Well ladies and gentlemen of the Who Dat Nation, there is your answer. The New Orleans Saints - under the scouting leadership of Jeff Ireland - are wholeheartedly committed to drafting the best player available. If the news that they were the absence of a Marshon Lattimore away from using the 11th pick to select a back-up quarterback for a defensive deficient team wasn't proof of that...
...then the direction they went with their wealth of picks on day two certainly was. After Sean Payton spent months talking about improving the pass rush, the Saints did all that they could to poke and prod a fanbase that would have been happy taking seven straight DE/OLB's and praying one of them panned out. I'm certainly glad they didn't do that. Not only because that would mean the front office is no smarter or any less emotional than the mob mentality of the internet, but also because - by all accounts - they filled a bunch of secondary holes in their roster with players that were more valuable than their draft slot. However, with the complete avoidance of adding an offensive guard last year and the painstaking wait for someone (i.e. anyone) that can bend the edge this year, you can argue that Mickey Loomis uses the draft as a way to ready the fans for the season by pandering to their "sky is falling" mindset. Regardless - outside the lens of outside linebacker - it's impossible to be disappointed with what the Saints were able to do. Securing their defensive backfield with an instinctive, ballhawking safety that could mature into the actualization of the type of player whose name shall remain unspoken as he counts the millions of dollars he essentially stole from the franchise? Getting the gadget back whose comparison to Reggie Bush and/or Darren Sproles is based on merit and performance instead of some incessant need for fans to recreate the glory years? That seems worth the (hopefully late) 2nd rounder they used to jump in and get him. I suppose I could have done without taking a flyer on a linebacker who probably already has a surgery scheduled for the shoulder he hasn't even re-re-re-seperated yet, but even he could hold massive value relative to draft position is he stays healthy. Ultimately, they did get their situational pass rusher with a high motor and a knack for turfing the quarterback. Of course he doesn't come without flaws considering he lasted until the end of round three. However, those are flaws that apparently aren't present in the New Orleans Saints overall draft grade*, and that's really all you can ask out of a weekend long crapshoot. The selections of Marcus Williams, Alvin Kamara, Alex Anzalone, and Trey Hendrickson may not have satisfied some fans, but they certainly satisfied a bunch of draft geeks and a host of roster needs that the Saints clearly weren't about to reach for. *Immediate draft grades are stupid, meaningless, and premature...unless your team resides at the top of them. Everyone knows that.
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Bear with me here, because it's inherently difficult to put speechlessness into writing. I am fully aware of how depressing the following is, but - barring the Taylor Hall trade - the Devils haven't given their fanbase a thrill like this since the 2012 Cup run. Five years and the most exhilarating moment was winning gold in the 'Special Olympics' of sucking by the literal bounce of a ball. Teams have certainly gone through worse droughts, but ask the one guy that has made New Jersey's woes seem slightly less cataclysmic (Cory Schneider) and I bet he'd tell you this feels like stumbling upon an open spring in the middle of the Sahara. As someone that probably spent well over $1,000 on overpriced beer in a half empty arena to numb the pain caused by pathetic hockey, I can certainly echo that sentiment. So spare me with the "this draft sucks anyway" nonsense. Not because it's completely untrue, but because the ignorant falsehood that the Devils somehow lucked/sucked into a Connor McDavid-esque revitalization isn't what has me excited. Hell, the prospect of having an NHL-ready franchise center (whether it be Nolan Patrick or Nico Hischier) get cooking without prep time isn't even what has me wishing it was October already. The thing that has me absolutely giddy is what winning the lottery does for the Devils' immediate future. This offseason was already setting up to be more productive than anything that took place on 'Prudential Center' ice this year. By all indications, Ray Shero has been working up towards this summer and I don't mean he's been spending a little extra time in the gym on his glamour muscles. He's been shredding contractual obligations and bulking up on draft picks, and the expansion draft has provided him the perfect excuse to pop his proverbial top off and flex on those who have been a little too gluttonous in their roster construction. There were already lop-sided trades to be made and overpaid signings to be negotiated. Mix in a potential return of a Russian lightning rod and the Devils' wealth of assets was starting to look like it could render the most elementary ideals of Communism moot. That was before they had a ready made talent - that will hopefully be a seamless fit in the middle of their top six - fall right into their fucking lap. Last year's first round pick - Mike McLeod - is on an absolute tear in the OHL playoffs, seems destined for an expedited NHL arrival, and has been regulated to the back page of the organizational news. As far as icing a team that is leaps and bounds closer to contending than the hopeless, defenseless debacle that was this year's New Jersey Devils, having the first overall pick - even in a "meh" draft - is a goddamned God-send. I would pull all caution from the wind and say that these next few months could create the "perfect storm", but with the sky looking a little bluer, the sun shining a little brighter, and the birds chirping a little louder...I think I'm just going to take the day to revel in hockey-induced happiness that seems long overdue. Let's save the never-ending Nolan/Nico debate for a later date. Not only because I have changed my mind on the matter about 25 times in the last 12 hours, but because I think I speak for a majority of Devils' fans when I say that my head isn't exactly clear. It's clouded by the number crunching necessary to understand the defiance of 91.5% odds. 8.5% baby, eight point fucking five percent.
P.S. Special thanks to Taylor Hall. That's the type of guy you need with you at the craps table. The haunting feeling of deja-vu probably awoke him from a dead sleep in a cold sweat upwards of a dozen times last night, but hopefully Ray Shero uses the leverage at his disposal to put a rabbit's foot in the rear of his PTSD...
P.P.S. Realllllly makes ya think...
I can't believe this. Actually, I won't believe this. New Orleans had far too good of a day for me to start questioning their sanity immediately after the fact. I'm just going to assume that Ryan Palmer and Jordan Spieth were zoning out and kept hearing Patrick Mahomes name because it's pretty public knowledge that he's someone the team would have targeted at 32 if he lasted anywhere near that long. The idea of Sean Payton and Mickey Loomis passing on the absolutely dumbfounding amount of blue chip defensive prospects that fell for no apparent reason to reach for a quarterback of the future at #11- no matter how much they liked him - would have made the collective head of the fanbase explode. I try to remain pretty optimistic and not overreact when one college player I know very little about gets selected over a host of other college players I know very little about. That said, if the Chiefs didn't make that trade and the Saints took the perfect draft day scenario and wiped their ass with it I would have either cried, screamed, or some extremely unsightly combination of both. Marshon Lattimore dropping was basically a dream come true for this franchise, so I'm going to chalk that potential nightmare up to a couple of professional golfers being overwhelmed by the frantic circumstances surrounding them. If only because it will allow me to breathe easy heading into day two. A Former Penn State Hockey Goalie Was Ticketed For Peeing On Strangers In A Public Bathroom4/28/2017  OnwardState- State College Police have cited former Nittany Lions goaltender Matt Skoff for allegedly peeing on two people in the Primanti Bros. restroom on Friday night, according to The Daily Collegian.
On Tuesday, police identified Skoff as the man from reports over the weekend that first urinated on the leg of a man while waiting in line for the restroom, then proceeded to break into a stall and peed on another person who was using the bathroom. Skoff was one of the starters from Penn State’s first season in NCAA hockey as a freshman. He played for Guy Gadowsky’s team from 2012-2016 and is the record holder in a number of categories in net as the only goalie with four-year starting experience. ------ This is such classic goalie behavior. I guess I should clarify that statement. I don't mean to say that the men behind the masks for more likely to whip it out and mark unsuspecting strangers as their territory after a couple dozen drinks. I do mean to say that no one could have possibly seen Matt Skoff's stream coming, and that's exactly the type of unpredictability that's predictable from those that choose - at a young age - to thanklessly block vulcanized rubber instead of garnering the praise by putting it in the net. Now, I'm sure the guy that had another man's urine soaking into the ass of his favorite Levi's didn't care whether the drunk asshole treating him like a human toilet was a netminder or an astronaut. The sorry son of a bitch that finally gave in to the knot in his stomach and decided to pinch one off in public? Probably not going to feel any better about the incident after finding out about the athletic prowess of the man who channeled R. Kelly playing Tony Soprano by kicking in the stall door and blasting him in the chest with a pitcher of re-purposed Natty Light. However, if I were in that ever-so-unfortunate situation and someone told me that he was a hockey goalie then maybe I would have let him up for air and muttered "fucking figures" before trying to flush his head back down the toilet. They are simply a different breed of human, and - while they don't always treat you like a fire hydrant while you're patiently waiting to relieve yourself - they are liable to act equally as strange. 
There you have it folks. Assuming that Larry Bird's resignation has nothing to do with his health or his family, this is proof positive that running a team that doesn't have a superstar is a job that's just as hopeless as starting for the Brooklyn Nets. There's not a soul in the NBA universe that thinks Paul George will be on the Indiana Pacers after next season, and one look at a roster without him was enough to make one of the most competitive players to ever step on the hardwood up and quit out of nowhere. 'Larry Legend' is sticking around as a "consultant" which, in sports circles, basically just means "give me a call if associating with you in any way will help my reputation as an executive". You don't need to tell the guy that just dropped his Presidential powers like they were a hot mic that that's not likely to be the case in the near future. 'Basketball Jesus' took one more long look at the tidal wave forming in the tumultuous seas of the organization and said "even I can't walk on that shit". If - and only if - he was going to turn water into wine he would have hoarded it all away for himself so that he could drink his way through a Jeff Teague-led transitional period. His namesake may have died for our sins, but he definitely isn't dying to get thrown under the bus by Paul George until he's forced into moving him for a return that will make the entire fan base turn on him as well. He may be widely considered a professional winner, but when it comes to full-on rebuilding during a period in which doing so takes damn near a decade of defeat? Larry Bird's trophy case is way too full to take on that stress. No One Has Every Given Less Of A Shit Than This Jimmy John's Employee That Got Robbed At Gunpoint4/28/2017  You ever been sitting online at a fast-food sub shop waiting to give your order, and come to the realization that you could never possibly do what the people behind the counter are doing? I know I have, and it's not because I'm not intelligent enough to slice turkey or stack cheese. Hell, it's not even because I would piss down my leg if a customer pointed a pistol at me to get more than his money's worth of extra meat. I couldn't sling sandos at a Jimmy John's because it takes a certain type of person to cater to everyone's overly specific preferences while constructing their goddamned meal. That type of person is one with mental fortitude. The first time someone told me to remake their sub because they only wanted a little bit of mayo I would be out the door and my apron would be in the dumpster. That's not the case for this kid. He's been hardened by his servitude. There's literally no inconvenience he hasn't been dealt by working at a glorified Subway. You think threatening the life of someone who dies inside every time he has to "run" to the back to get more C-quality roast beef is going to intimidate them? Come on now. He's basically been doing time. There's not a damn thing that guy could have done to him that he hasn't already thought about doing to himself. Sure, he'll empty the register on the off-chance there's actually a bullet in that gun and in the unlikely scenario that the guy holding it is willing to put one between his eyes. Just don't expect him to put any more pep in his step for an unruly customer, because he's got far too much experience taking shit from people to put forth extra effort. 
Pick #11, Marshon Lattimore
Negatives: Dealt with serious hamstring issues in the past. Positives: Literally everything else. Let me start by saying what every single Saints fan that watched the draft was saying to themselves as they saw the first 10 picks come off the board; Thank god for offensively starved teams, their early infatuation with wide receivers and running backs, and their flat out desperation for competent quarterback play. I love Mickey Loomis and Sean Payton, but - to the brain dead organizations that gave New Orleans their pick of the defensive litter - you the real MVP's! The Saints ended up with a player that was far too talented for his draft slot, at a position of need, and - somehow - there were still enough blue chippers on the board for a war room discussion to take place. I can't imagine that in their wildest dreams they envisioned Marshon Lattimore falling into their lap, and they damn sure didn't think they would have any reason to take a second to think about it before running to podium if he did. As for the player? I think we can all that this franchise hasn't had the best of luck drafting defensive backs. It's like there is already some unseen force working against them as soon as they put on a Saints jersey and step on the field. That's why you really have to be of sure of what they can bring to the table, and there is no player that brings more to the table than the consensus pick for top cornerback in the draft. Marshon Lattimore has everything you could possibly want out of a player at his position. The size. The speed. The desire to play press. The ability to shadow a wideout and be left alone on an island. The ball skills...
Assuming the kid's injuries are in the past then he's the total package, and - with only one full year of college football under his belt - that package likely isn't close to complete yet. The tools, the technique, and the potential are all there, and if he's able to put them together under Aaron Glenn then New Orleans not only got themselves their shutdown corner of the future, but they got him at a discounted rate. They entered the day needing defensive playmakers, and the board feel in such a fashion that they went home with a guy that was undeniably one of the five best in draft and an immediate, perfect fit. The fact that he's from a university with which the Saints front office has a ton of familiarity is just an added bonus...
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Pick #32, Ryan Ramczyk
Negatives: Doesn't sack quarterbacks. Positives: Literally everything else. I'm not going to tell you I was jumping up and down on my couch holding a "I <3 Ramczyk" sign when the Saints took him to close out the first round last night. I'm not even going to tell you that the idea that Brandin Cooks was traded for defensive help and instead netted an offensive tackle didn't momentarily irk me. What I will say is that the collective "huh?" that came over the fanbase when his name was announced doesn't make him any less of a value pick. In essence, just because it wasn't made at a position of desperate need doesn't mean it wasn't made at a position of need. I love Zach Strief as much as the next guy, but some people seem to forget that they were ready to stone him in the middle of the town square a year ago. Obviously he bounced back in a big way, but he's 34 years old and before yesterday his eventual "replacement" was starting at left guard. Terron Amstead is unbelievably talented, but he's also near-lock to miss a handful of games every season. The Saints bookended their bases by getting a guy who should be the right tackle of the future, with the very real possibility that the future is now. It sucks that Ryan Ramczyk isn't going to be bending the edge or pushing the pocket, but I much prefer getting a guy that was slotted to go in the top 15-20 as the second best offensive lineman as opposed to reaching for a second round talent. I'm rolling my eyes as I type this, but games are won in the trenches and Saints are now only a pass rusher away from being able to confidently fight a two front war. Once you put aside your personal expectations it becomes pretty difficult to argue against getting a guy that looks dominant on tape from a university that breeds successful players at that position.
Now, the only caveat to this selection is that it can't be followed by someone that's not going to have opposing quarterbacks picking grass out of their helmet. If the 42nd pick in the draft doesn't own explosiveness off the line then the Saints should hunker down and wait out the storm, because fans are going to raining hell fire from every angle. If you believe a single word they have said since the offseason started then I think agree with their need for a pass rush, but if they don't get one very, very shortly then the "best player available" explanation will fall on deaf ears. A message to Sean Payton and Mickey Loomis: Puh-puh-puh-puhlease don't do it to us. 
Welp, that'll do it. You can put down your pencils and pass your scorecards to the front, because I think we all know what this means. Adam Larsson is the second coming of Paul Coffey, Taylor Hall is 'Patient Zero' of a locker room epidemic that has temporarily poisoned every team he's ever played for out of playoff contention, and - most importantly - the Edmonton Oilers won the trade. No context necessary. Connor McDavid may have had 100 points during his first full NHL season, but even he can't score one for his former teammate here. The Devils made an irreparable mistake last summer, and - after last night - there is not a single thing that can be done by any of the parties involved to change that in the near or distant future. Trading their second most dynamic offensive player alone would have pushed the Oilers into the playoffs, but getting the most reliable player on the worst defense in hockey in return is what's currently pushing them through the playoffs. If you think otherwise then I would suggest you leave your nuance out of a clear-cut, black-and-white debate. In all seriousness, I'm happy for Adam Larsson. From crawling out from under the heavy heel of Peter Deboer to evolving into such a versatile, reliable defender that he was deemed worthy of being moved - straight up - for an elite offensive playmaker. He deserves this success, even if it does allow baselessly salty Edmonton fans to rag on their 2nd best draft pick in the last decade while completely ignoring the impact of their best draft pick of the past decade. Sometimes I think I would trade my left testicle to get him back in New Jersey. Then again, sometimes I think I undervalue my left testicle, because I definitely wouldn't undue the original deal. Regardless, a wry smile - similar to that of the Swedish stalwart that prided himself on busting Kyle Palmieri's balls - instinctually came across my face when Adam Larsson potted two last night. Though it was quickly followed by shockingly disparaging expletives about the entirety of Western Canada, that says a hell of a lot about player who just had his playoff coming out party.
 FTW- A lack of passion seemed to be the reason JaMarcus Russell, the first-overall pick in the 2007 NFL draft, crashed out of the league after only a handful of seasons in Oakland.
One story, which may be apocryphal, illustrates that fact perfectly. The story comes from Russell’s Raider teammate Warren Sapp, who relayed the story to Rich Eisen. Here’s the story according to Eisen… The Oakland coaching staff would routinely give Russell DVDs featuring gameplans and new plays for him to study. The coaches started to suspect the rookie wasn’t doing his homework and came up with a brilliant plot to test him. One day they asked Russell how he liked the gameplan on the DVD they had sent him home with the previous night. He said he did, but there was one problem: The coaches purposefully gave him a blank DVD. Their suspicions were confirmed. ------ I know, I know. I was hoping for a trustworthy source too. Unfortunately the front cover of the proverbial book reads "As Told By Warren Sapp", but I'm not going to let the fact that the story teller's mouth is an unmitigated garbage dump ruin the actual story for me. Hopefully you don't either and we can just agree to suspend disbelief, because - at the end of the day - who doesn't want to believe that every single tale about JaMarcus Russell's abortion (it was basically over before it started) of a career to be true? And since this is definitely "true" (right, guys? ::encouragingly shakes head::), I think it's safe to say there's never been a more depressing "ah HA!!!" moment in sports history. Catching someone in the act is supposed to be at least a littttttle satisfying. Coming to find out that you're giving 31 million guaranteed dollars to an overweight quarterback who won't do homework that literally only requires pressing play is about as gratifying of an outcome as walking in on your cheating skank of a wife blowing your brother. The Raiders had a feeling their massive investment/starting quarterback was digesting the wrinkles in the playbook as efficiently as a seven year old boy digests the vegetables that's he's been feeding to the dog. To stick with that analogy, by the time they confirmed those suspicions the dog was puking up brussels sprouts all over the carpet, and their kid had to go to the hospital with a Vitamin C deficiency. In essence, their long overdue trap left them with a fucking mess on their hands anyway. That's not to say I wouldn't have loved to see JaMarcus Russell's face when they told him the DVD was blank, but getting to do so certainly didn't ease any minds in Oakland's front office. 
In a weird way, this casual statement that actually reads as more of an observation than a discriminatory insult is even worse than a racial slur. Like, if you are even slightly more annoyed by a goal scored against your favorite team because it came from a black player's stick then you might as well just drop an n-bomb. While more shocking and hurtful, somehow that would feel less cowardly than hiding behind the offhanded vagueness of using an expletive to point out a guy's skin color. I can't say I expected better from someone named "Lord Dixick" - ruler of all that is inherently stupid - but there's nothing worse than being a closet racist that has a terrible excuse every time a little bit accidentally slips out. Credit to whoever runs the St. Louis Blues twitter account though. Most of the time similar idiocy goes unchecked, and they took time away from watching a playoff hockey game that was getting flat out dominated by...::audibly gasps::...a black guy to air out a jackass for making a "joke" that was only laughable in execution. Maybe one day soon someone will teach that kid what the word "sarcasm" means. Until that day, it was very cool of the Blues' social media team to defend the person that the team they represent couldn't. Even if someone as universally lovable as P.K. Subban didn't necessarily need it...
I can't sit here and tell you that a toilet paper sponsorship is the most glamorous luxury a soon to be professional athlete has been privy to. I'm sure that deep down Jake Butt is a little disappointed that the best he could do prior to the NFL Draft was get a company to present him a decade's worth of ass wipes. Free is free, but - in terms of excitement - he probably wouldn't have had to fake it as much if a truck pulled up with a bed full of sneakers or some other materialistic thing that isn't used to absorb shit. I don't need to undersell the value of a clean asshole, but I am sure that Jake Butt is looking forward to playing his way into an endorsement deal that isn't solely predicated on having a last name that makes even the most grown man giggle. That said, there will never, ever again come a time when Jake Butt is sitting on a toilet, frantically looking around, and thinking about how he would literally give anything for a roll of toilet paper. That post-poop, "you don't know what you got until it's gone" realization will no longer be a concern for the former Michigan tight end, and that peace of mind can't possibly be overstated. He would probably trade a 'Charmin' endorsement for something cooler like 'Nike', but there's no doubt that he would regret that transaction the first time his cheeks fell asleep on cold, unforgiving porcelain as he shamefully looked down at his socks or up at the shower. The best way to "Enjoy The Go" is to never have to worry about dreading it.  TheBigLead- Adrian Magee, a sophomore offensive lineman at LSU, was arrested on burglary charges on Wednesday. Magee is accused of breaking into an apartment and stealing an X-Box, six X-box games, $1,200 in cash, Gucci flip flops and a Bluetooth speaker. Magee was wearing LSU shorts adorned with his number at the time and realized he may have been caught on camera.
How did he realize this? The victim told him about the cameras when Magee returned to the apartment, stuck his head in the door and asked if there had been a burglary. The victim told police he is an LSU football fan and immediately recognized Magee, who was wearing LSU issued shorts with his number on them when he stopped by the apartment. The victim told Magee that he was glad he had security cameras in the apartment, and he planned to review the footage to “see who did it.” At that point Magee went and got some of the stolen items and returned them. Bail was set at $10,000. Magee has been suspended indefinitely by the team. ----- And just when you think you've covered all your bases, you get busted by the number you probably picked out for yourself that was screen printed on your team administered shorts. Tough break for our guy Adrian Magee here. When it comes to robbing an on-campus apartment, he really did everything right....other than change out of the personalized athletic gear he was given by the school. If he had just made sure he changed into some Nike brand shorts then he'd probably be strutting around Baton Rouge in some in comfy ass Gucci slippers with some spending money in his pockets as we speak. That's why my heart really breaks for the kid. To be diligent enough to return to the scene of the crime, poke your head in the door without knocking (again), and ask the tenant "damn bruh, you get robbed" before the tenant in question even offered up that information? That empathy alone would have been enough to eliminate him as a suspect if it weren't for those goddamn shorts. The look on his face when the victimized student told him he had a cameras installed be damned. Without LSU's stupid insistence that their football players constantly identify themselves as football players so that they are granted the spoils of playing football there would have been nothing incriminating about Adrian Magee's presence on that footage. Just doesn't seem fair, man. When will they stop numbering these student athletes like prisoners? When you really think about it, LSU set the prophecy....Adrian Magee just self fulfilled it. Sad! P.S. The mental image of a 6'5, 315 pound man with umbrella dreadlocks trying to un-steal an XBox just made my day. 
Remember when the Chicago Bulls fired Tom Thibodeau and proceeded to conduct a "worldwide search" for a brand new head coach...only to settle on the guy that everyone knew they were going to hire in the first place less than a week later? Remember when that guy happened to be a college coach from a nearby university whose ability to succeed on the next level was immediately called into question? Remember when that guy proved that skepticism legitimate by missing the playoffs in his first season, losing his veteran locker room multiple times throughout his second season, and using a playoff run to complain about a violation that has largely gone uncalled in professional basketball since well before the turn of the century? Now, I don't know enough about the X's and O's of the Bulls' offense or the inner working of their organization. I can, however, say - with conviction - that if your idea of postseason gamesmanship is to snitch on the star player of an opposing team for carrying the ball then college is unquestionably more your speed. You don't have to believe me, because - if this postgame mockery was any indication - then the media agrees as well. If the defense of a 3-time NBA Champion in the following clip is any indication then his own damn roster agrees. Fred Holberg is in way over his head, and there's not a soul in Chicago that intends on throwing the guy a life preserver.
Honestly, I can't even blame the poor bastard for getting up and charging out of the room after having his own complaint used against him, but I think we all would have reacted the same way if we had just experienced the realization that we were the least respected person in our entire profession. I wish Tim Floyd (former Iowa State coach who lasted 4 miserable seasons with the Bulls) would have stepped in before Fred Hoiberg stepped away from Iowa State, grabbed him by the cheeks, and recreated the following scene from 'Billy Madison'. By yelling about an infraction that went by the wayside in the early 80's he essentially showed up to high school in a Canadian Tuxedo and an unruly journalist just metaphorically dumped pudding on his head. 
What a joke. What a goddamn joke. Relative to the LeBron James-led teams of the last six years, this season's version of the Cavaliers isn't even good. In fact, if we are going by literally any defensive metric then they are actually pretty fucking bad. Yet still, I can't - in my heart of hearts - hate on their head coach's decision to throwing an organization-wide party while two teams battle it out for the unforgiving right to lose to them in five games next round. In almost every other situation in professional sports it would be considered a bad omen to be licking the bone clean and sipping beers while laughing at your upcoming opponent as they begin their preparations to face you. However - with the East proving to be even weaker than how frail everyone originally thought it was going to been in the first place - Tyronn Lue might be able to get away hosting BBQ's on his bench all the way up until the NBA Finals. LeBron James could show up with his jersey slathered in Sweet Baby Ray's, and he would still beat the Raptors or Bucks like a drumstick. All the pieces of chicken that he consumes during that watch party will be tied for second place on the list of the most important wings headed to the Eastern Conference Semifinals before he shits them out. It's nonsense. The Wizards, Celtics, and Raptors were all supposed to give Cleveland some sort of run for their money, and they are all still duking it out with mediocre-to-bad teams while Tyronn is collecting that cash to buy a new keg. I almost have to respect how little they look like they actually care, because history has shown that they really and truly have no reason not to treat the first three rounds of the NBA Playoffs like a pick-up game at a Block Party.  PuckDaddy- Anaheim Ducks coach Randy Carlyle decided to play some mind games with the Edmonton Oilers at media availability before Game 1 of their second-round series.
The Oilers had the worst faceoff percentage in the NHL at 47.0 last season while the Ducks had the league’s best at 54.7 percent – so Carlyle felt the need to point this out with cameras rolling. “I know they’re going to make faceoffs a priority. They’re going to be whining to the officials. I know that’s coming because that’s just the way playoffs are because everybody has their crosses to bear on what the opposition is doing,” Carlyle said. “Because we’ve been a strong faceoff team, I’m sure they’re going to complain to the officials about the way we’re taking faceoffs. That’s just the process that takes place.” Oilers coach Todd McLellan was asked about Carlyle’s comments and chuckled. “Already? Already? I’ve been whining about or faceoffs all year because we’re in 30th place. I don’t think that’s a brilliant comment by any means. When you’re in 30th you’re not happy where your team’s at,” McLellan said. “Sometimes these games are played and sometimes some of those comments are almost an admission of guilt at times because they’re very effective in the faceoff circle and they do do some things, so that’s always nice to distract.” -------- You know what, I am kind of torn on this move. On one hand, I like the idea of disarming your opponent of what would have been a surefire, go-to excuse given the drastic difference between the teams abilities at the dot. He can laugh now, but it's more probable than not that Todd McLellan would have complained about the less noticeable tricks of the puck-battling trade when his team's numbers inevitably deflated further. On the other hand, Randy Carlyle basically just outed his team as a bunch of devious draw takers. There's a reason you don't take the stand to declare your innocence before you've officially been charged, and it's because you would look guilty as all hell if you did. For that reason, I think I have to say that - while I love the intent of this message - I don't think it does jack for the quack attack. Let's be honest here. Whining about gamesmanship in the middle of a series that you're currently on the wrong side of comes off as sour grapes 100% of the time. Very rarely will it ever change the way an official calls a game, because most officials are smart enough to realize that it's just a ploy to guilt them into policing a fundamental part of the game in a way that benefits the team that's currently at odds. Coaches still do it on the off-chance it does work, but - in general - their whining is less efficient and more full of shit than the average person's use of toilet paper. Giving credence to that potential whining by denying it's legitimacy before it's even spoken into existence, however, is an actual reason for suspicion. Randy Carlyle is essentially the professional equivalent of the guy who blurts out "I'M NOT CHEATING ON YOU!" when his girlfriend asks why it took him so long to get home. Maybe she was going to accuse him and maybe she wasn't, but now she doesn't even have to because his conscience is obviously more unclean than his dick probably is. In reality, this back and forth is dumber than thinking it will actually change anything that takes place on the ice, but - as a general rule of thumb - it's better to shut the fuck up and not give your opponent an ever-so-slight benefit of the doubt without them even having to sound salty about not getting it. If I were a referee I would currently be more inclined to keep a watchful eye on the Ducks...after going to both benches and telling the grown men standing behind them to stop treating me like a gullible child of divorce. 
TheBigLead- Ilie Nastase, the former world no. 1 tennis player, is (was?) the captain of Romania’s Fed Cup (an international women’s tournament) team, which had a home match against Great Britain this weekend. At a press conference, one of Nastase’s players was asked about Serena William’s baby, and Natase interjected, “Let’s see what color it has. Chocolate with milk?”
Nastase was quickly removed from the weekend’s festivities in disgrace after making public sexual advances towards a female tennis coach, harassing a female reporter in the press room, making racist remarks about Serena Williams’ baby, and verbally assaulting players on Great Britain’s team during a match on Saturday. Those details reportedly included calling a reporter “stupid” and “ugly,” and calling two Great Britain players “fucking bitches.” ----- I want to make one thing clear. Though I am only going off of one report's worth of evidence, I think it's pretty safe to assume that Ilie Nastase is an insufferable, despicable excuse for a human being. The whole "chocolate with milk" thing wasn't the most racist thing I have heard uttered about an expecting interracial couple, but - ironically, given the deliciousness of chocolate milk - it was clearly in poor taste. I can't remember the last joke I heard that used diary products to attack the potential complexion of an unborn baby, but I would imagine that doing so is pretty universally frowned upon. Combine that with sexual and verbal assault and it becomes pretty easy to declare that he is definitively a dickhead off of one day's work. It's actually pretty impressive if you ask me. Maybe not the most honorable accomplishment, but the unhinged bastard went through three strikes faster than Tim Tebow during a Major League audition. Other than that, I honestly don't know what to say about the guy other then he is....exactly what I would expect out of a 70 year Romanian who looks like he should immediately be cast as Hans Gruber's grandfather in 'Die Hard Or Bruce Willis Can't Afford A New Vacation Home'. Is there any chance this bag of bones has made it through a single 24 hour stretch in the decade without polishing off a fifth of vodka? I'm not trying to make excuses for his villainous behavior, but I would be lying if I said he didn't appear to be embracing the role with open arms. There's something to be said for sticking with what you're good at, and - as a menacing, half dead son of a bitch - there is nothing he is better at then polluting Grand Slams with his public displays of discrimination. Maybe tennis wasn't looking for a bad guy, but at least now they can say they legitimately have one instead of shaming Nick Kyrgios for throwing fits, talking shit, and being just about the most entertaining person in the sport. He may have some attitude, but he's not the root cause behind social media posts like this.... Blue Jays' Chris Coghlan Literally Went Above And Beyond During Last Night's Play At The Plate4/26/2017 
There are routine plays, there are good plays, there are great plays, and there are plays that make so little sense in the moment that they remind you of scenes used for dramatic effect in sports parodies. Want to guess which category Chris Coghlan's 'Willie Mays Hayes' impersonation falls under? I mean, look no further for clarification on how unprecedented it is to go up-and-over in the actual Major League than the reaction of a catcher who has been in the Major Leagues no less than two centuries. Yadier Molina has seen it all - including a baseball magically attaching itself to his chest protector - and he turned into a deer in highlights as a utility player soared over his head to score during a play at the plate. All he had to was pull up slightly to send his opponent's flight pattern into complete disarray and he just froze up like a guy that was experiencing excessive turbulence. A full blown flying somersault over a grown man. Just no way you can possible expect that type of base running from anyone...never mind some random white guy whose had a mediocre career. The highlight does feel a bit cheapened by the absence of some face-to-face, "Mr. Peckerhead"-esque mockery of an egregiously cocky catcher, but that's just an occupational hazard of summoning the spirit of a fictional, braggadocios baseball movie legend (albeit in more impressive fashion)... 
This has to be a cold, hard dose of reality for Memphis Grizzlies fans, right? This eye-popping gratuity took place prior to Mike Conley putting the home team on his back and carrying them back to San Antonio knotted at two. Even so, seeing that Gregg Popovich was casually out doing the old, white version of making it rain after getting inspired by a little Marvin Gaye and chardonnay seems like a pretty solid indication of his mental state prior to Game 4. Maybe his sphincter ever-so-slightly clenched after an overtime loss, but a four figure, 600+% tip is a sign of a man who is so stress free that not even a series tying loss could totally bring him down. I don't mean to imply that Gregg Popovich's graciousness is directly correlated to his team's playoff performance, but I'll be damned if his stress level isn't. The man might be a supernatural leader but he's still a relatively regular person, and regular people are inherently more charitable when they are in a good mood. You can lie to yourself if you want, but you've never dared to reach into your back pocket for a homeless person when you are having a shitty day. If your job has you feeling anxious then you are more likely to open the calculator app then overestimate the math in your head. That's just human nature. If you aren't feeling your best then you are not going out of your way - financially or otherwise - to make sure someone else does. Gregg Popovich was undoubtedly locked in on the eve of last night's win, but his altruistic efforts are proof positive that he's been more concerned about the upcoming outcome of a hard fought playoff series. Even if the relaxing effect of a couple hearty reds did inevitably add an extra zero to his bill. 
It's not like anyone had any questions regarding Patrice Bergeron's (no pun intended) testicular fortitude. Even his prideful, injury suppressing peers probably envy how casually he makes professional hockey look while his insides look like an autopsy. For Christ's sake, the guy played throughout the entirety of the 2013 Stanley Cup Playoffs while his x-ray looked like that of someone who succeeded in committing suicide by jumping off a bridge. That doesn't mean we should shrug our shoulders as if we are unimpressed by his ability to play an entire season with a groin that surely felt like it endured a nut-crushing kick from an MMA fighter. It just means that shaking off an ungodly amount of distress without an obvious drop off in his performance isn't exactly breaking news. Do you know what is breaking news? The fact that the Boston Bruins don't give a fucccck about the unquestioned leader of their team. I don't fault Patrice Bergeron for biting the proverbial pillow and fighting through pelvic pain that must have had him thinking that one of those chestbursters from 'Alien Vs. Predator' was going rip through his reproductive region at any given moment. I blame the organization that prioritized wins in November over giving their most loyal foot soldier 10-12 regular season games off to rid himself of a condition that potentially makes taking a deep breathe a painstaking task. Unless this was some special case is which surgery and the healing process would have required more than 4-6 weeks then it's absolutely inexcusable that the franchise didn't demand that he see a doctor more steadfastly than over protective mother. Either the medical staff didn't know Patrice Bergeron was hurt (which is about as unlikely as me being able to tie my skates without crumbling to the ground from the agony of a torturous testicle), or they actively let a torturous testicle at least partially cripple their future captain for approximately half a calendar year. Maybe there were some exaggerative liberties taken in implying this was a season long ailment, and Patrice Bergeron wouldn't have been able to return for the postseason if he had his abdominal wall stitched back up. It wouldn't be the first time that NHL loyalists tried to make it sound like surviving 82 games plus playoffs is the equivalent of coming back from multiple military tours both physically and emotionally unscathed. However, if I'm taking this news at face value then there is egg on the face of the organization that devalued the health of a player that's never been anything other than selfless. Participating in contact-reliant professional athletics for seven months with a sports hernia is the mark of someone whose tough as nails, but an employer that encourages that emotionally influenced behavior is - objectively speaking - stupid as shit. Chris Paul And This Head Scratching Postgame Question Was Either The Best Or Worst Combination Ever4/26/2017 
The only reason I find that absurd, seemingly unaware question to more funny than foolish is because I'm about 90% sure it was intentional. Like, I wouldn't be remotely surprised if you found a Gordon Hayward shirtsey when peeling back the lapels on that reporter's mundanely colored sports coat, because that was too dumbfounding not be an act of trolling. Asking Christopher fucking Paul, of allllll people, if he expected to win any game - never mind one that could potentially signal the end of his season and ultimately demolish the current construction of his entire franchise? That's such a drastic miscalculation that it couldn't have come from someone that's covered basketball for more than one Rivers' family officiating feud...unless that person were to have a maniacal sense of humor. Judging by CP3's apparent familiarity with his interviewer's longevity in the profession, I absolutely have to assume that this dude has been in the game long enough to know exactly what he was doing. Point blankly asking arguably the most angsty, competitive player in basketball if he was confident about winning immediately after he almost willed his team to victory for the second time in a week can be played off as journalistic incompetence. Doubling down by urging him to elaborate while the entire room had already illuminated the sheer stupidity of the question with their laughter, however, was nothing short of journalistic condescension. Either that guy is rooting for the Utah Jazz, or he's simply rooting for bad things to happen to the people he reports on in hopes that he subsequently gets the opportunity to expose their frustrations. Make no mistake, nothing will do that faster than lazy, mind numbing Q&A's with people that aren't about the bullshit at the moment. It may have come after a devastating defeat, but - for the the casual viewer - this was another entertaining ending to an episode of 'The Clip Show'. |
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