Jaylen Brown Somehow, Someway Managed To Walk Off Under His Own Power After Taking A Vicious Fall3/9/2018
You know, for all the hell we give to the injury prone athletes whose bone structure serves as the tax after winning the genetic lottery, we really should give more credit to those that end up insanely prone but somehow avoid injury. In a weird way, Jaylen Brown walking off the court under his own power after taking some time to get his wits about him was more athletic than the end-to-end, two-hand slam that resulted in the horrific fall in the first place. I mean, his back turned into an accordion in a way that makes you happy that viral videos of stupid/drunk people attempting physical feats they are wildly incapable of completing usually conclude instantaneously with impact, yet this was the final diagnosis...
A headache. A fucking headache. Jaylen Brown almost kicked himself in his skull while falling flat on his back on a hardwood floor from like 8.5 feet in the air and - assuming he passed some sort of concussion test - he's dealing with the same amount of suffering you or I would be if we had too many sugary drinks the night prior. All it takes more me to get a headache is bumping my head on an open freezer door, and the Celtics swingman is out here in need of nothing more than a few Advil after dropping from a second story. There's obviously a certain amount of luck that goes into avoiding injury when your body is no longer under your control in a precarious situation, but it's also safe to say that walking away from that plummet relatively unscathed is something that can only be done by someone that is damn near a different species. I'd rather he continue to impress me on the court than by managing to peel himself off of it, but - according to the plot of The Sixth Man - the latter was death defying.
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First and foremost, as someone who wasn't in the room, I can only be so sure that a league who historically struggles with reaching and relating to a...umm...lets go with...diverse audience didn't sit down their players and make it a point that they be MORE polarizing in public forums. That said, I feel pretty confident there was a massive misunderstanding here, because you don't even have to pick a side to say that the one that baseball caters to typically demands a separation of pitching and politics. Like, something tells me the Cleveland Indians were told to "use twitter to market yourselves and the sport", but all Trevor Bauer heard was the word "twitter" and it literally and figuratively triggered his desire to 'Make America Great Again' by way of divisive drivel. After all, the alternative would be that the MLB "finally" came around on letting their athletes imply that their fans should take their own lives....
I hate to rain on this whole demonstration of disingenuousness, but to say it's hypocritical to encourage professional athletes to productively and responsibly use a platform after taking said platform away from a professional athlete who proved incapable is a laughable misuse of the word. To put it in terms Trevor can understand, it's fake fucking news. You can be a leader without the incessant use of the word 'libtard'. You can take a stance without it being a contentious one that serves absolutely no purpose other than to alienate paying customers. Baseball has a hard enough time reaching the the younger demographic without becoming the sport that promotes political propaganda. Therefore, I question that's what this alleged meeting was aimed at doing. On the off chance it was, however, I highly doubt those in charge of a league that embraces repressed, conservative values on and off the field is acting as the anti-Putin and robotically boosting only leftist beliefs. To put it simply, the Indians' resident snowflake didn't get censored for openly being a Trump supporter, he got censored for openly being a gaping asshole about it in a way that makes both he and his employer look bad. Ironic that he can't see the difference since he was almost undoubtedly calling for the firing of Jemele Hill...
SportingNews- Stedman Bailey has made tremendous strides recovering from a drive-by incident where he was shot in the head and ended up in critical condition. Many thought his football career would end there, however, he's ready to prove his playings days aren't over yet.
Bailey worked out at Marshall's pro day Wednesday hoping to get the attention of some NFL scouts. “I don’t think the Mountaineers would be happy to see this, but at the same time, those guys and everybody back in Morgantown knows what kind of mission I’m on,” Bailey told the Huntington Herald-Dispatch. “This is the first opportunity for me to show scouts what I’ve got and how I’m feeling. I don’t care about the colors. I’m just here to capitalize on the opportunity.” The 27-year-old said he had surgery in October to insert a plate into his skull, which "changed the game" for his return. The Herald-Dispatch noted the plate is stronger than a skull bone and will be able to protect him against forceful hits he would take playing in the NFL. “I never had a doubt in my mind that I’d be able to play again,” Bailey said. “It kind of hurt with reports from doctors that I may not be able to walk or I may have trouble speaking again. Me, just being a positive person that I am, I just waved those reports off like, ‘OK, we’ll see.’ I set it in my mind to show them differently." --------- Seeing as I'm not much of a Mike Mayock or Mel Kiper, giving Stedman Bailey a passing grade on my eye test doesn't say all that much about his chances of completing what would be a hell of an NFL comeback. He looked pretty quick off the line and adjusted well to the off-target ball that he caught against air, but my endorsement isn't the one he's looking for in trying to win back an opportunity that was taken from him by life-threatening circumstances. That said, I feel pretty confident in saying that someone who went from potentially unable to regain his ability to walk and/or speak to running routes with hopes of impressing professional scouts has already become a fell-good story of perseverance. Obviously he didn't battle all the way back from near death and get a plate surgically inserted in his skull just so he could become a heartwarming sidenote during the NFL offseason, but if that's all it ends up being then he'll have overcome far more than most. I, for one, hope a team takes a chance on him come training camp. Regardless of whether or not he looks to have the goods to people who have a keener eye for them, there's no telling what type of odds can be defeated by someone with his level of drive and desire. SI- The interview schedule includes a room number—not a team name—but prospects at the scouting combine are given a map of which team would be in which room for the 15-minute sessions. So by the time Baker Mayfield arrived for his interview with the Browns, he was prepared to meet head coach Hue Jackson and GM John Dorsey. He just wasn’t anticipating what happened next. Right off the bat, before the handshakes and intros, and before the Heisman trophy winner sat down, Dorsey in his booming Southern Maryland drawl fired one across the bow. “So you like food trucks?” Early last year, Mayfield was arrested after fleeing while being questioned by the police over a fight that occurred amidst a cluster of food trucks in Fayetteville, Ark. With Dorsey’s jab, everyone had a nice laugh at Mayfield’s expense, Mayfield included. Then they got down to business. ------- You know what, I actually like this move. That may run slightly contrary to what I said here, but - seeing as he didn't get caught drunkenly blowing a dude behind a dumpster the night prior to a game - there was really no basis for wondering where Derrius Guice fell on the scale of sexual fluidity. The same can't be said for Baker Mayfield's apparent proclivity for eating on the move, since a congregation of food trucks served as the audience for the fight he eventually failed miserably to flee.. So, while I'd prefer NFL teams err on the side of asking relevant questions to the players they are trying to mentally dissect, I'm totally cool with them asking a seemingly irrelevant one if it's intended at both introducing the elephant into the room and giving it a seat at the table. I am a little surprised it came from an organization like the Browns, that's provided no shortage of equally embarrassing ammo with their long, decorated history of quarterback flops and follies. Still, all things considered, using a rhetorical question (everyone loves food trucks) was a fairly clever way to reference a very valid concern. Not sure why it's such a rarity for teams to address prospective employees in a relatable manner that encourages them to open up, as opposed to addressing them in a confrontational manner that pushes them into a corner where they are liable to start protecting their image. Oh well, credit to the one organization that's figured out how counterproductive that can be...even if it's because said organization is all too familiar with running counter to productive. Let's take it back to last year real quick. When a drive-thru doze off resulted in a pitcher's DUI and a pitcher's DUI resulted in this odd press conference in which the Kansas City's GM, Dayton Moore, chose to irrelevantly denounce pornography and allllll the domestic abuse that it's baselessly responsible for... In the moment, you may have thought it to be a deflection mechanism that was just preposterous enough to shift the focus from Royals' starting pitcher Danny Duffy, who got a hankering for a Happy Meal after taking down a 12 pack of Heineken. Well, if that's all it was, as opposed to a true and genuine stance against taking temporary pleasure in watching strangers have sex, then I'll be damned if they haven't stuck to that strategy more tightly than the pages of a repurposed Victoria's Secret catalogue...
You see, the picture above is not of an organization being taught the dangers of drugs and alcohol after one of their own ignored the existence of Uber and put the lives of innocent people in jeopardy by driving when he was too drunk to keep his eyes open. Nope. This might be tough to tell given the sternness of the looks across their faces, but it's actually a group of grown ass men in their early 20's to late 30's being told that the substance that's most likely to put a strain on their relationships is the semen they've been self-inducing since middle school. Professional athletes, who may have wives and girlfriends whose access pales in comparison to that of temptation, being scolded for using a readily available muse for their masturbation. Never mind that those same guys could walk into a bar and seduce a sultry stranger using that very same internet to Google themselves. Traveling all throughout the country as well-off and in-shape borderline celebrities to play 162 games a season (plus playoffs) isn't the real killer of love and monogamy, living vicariously through the well-endowed and uninhibited while clearing both their pipes and their head is! Oh well, at least one open-minded team has their priorities straight and is fighting the good fight against "the new drug" that is carnal instincts and sexual desires. It's not like the old drugs are still altering minds to the point in which one might find the risk of basic human safety to the reward of freshly fried chicken nuggets to be a worthy one. SportingNews- Appearing on SiriusXM NFL Radio, LSU running back Derrius Guice said one team representative at the NFL Scouting Combine in Indianapolis last week asked whether he was homosexual. Such a question is prohibited under the league's Excellence in Workplace Conduct policy and potentially illegal under state law.
"Man, it was pretty crazy, bro," a laughing Guice said when asked to recall the most unusual question he fielded at the Combine. "Some people really try to get in your head, man, and really just test your reaction and see what your reaction is going to be. "I'd go in one room and a team would ask me, ‘Do I like men?' just to see my reaction. They'd try to bring up one of my family members or somebody and tell me, ‘Hey, man, I heard your mom sells herself. How do you feel about that?' Just random stuff like that, man, to see how you respond." ------- All it takes is one. One short-tempered prospect who is confident enough in his draft stock to react how any person not under the microscope of overly intrusive NFL organizations would react. One big fish who knowingly takes the bait of condescending instigation and hooks off on a scout that thinks a question that basically equates to "you gay, bro?" is some foolproof test of mental acuity. Maybe then these employees of NFL teams will be a little wary of telling freakish athletes that their mothers are hookers instead of actually getting to know them as people. I mean, probably not. In reality, it would likely just result in some jackass with a black eye who feels like he unveiled a fatal character flaw by picking a fight with a football player dropping said football player down a draft board. But still, I'm keeping the dream alive that one day an NFL scout might get some sense knocked into him and serve as a cautionary tale for everyone of his peers that comfortably goes against just about every one of 2018's social norms by being far too interested in where a certain prospect puts their penis. I feel pretty confident in saying that whatever is to be learned from testing someone's ability to keep their composure by calling the person that birthed them a street walker in a relatively formal setting is not nearly enough to justify the implication that homosexuality needs to be highlighted and underlined in the 'con' section of a scouting report. Unfortunately, I feel just as confident that nothing will change and we'll just continue to get George Costanza-esque "I...I...I...didn't know I couldn't do that" type apologies after the fact.
Now it's all starting to make sense, and I say that not because Alvin Kamara's ridiculous training regime looks as though it's more than capable of providing him the strength to effortlessly slip and shed professional tacklers like he just bathed in Vaseline. Instead, I say it because the relative ease with which he is apparently able to lug an oversized motor vehicle down the street while simultaneously hauling around an entire home gym on his back is reminiscent of the calmness and coolness he displayed while dodging, ducking, and discarding of professional football's most feared defenders. Seriously, if you turned down the volume and judged solely by his speed and tempo you'd think the Saints' do-it-all back was simply going for a leisurely morning power walk. You definitely wouldn't think he was in the process of hand delivering James Harrison his exercise equipment in one trip. So don't treat the "casually" in the headline as sarcastic, unless you know of someone else who makes the supernatural look so smooth on such a routine basis. Alvin Kamara went from a glorified third string running back to the Offensive Rookie Of The Year with an all-world performance that put him amongst elite company in NFL history, but more impressive than all the big plays, touchdowns, and accolades was how insanely easy he made them all look. At least now we know that's because he actually makes everything he does look insanely easy, even if it's doing double duty as a human tow truck during his offseason workouts. For your viewing pleasure...
As goes the plot to approximately 87.3% of romantic dramas, nothing brings people together quite like sharing a traumatic experience. In movies, that trope is generally used to explain the formation of eternal love. In reality, there is nothing more traumatic than realizing that no amount of coaching experience can prepare you for the impossible undertaking of teaching the Cleveland Browns how to win. Ipso facto, why can't it also be used to explain the formation of gluttonous bingers between grown men that were lucky enough to get canned by the same dysfunctional employer? I don't want to let all these party-goers off the hook, because they share some of the blame for the Browns' woes. Their inability to help reverse a losing culture only made it more and more deep-seated. That said, if there's a team whose long-term prognosis can drive a bunch of fired dudes to drink in celebration of no longer being a paid part of it then it plays football in the city of Cleveland. The concept of bonding over a mutual ex is a lot more common than people think. When that ex is well-known for being the type to drag down every person with which they form a relationship, the bonding typically results in the literal and figurative lifting of spirits...even if it done at a literal and figurative Rock Bottom.
I can't sit here and guarantee that Marcus Williams will bounce back better than ever after suffering the type of season-defining setback that makes you a universally recognized name for all the wrong reasons. Promising players with just as much potential have had their careers turned into nothing more than punchlines by circumstances that were similarly unfortunate and unforgettable. He, himself, called it an actualized nightmare, so to pretend that it's an impossibility that the game-winning-tackle-that-wasn't won't haunt him going forward would be a disservice to the trials and tribulations that someone like Bill Buckner faced in distancing his name from a defeat that was pulled from the jaws of victory. Now, all that being said, there's no shortage of reasons to believe that he won't put what's been deemed a mistake-aided miracle in his past. Even if you think it's irrelevant that he had instantaneous support from the majority of a fanbase that largely triumphed over the troubles of technology to rally behind him instead of against him. If he's as ready for redemption as this video indicates then he's in the perfect head space with the proper work ethic and a soundtrack that could hype him into running straight through whatever mental blocks might still be trying to block him from perseverance. I've remained optimistic that Marcus Williams' most notorious moment on a NFL field is still yet to come from the second Stefon Diggs hit playoff pay dirt, but nothing reinforced my belief in his continued development quite like knowing that at any given moment he might be listening to the speech from Any Given Sunday. If we are being totally honest, he whiffed on that fairly routine tackle by a couple of feet, but if he's been in the gym channeling his inner-Al Pacino all offseason then the amount of inches he'll be adding up come September may be able to cover the ground he gave up in the fateful finale of what was an otherwise auspicious rookie campaign. The fact is, he'll never totally separate himself from a highlight that will easily outlast his stay in the NFL, so it's good that Marcus Williams hasn't run away from the most torturous of replays. It's even better that instead he's decided to carry it with him in the form of a chip on his shoulder.
Unbelievable. Life imitating art. Who's on first, What's on second, and Watt's on his third misheard "what?" while nearing an early shower. I'd say you couldn't even script an interaction so infuriatingly confusing, but Abbott and Costello would sue me for defaming their cultural importance with such an ignorant suggestion. Anyway, I typically chastise presumptuous officiating, but I begrudgingly sympathize with the ref here. As a self aware person who'd rather obliviously smile and nod than ask for further verbal clarification more than twice, I'd appreciate having the ability to eject everyone that doesn't participate in that practice out of whatever social setting I happen to be in at that particular time. I can't, in good conscience, criticize this official for being quick to throw someone out of a game when my trigger finger would be just as itchy if it were wrapped around a red card that could save me from repeating myself in a crowded bar. Not to cross sports here, but I tend to think that a "three strikes and you're out" (with a strike being a use of the word "what?") policy works perfectly for society, never mind soccer. Just look at the numbers. The amount of Watt's inconvenienced by having their name misunderstood as a potentially condescending question pales in comparison to the amount of people that would be convenienced by having the ability to bring an abrupt end to nauseatingly repetitive conversations. Sorry Sanchez, but this is one of the few cases in which I have the back of an overeager official. So work on your tone, or make sure you always have a third party present to explain it. Be forewarned, the following is NSFW if you root for the Devils. I'm not sure if it's best classified as erotica, but you're going to feel some feeling that might have you going hard while watching what amounts to soft-core porn for fans of New Jersey's finest. Hopefully you're working from home during this blizzard, because this is best viewed behind the privacy of closed doors...
What a difference a year makes. The 26 (and counting, Lord Stanley willing) game point streak has forced the conversation, but the transformation of Taylor Hall's reputation would be a hell of a talking point regardless of his steady climb amongst historical company. From getting condemned for your lack of leadership and scapegoated as Patient Zero for the losing culture that - wouldn't you know it - still plagues the Edmonton Oilers to having the legendary leader of a franchise that was damn close to being a dynasty offer to lower his number from the rafters on your behalf. Have Drake put together the score for what's legitimately become a cinematic story line that most of Canada can get behind, because only in movies do you start from the bottom and get here this quickly. Now obviously, the proposal to take the number '4' from New Jersey Devils' lore and place it on the heavily weighted back of someone who is leading their resurgence in more ways than just scoring was one that was halfheartedly made in jest. However, since there has never been anything comedic about the times in which Scott Stevens has stood up, anything said prior to his rare attempt at humor was far more sincere than any set-up. I'm pretty sure it took two decades of appreciating Patrik Elias for someone who's almost as difficult to impress as he was to intimidate to admit that even the most gifted forward is anything more than a moving target, so the praise he just heaped on Taylor Hall is no laughing matter. Simply put, this isn't your "average" endorsement from a former player whose career now makes a home out of the 'Hall Of Fame'. If you meet Scott Stevens' standards of maturity, versatility, leadership, courage, and toughness then not only do those traits undeniably represent you, but you undeniably represent those traits. So, how can you not consider Taylor Hall in contention for the Hart Trophy when the most dominant defensive presence of a generation who exemplified heart and was the first to raise no shortage of trophies just waxed poetic about him in a way that leaves every Devils' fan in need of some alone time? Hell, even if you find other candidates just as deserving, the last person I'd want to argue stats and semantics with while determining the definition of 'value' is the coldblooded bad ass that made the absolute most out of his. Right, Scotty?
I don't know that there is necessarily a "good" way to go out as a likely soon-to-be-unemployed coach of a team in a Power 5 conference that lost nineteen straight to end their season, but I'll be damned if Kevin Stallings didn't find just about the worst way. As the dick-tator type whose resume is not nearly decorated enough to justify his disposition, his players already didn't respect him as a professional. Now, I'd be hard pressed to say they respect him as a person after watching his clipboard absorb his best blow only to bounce back in a way that basically said "what now, bitch?". I'm not even sure what's a worse look to be honest. Failing to crack Dick's finest drawing board with your knee when it's not even built to withstand a kid's karate class, or casually moving on to the next inevitably unsuccessful off-ball screen like it never happened. Talk about a quitter's mentality. Granted, his tenure at Pittsburgh has probably come to a close, but how can he expect athletes to commit their future to whatever unfortunate program he ends up with next when he can't even commit to taking out his frustrations on an inanimate object? By throwing a bit of a fit with mere seconds remaining in a closely contested postseason game he already looked like a petulant child. Might as well have done with some conviction instead of having his whole team focused on the fact that a reinforced piece of cardboard got the best of the man that's supposed to be leading them. Jason Terry And Lance Stephenson Got Embroiled In A Blow Off During The Pacers/Bucks Game Last Night3/6/2018
How wild is it that 'Jet' still flying around the NBA at the tender age of no younger than 50 while looking not a day older than he did when he landed himself a championship is unquestionably more shocking than the fact that he engaged in a blow off with the man that originated the oddly intimate act of trolling? Like, the most surprising part about this back-and-forth is not that Jason Terry and Lance Stephenson chose to celebrate their respective 3's like the type of children that fall back on the "I'm not touching you! I'm not touching you!" defense, but rather that - in the year 2018 - they are both still draining 3's in the NBA. Of course, my lack of surprise in regards to two grown men blowing in each other's ears in public speaks to the prevailing pettiness of professional basketball, but god bless the two grown men in question for having the longevity to stick around the NBA and give us viral moments that remind us that they exist. The beauty of sports is that we've never seen it all, and last night providing the first competitive breathe battle in league history by way of two players whose cockiness far transcends their roles is proof positive of that.
Flames' Defenseman Travis Hamonic Appeared To Mock The Weight Of A Heckler As He Left The Ice3/6/2018 Typically I'm not one for fat jokes. Much like the fruit that hangs as low as the gut of that unseen fan of the home team, they are often too ripe for my liking. Unfortunately, when you're in a hurry to head back down the tunnel after a road loss there's just not all that much to go off of in responding to a heckler other than their appearance. Some might say the easy solution to that quagmire would be to stick to the professional aspect of your job as an athlete and not say anything at all, but who am I blame Travis Hamonic for wanting to be more than just the bigger man? If the Flames' defenseman had brushed off whatever insult was directed his way do you know what would have happened next? Absolutely nothing. No public/viral shaming of a loud-mouthed observer. No reason for said blowhard to either stop being a dick, or for him to mix in a salad so he can see his. You may call it a fat shaming when one man - presumably in a hyperbolic fashion - mimics the looks of another in the same way that someone might act out the 'blowfish' card during Charades, but I call it a selfless attempt at teaching another man both the error of ways and the pitfalls of his diet. I'm not sure we can definitively say which line of thinking is right, but I sure as shit know that the fatty that figured he could run his mouth free of a comeback was in the wrong.
Well, that was unexpectedly awesome for a variety reasons. I would be remiss if I didn't mention that one of those reasons is that, in my experience, high school coaches are more likely to self important ignoramuses whose knowledge of the sport pales in comparison to their incessant need to prove their knowledge of the sport, but I'm glad my experience wasn't shared by all. Especially since, in this case, that mutual reverence resulted in the type of mature, emotional expression of gratitude that you very rarely - if ever - see from a teenager, never mind one that just lost the State Championship in his senior season by a single point. In the moment, that speech probably says more about the character of Terrell Jones, but from a big picture perspective it's a reflection of the type of leadership instilled in him by his head coach. Those Coach Taylor-types become harder and harder to come by once the Friday Night Lights get dimmed, so credit to Coach Smith for doing such a good job turning Boyz II Men that the most experienced of them was able to put the journey in perspective when he reached the end of the road. The man who was understandably brought to tears by that speech deserves as much respect for providing a role model to young, impressionable athletes as that particular young, impressionable athlete does for letting his role be modeled in a way that commands respect.
By any chance, do we have a footage of the first and only spring practice that Ed Oliver participated in prior to declaring that it would be the last first spring practice he participated in? I'm sure that the NFL has long been in the cards for a player that dominant, but making it official after one single day means that day must have been an absolute doozy. As far as I am concerned, this is more telling than had he announced his fairly obvious plans for the future a month ago, because a preseason declaration shows confidence but a post-practice declaration shows re-affirmed confidence. Like, I'm liable to believe that if the AAC's reigning Defensive Player Of The Year hadn't announced his intentions then Houston's offensive line would have done it for him, because he probably put them through the goddamn ringer in quickly validating his decision before making it public. Prematurely coming to the conclusion that his stay in college had already run it's course during the indoctrination into the season is like coming to the conclusion that the relationship you're going to continue to drag on for far too long had run it's course during scheduled coitus. Needing no more than one more all-too-telling conquest to tell him everything he needed to know about where things were headed means that conquest must have been routine as fuck. Routine for Ed Oliver just so happens to involve being freakishly athletic and unstoppable, but routine nonetheless.
Greatness is to be appreciated. Giving up 5 points in a half and zero points in a quarter requires greatness, no matter how much that greatness was aided by offensive incompetence. Therefore, I appreciate what the Lady Huskies did by snatching the entirety of Cincinnati's competitive spirit away from them while running them out of the gym. Unfortunately, and the following is a testament to their level of dominance, but the downside of being great is that you become largely fucking boring in the process...
You can call Darren Rovell a buzzkill but don't you dare call him a liar, because any UConn fan that thinks they truly enjoyed a game whose outcome was decided before half the attending audience even found their seat doesn't know what it's like to truly enjoy a sporting event. I suppose the unexpected relaxation provided by the occasion blowout can be fun, but the edge-of-your-seat thrills couldn't be fewer and farther between when it's a bi-weekly occurrence...
As anyone that has played sports at a high level can tell you, even playing in games that lopsided with that much regularity isn't all that entertaining, so UConn fans should really embrace the fact that there's nothing exciting about 75-21 final. This isn't some takedown of the premiere destination in all of college basketball either. Any game - whether it's being played by men, women, children, or fucking orangutans - loses it's luster when it becomes that uncompetitive. If watching teams get the snot kicked out of them was a pleasurable viewing experience then the rating of the Phoenix Suns would be higher than those of a Golden State Warriors team who - for all their skill - at least occasionally give the illusion that they might lose. So let's not pretend it's some huge slight to UConn to say that their games are a complete snooze-fest. Admittedly, it sucks that one of their most impressive accomplishments as a program was met with a collective yawn, but that's the price of doing business when your business is being so much more talented than every single team you play against that more often than not you could sleepwalk to victory. They shouldn't apologize for being a well-oiled machine, but neither should sports fans for actively choosing to let that machine run unsupervised given the forgone conclusion of its irreproachable production. CBSSports- When Kendal Briles left for Houston, Kiffin knew exactly who he'd go after. Falcons coach Dan Quinn reluctantly lost Charlie Weis Jr. A budding career in the NFL was ended for now to call plays for one of the best play callers in the business. "He had all A's in every single thing he's ever done," Kiffin said. "Normally those kids can't socialize. That's not him at all. "He's got a beautiful wife. How'd Charlie get her? I look at assistant coaches' wives. It tells me if they are good recruiters or not." ----- For what that statement lacks in meeting 2018's standard for political correctness, it more than makes up for in embodying every assumption that has ever been made about the values of Lane Kiffin. I'm sure the concept of hiring football coaches based on the attractiveness of their wives was just a tongue-in-cheeky quotable, but if there were every someone liable to both put it into action and speak of it publicly then it be the head coach of your Florida Atlantic Owls. I can totally understand why people might find the mere suggestion that college football's predominant womanizer potentially ogles unsuspecting women that are spoken for in staffing his program to be misogynistic, but at least he's open about his biggest flaws. If nothing else, that's more than can be said about a lot of people in his profession. Apparently, we are all acutely aware of what's on the mind of Lane Kiffin at almost all hours of the days, so he might as well embrace it by way of mildly offensive humor instead of pretending he's some sort of changed man or something. And if we were to unnecessarily think critically about the absurd thought process behind judging a book by the cover of the person that's decided to read it - and only it - over, and over, and over again until death do them part, I am not so sure it's as awful in execution as it is in theory. As discussed in depth by everyone's favorite social pariah, it's typically men of low character that outback their coverage. As the architect behind college football's probational halfway house, just about the last job recruitment on Lane Kiffin's list is ethics... If Larry David were looking for a way to excel in college sports by way of conscience-free persuasion there would be need to curb his enthusiasm towards those able to trick hotter women into prematurely taking their hand eternally by the tender age of 24. While that might not be the most impressive aspect of Charlie Weis Jr.'s resume, it's tough to take a look at the following picture and tell me it's not towards the top...
And there you have it, proof that the casual prejudice of overly simplistic stereotypes goes from problematic to hilarious when it's directed at white males. If you have no sense of humor then call it a double standard. If you have a closet full of ivory-colored hooded linens then call it an obscure rationalization that racially-derived privilege is a facade and a fabrication. However, if you're a normal person with a fully functioning brain then call Deion Sanders' genuinely intrigued reaction to a white dude running really fast the purest form of unintentional comedy, because that's exactly what it was. A lean, long-legged defensive back who has the look of a former track athlete covered 40 yards with more zest than he uses to season his chicken, and you would have thought that the professional analyst on sight just watched a nose tackle break the space-time continuum. There was something so authentic about "he can RUN run!" that made is sound so much less precarious than "he runs like a black guy!" when in reality those are synonymous sayings. Hell, when Deion Sanders asked for clarification on the pronunciation of his last name I was half surprised he didn't blurt out "are you sure your first name in Troy?" because I'm pretty sure that's the only thing holding Primetime back from projecting this Forrest Gump reincarnate to go higher in the racial draft. There's something to be said about the pleasantness of that surprise, even if it was the product of expectations that were slightly less fair than the former Penn State safety's complexion.
The story of Shaquem Griffin, while looking like it still has many, many chapters that remain to be written, is an inspiring tale of perseverance that should be universally loved by everyone that doesn't see their ambidexterity as the sole reason to keep their NFL dream alive. Viewing an undeniable and unavoidable handicap as nothing more than a source of motivation in overcoming it requires a level of positivity and determination that is rarely seen, even throughout a profession as competitive as professional sports. If that's not obvious to you after watching an athlete defy a birth defect and the subsequent doubt that it caused to absolutely body the combine with no more than one hand then it should be after taking a closer look at his character...
Now, uplifting story aside, I would love to see what Shaquem Griffin's sensational scouting report is doing to the oft-biased and forever-compartmentalized braintrusts of NFL front offices. Theoretically, a workout warrior that not only has eye-popping athleticism but also a highly decorated college resume checks enough boxes, but one that is without both an official position and opposable thumbs? That variety of seemingly conflicting ingredients would have the most accomplished of chefs getting Chopped, never mind those that have a hard time thinking outside the box when it comes to defending it. Considering how laughably overvalued the combine is and how laughably undervalued a damn near demonic amount of desire is, the kid that topped the charts on both might have the one track minds of the NFL's finest headed towards a head-on collision with common sense. Simply put, judging on generalities is as effective in projecting the professional potential of Bigfoot as it is in projecting the professional potential of Shaquem Griffin. Therefore, I envision directors of football operations looking something like this when trying to justify giving a B/C grade to a player that's aced every test... Obviously, having one hand in a sport as physically demanding as football should affect his draft stock. That said, I think even those determining said draft stock realize that it's a variable that almost undoubtedly will factor far too heavily in calculating the value of a highly talented kid whose ability to channel that inevitable slight has proven invaluable. |
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