his frustrations more subtly while being closer in defeat is a victory in and of itself. On the bright side, at least Isaiah Thomas wasn't there to muck up the immortalization of a franchise figurehead with the lingering awkwardness of an unplayed 30-second tribute video. In fact, if you ignore that they got completely bludgeoned at the hands of his long time nemesis, Boston really owes Cleveland a thank you for helping them avoid a fate that would have distracted from the honorary presence of Paul Pierce. It's a good thing everyone had their head in the right place when planning each and every detail for a much-anticipated ceremonial night, because it would have been a real shame if circumstances made for a dampening of the mood on such a special occasion. Imagine the Cavaliers weren't 72 hours removed from reconstructing the entirety of their roster in 45 minutes time? Even the idea that Isaiah Thomas was in the building for an event in which Paul Pierce was to be the sole focus might have had him looking a little something like this...
No, but seriously, if all arrangements were being made to appease the guest of honor then why in the hell was his biggest rival invited? Like, of all things that could tarnish a once in a lifetime celebration, the Celtics didn't consider that the pre-party to a retirement ceremony might potentially get crashed by an incentivized LeBron James? As far as scheduling oversights are concerned, giving 'The King' the opportunity to come into Boston and solidify his grasp on the throne when a local legend was being fit for his eternal crown seems like an oddly unforgivable one. I guess I feel bad for Paul Pierce, but - considering this was marked on the calendar well before the Cavaliers roster needed a complete makeover - both he and the Celtics had to be to pretty damn cocky to be like "Yeah, lets stake our claim to the Eastern Conference before lifting #34 to rafters. What could go wrong?!". I don't want to say they got the drubbing they were asking for, but the only thing that makes for an even more inevitable disaster than giving LeBron James a reason to embarrass you is bringing your friend's crazy ex to his wedding as a plus-one. I appreciate the boldness of 'The Truth', but the hope that the Celtics were going to run his former rival out of their building before raising his jersey to the ceiling of it was nothing short of false.
Aside from that, congrats to Paul Pierce. He was well-deserving of the following moment, as well as the eternal company of Celtic greats...
Both On And Off The Ice, Brendan Gallagher Made A Complete Ass Of Himself By Going After P.K. Subban2/11/2018
At the risk of taking this discussion to a place that no one other than Al Sharpton wants to take it, I think we can all agree there's a couple things that all the players/coaches/executives/analysts that have had either disparaging or underhanded things to say about the player that serves as a breath of fresh kryptonite to hockey culture have in common. However, the one I want to focus on in this instance is their inevitable ability to get most people to rally around P.K. Subban. Seriously, the origin of all the proverbial rocks that get hurled at the personality-driven Predators' defenseman might as well be coming from the same glass house, because all they do is increase the wattage on the bright lights that he's always embraced being in. I know Brendan Gallagher's vision might not be 20/20 after hilariously incurring a self-inflicted cut above his eye by trying - and more importantly, failing - to take a run at his former teammate a full second after the puck had left his stick. Still, a regrettable flesh wound to his face isn't enough of an excuse for him to be completely blind to how dense he sounded in criticizing P.K. Subban for seeking the same attention that he, himself, was ever-so-quick to grant him. The Canadians forward could have went to the well of cliches to alter the course of the questioning, and instead he took a harmless inquiry as his opportunity to break the mold from which most repressed postgame answers are formed to make sure everyone knew he was actually saying everything by "saying nothing". To put it simply, talking a little shit and displaying some showmanship - as he always does - didn't make a defenseman who was -1 in a shootout victory part of the storyline today. Being the target of a someone that - both on and off the ice - came across as a catty, spiteful reflection of the universally mocked General Manager that traded him made a defenseman who was -1 in a shootout victory a part of the storyline today. I don't want to get into the wealth of good he does away from the rink, because P.K. Subban's charitable endeavors - while both extensive and honorable - aren't even relevant to this particular discussion about his perceived self-promotion. What is relevant is that - whether you see it as shameless or stimulating - that very same self-promotion pales in comparison to the newsworthiness of the hypocritical critiques of his character. As objectively lovable as he seems, P. K. Subban isn't beyond reproach. However, if you're going to come at him then you damn well better come harder than launching yourself uncontrollable in is direction for a check that ended up looking as stupid as "that opponent I just talked about not talking about for a full minute talks about himself too much" sounds. Especially when what he has to say is exponentially more interesting than anything and everything said or done by the bottom feeding organization that made him part of the Stanley Cup contender that accepts him and his celebrity.
I'm not going to lie to you. A part of me is genuinely concerned that - before I even knew they had started - the rest of the Winter Olympics have already been overshadowed by this non-participant's "will she, won't she" chase down of a walkie-talkie that, from a comedic standpoint, would have benefited greatly from being fast forwarded at 4X and set to the Benny Hill theme. I'll tune into another event or two out of fear of being labeled un-American, but if they don't get my heart pumping like that real-life dollar-bill-on-a-string routine then you can just expedite the closing ceremonies as far as I'm concerned. Maybe that's because I find most snow sports - no matter how high speed - to be rather monotonous and predictable after awhile. Maybe it has to do with my undying frustration with the absence of NHL players in South Korea. Maybe it's because I take a disproportional amount of pleasure in watching people fail in a repetitive and embarrassing fashion. Whatever the case may be, you absolutely cannot deny that you were on the edge of your seat for the entirety of what became an up-and-down, enthralling display of perseverance. The way that largely antiquated piece of technology just ever-so-slowly slipped from her fingertips like the frozen corpse of DiCaprio almost made me forget that the athletic feat placed in front of her was really just untimed human fetch. Perhaps the editing that went into the production of this viral clip is swaying my opinion, but grease up some two-ways, launch them down icy declines, have the most agile athletes from each country do all that is necessary catch up to them as quickly as possible, and you'll have my viewership each and every time. At the very least, that's more than can be said for that boring ass cross country skiing bullshit.
SportingNews- Early in the second half of the Bulldogs' 83-65 win against the 49ers, La. Tech senior Jacobi Boykins was hit with what is undoubtedly, unequivocally, undeniably, unquestionably the most egregious, asinine, absurd, erroneous technical foul in the history of college, forget that, competitive basketball.
With about 15 minutes remaining in the second half, the 6-6 senior jumped a passing lane to make a steal then raced to the other end of the floor and threw down a thunderous, left-handed dunk from outside the semi-circle in the painted area of the lane. Pleased with the energizing play he'd just made, he briefly glanced at a Charlotte player, smiled and hustled to get back on defense. But, apparently, the exuberance Boykins exhibited while playing, you know, a game, was too much for one official. Boykins was whistled for a technical, his second of the game, and tossed from the contest. ----- The last thing I would want to do is rationalize what was an absolutely preposterous excuse for officiating. The only way in which that whistle should have been blown, thus signaling the dismissal of a player that did nothing more than turn excellent defense into easy offense, is if the person's whose neck it was around was the team mother for Charlotte and she was trying to protect the fragile psyche of her boys. That being said, bad calls do happen. You hope they are never that bad, but bad calls do happen to even those with the best intentions. Point being, if you're going to be on the ass end of one that gets you promptly ejected from the game then it might as well be one that - more or less - gives you the title of the nation's most disrespectful dunker. That referee should still be shamed into turning in his stripes, but say you were in Jacobi Boykins shoes. Would you rather play out the last 15 minutes of a lopsided game against an overmatched foe, orrrrr be able to claim that you lived out the amateur equivalent of "ball so hard ma'fuckas wanna fine me" in a way that would make Kanye and Jay-Z watch the throne for the king of rim-rocking? Of course, it was probably hard for him to see in the moment, but that exclamation point of a throw down was a more provocative end to his performance than had he stayed in and passed it around the perimeter for a couple minutes before giving way to the end of the bench for garbage time. The way I see it, an inexcusable decision unintentionally made way for one kid's fittingly grand finale. Jacobi Boykins completed an absurdly common play, but he did it with such an unforeseen amount of gusto that the person who is responsible for having seen everything instinctually assumed that an act so profane simply had to be illegal in some way. Sound familiar?
I'll tell you one thing, it's a damn good thing the weather in Southern California is unlike that of any other NBA city, because - on the list of things that the Lakers and their fans currently suck at playing - basketball is followed closely by 'hard-to-get'. I know the people of Los Angeles love nothing more than star power, but how about picking their panties back up off the floor and saving some self respect for the offseason? Jeez, don't they realize they'll have plenty of time to fawn over Paul George and stop one step short of kissing his feet if/when he hits free agency? I'm not sure how intent the Thunder forward is on playing close to his hometown next year, but I do know that something in the Staples Center stunk last night and - for once - it wasn't the quality of basketball being played by the home team. I'm inclined to believe It was either the scent of desperation or Jack Nicholson's aftershave, and Jack Nicholson was alllllll out of aftershave. Isn't part of the allure of Los Angeles the prestige of it's most decorated franchise? Well, you could have fooled me, because trying to get a head start on the chase with a "WE WANT PAUL!" chant is the type of thing you'd expect from a fanbase whose free agency virginity had yet to have been taken. I wonder if Laker Nation is made up of the type of people to send triple texts throughout the process of pursing, because collectively announcing their desire for a visiting player in unison is basically the pro sports equivalent of doing so. I know LA sports fans lack as much shame as they lack loyalty, but for the sake of the all those who feel honored to have contributed to the raising of 11 banners, maybe don't honor thy opponent in the same way that you would a title run. Spreading their proverbial legs as wide as the Lakers spread their cap space is unbecoming of a true champion, but - then again - so is tampering...right Magic?
MSN- The agent for Los Angeles Lakers point guard Isaiah Thomas has shed some light on why things didn’t work out in Cleveland — and hinted at some coming tension with his new organization.
Amid indications that Thomas may not start for his new team, ESPN’s Rachel Nichols relayed a text message sent to her by Thomas’s agent, Aaron Goodwin, during The Jump’s NBA trade deadline special. It was written in capital letters: “HE’S NOT COMING OFF THE BENCH.” -------- Typically I wouldn't care any which way when a recently traded, undersized point guard providing the defensive wherewithal of a rogue parking cone to a 23-31 team got his minutes. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that I'd lean towards not giving the player that fit the previous description the satisfaction of his way solely out of principle. If not because demanding to be announced as a starter is a terrible way to ingratiate yourself to the team that just traded for you then because doing so second-hand by way of all caps is an offense that's - at the very least - punishable by ass splinters. Unfortunately, that player's name happens to be Isaiah Thomas. Yup, the same Isaiah Thomas that came out of nowhere to help turn around a franchise that is now better off without his services. The same Isaiah Thomas that went from in line for a long-term contract that was somehow both egregiously inflated and well deserved to potentially treading water in the deep end of the free agency pool with no one there to throw him a lifesaver. The same Isaiah Thomas that probably cost himself upwards of $100 million dollars by playing excellent playoff basketball through the tragic death of his sister and the initial deterioration of his hip. The same Isaiah Thomas that got rewarded for those efforts by getting shipped off to play just over a dozen dreadful games with the one person in the league whose ire you simply must not draw. The same Isaiah Thomas whose lasting image in the jersey of the back-to-back-to-back Eastern Conference champions is that of him helplessly seeking attention by clawing at the uniform of the person that had him moved like a puppy that needs help getting up on the couch. Again, he's in no place to be making demands, but - for the sake of his sanity - I really hope Isaiah Thomas gets his way no matter how childish he went about trying to do so. The poor bastard needs a win...even if that win comes in the form of being one of the first players out on the floor for yet another loss. Professional basketball is a cold-blooded business, but your heart has to be numb to not feel for the 2nd Team All-NBA player turned afterthought. So do the right thing Luke Walton, even if it's wrong for a team that just traded for a 5'7 personification of future cap space...
By The Admission Of Their Own Management, The New York Rangers Are About To Blow It The Eff Up2/8/2018
I don't want to make any assumptions about who the Rangers plan on moving, but this "it's going to be okay, please don't hate us" PSA begs one question and one question only. Exactly how extensive do they plan on the wreckage being if they are already doing damage control by giving their two weeks notice on the season two and half weeks prior to the trade deadline? I'm absolutely here for the explosion but I would suggest wearing safety goggles if you're headed to MSG anytime soon, because the timing of that "message" comes across as a preemptive softening of the type of blowup that diverts traffic for months on end. I don't personally know nor do I personally care which particular perennial losers Rangers' diehards feel are closest to kin. However, I would suggest they start distancing themselves now, because you don't spend two paragraphs babbling about a hypothetical future during a playoff race (no matter how far back from the leader you've fallen) unless your present is about to become your past. "RangersTown" (insert all the eye-rolls) is about to be under heavy construction for an indefinite period of time, and I know this because they - themselves - just reached out to each and every one of their fans publicly to give them a forewarning to mark their calendars, plan their detours, and beware the rubble. Honestly, I just feel bad for the crown-less king that's decided to go down with what's nothing more than a self-proclaimed castle. |
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