 CBSSports- Virginia Tech co-defensive coordinator Galen Scott resigned from his position Friday after admitting that he used recruiting trips to pursue an extramarital affair. Scott, who has been at Virginia Tech the last two seasons, was just promoted to co-defensive coordinator this offseason. "I want to thank Coach [Justin] Fuente for the opportunity to serve on his staff both here at Virginia Tech and at Memphis," Scott said in a release via the school. "After much reflection and conversation, I felt now was the time to step away from football and focus on my family." Scott had recently come under fire following a report from the Richmond Times Dispatch. The paper obtained an email sent to administrators at Virginia Tech revealing Scott had used recruiting trips to maintain a romantic relationship -- one Scott admitted to in a statement to the Roanoke Times. "I made a mistake, and I have to take responsibility for that," Scott said. "I did some things that I want to apologize to my wife for and my family for, and I need to make sure I make that right by just being around for them and being the best father and person I can be." --------- That followed alllllllll of this...        I'll tell you what, it takes a complete surrendering of any and all personal pride to jump on a long defunct twitter account that's devoted to the teenage son of one of the lead members of a legendary 80's rap group to do what the man behind @diggy1973 did. Anonymous or not, there's just very little shame in sitting down at a computer and tweeting about how your wife stepped out on you with a football coach to a range of people that included the Buffalo Bills, Tyrod Taylor, Tremaine Edmunds, Terrell Edmunds, Brandon Flowers, DeAngelo Hall, the NFL Network, Virginia Tech, their President, its football program and almost all of their coaching staff, its basketball program, a bunch of media outlets, Adam Schefter, and - my personal favorite - an Adam Schefter parody account. Repeatedly describing, in a fair amount of detail, the affair that his wife partook in outside of their marriage is the work of someone who has abandoned his self-respect. That being said, it's also the work of someone who will stop at nothing to get revenge. For what that man lacks in dignity, he makes up in devotion. He made a vow with himself to get vengeance, and by forcing the resignation of a football coach who had just been promoted to Co-Defensive Coordinator of a Power 5 school with tweet storm for the ages, he did just that. Let's be honest, it was going to take something a lot more embarrassing than some run-of-the-mill, mid-recruiting infidelity from one of their coaches for Virginia Tech to can a promising member of their staff. I'd say a barrage of public posts directed at almost every notable athletic alum fits that description. This poor cucked soul certainly didn't win his wife back with psychotic behavior that probably explains why she was sleeping around in the first place, but he did get his version of justice by castrating the career of the man who was plowing her. Considering everything he lost, it was a small victory but a victory nonetheless... 
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FTW- Patricia Norton, the founder and CEO of the Florida Exotic Bird Sanctuary, where Zsa Zsa — an 8-year-old Catalina Macaw — calls home, saw all the Internet hate and was irate.
“To have these people say, ‘Well we thought it would fly through the stadium.’ Unbelievable that somebody would think I would put my bird at risk,” she told For The Win. “My biggest thing I have to say: How on Earth could anyone think I could have taught her the name of the pick in 30 seconds?” Apparently, that turned into people expecting Zsa Zsa to verbally deliver the pick. But Norton — who told us last week that she had been training the bird for over a month to do something cool — said Zsa Zsa was trained to hand the card with her foot to her handler Stephanie, which she did. Then, she was trained to say “Go Bucs!” when Stephanie raised her arms. But the bird might have been a little overwhelmed by all the pirates around her, or she said it and was drowned out by all the hubbub after the pick was announced. ------- Well, excuuuuuuuuse us for thinking that an exotic bird whose most enticing trait is it's ability to speak was actually going to talk when, after much ado about apparently nothing, announcing a draft pick for an NFL franchise. God forbid we assume that the animal was actually going to earn its airtime...
Now that I have put a little bit of thought into the execution of the gimmicky guest spot, I suppose it was unfair for us to expect a bird to pronounce an NFL prospect's name after 30 seconds of preparation. Unfortunately, it's simply not as unfair as misleading the general public by making them think you've got a parrot that's worthy of primetime. We might have been a little ignorant for thinking Zsa Zsa was going to rock the mic, but I blame its hype woman for writing a check that its multi-colored ass couldn't cash. After all, it's not our fault that the talent pissed its pretty little feathers when its name got called. Props don't need publicity, so Patricia Norton welcomed the expectations when she started celebritizing something that was set to sit motionless on her shoulder. From here on out, I call that bird 'B. Parrot' because she got her one shot, one opportunity and somehow let it slip through her talons. While I appreciate how true-to-form it is to oversell and under-deliver to a "sleeper team" that's napped through the last four seasons, that's how you get booed off stage. Whether it was your idea to take it or you were coerced into doing so by an owner that overrated your ability to perform for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. 
I'm not going to lie, I'm not sure I like this path we are headed down as a society. Not to draw the line at a personal trainer making public note of an NBA player's impressive work ethic, but can we put the kibosh on the whole Kanye-esque sharing of private text messages thing before it inevitably gets out of hand? I mean, other than clientele by the consultant of an athlete that - judging by both the misspelling of his name and the lack of previous communication - is something less than said athlete's BFF, what's to be gained from posting that message? I guess you could argue the answer to that question is respect for Victor Oladipo. However, I'm not sure that we needed to be shown that the player who went from the owner of an anchor-like contract and the punchline of a joke-worthy trade to a both an undeniable star and an invaluable piece of a young team in a few month's time is diligent in his drive to improve. I don't know, considering that this was bound to go viral and stood to benefit the person who posted it more than the person who texted it, seems like a self-serving move that, at the very least, is a bit of a humble brag. As far as enhancing your brand by promoting how quick highly accomplished people are to contact you in times of distress is concerned, this is definitely a harmless case of it. Still, you can't tell me that "you young athletes take notes..." couldn't have just as easily been followed by "...I can do wonders for your career!". 
(Photo: RUBEN R. RAMIREZ/EL PASO TIMES)
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My eye for NFL talent is even less keen than the football gurus that put out mock drafts that were varying levels of wildly off base. Therefore, I theoretically can't tell you that a 5'7" running back selected in the late rounds out of a small school in a relatively unheralded conference has what it takes to make his mark at the next level. In the Saints' execution of their 6th round selection of a small, shifty playmaker that broke tackles at a ungodly rate and has proven proficient in both the running and passing game, however, I can tell you that they think they just found their newest toy. Fans typically flock to exciting offensive players, especially those that have a feel-good story and underdog mentality attached to them, but I don't even think it's the lionization of long shots that has me unable to fathom a scenario in which Sean Payton doesn't find a role for Boston Scott in his offense. It's totally unfair to compare a undervalued draft darling to a 'Hall of Fame' hopeful, but it's also totally impossible to squint at the highlights above and not see Darren Sproles scurrying across your screen. It just is. Obviously there's a lot that can happen between now and final cuts, but it's weird to think that a 6th round pick would have to beat the odds to get cut from a team whose offensive mastermind salivates at his skill set. With Mark Ingram and Alvin Kamara shattering records as a tandem, the Saints didn't need backfield help. That's why Sean Payton's inability to dismiss the type of talent that he prides himself on getting the absolute most out of is proof that they probably just got a guy that could provide some magic in spelling them. The Chargers Had A Fan Announce A Late Round Pick, And He Refused To Address Them By Their New City4/30/2018 
Only the Chargers. This could only happen to the Chargers and I don't just say that because they are the NFL franchise that most recently relocated, but rather because they are only team whose ownership could inspire this type of grudge holding. The initial outcry of spurned fanbases typically dies down by the time a franchise's first season in a new city has come and gone, and you don't believe me then try to think back to the last time you were reminded that the Rams called St. Louis home for two decades. This laughable incident is nothing if not fitting. The piss poor vetting process that the Chargers used to select their special guest representative is probably just as thorough as the research that Dean Spanos put in to gauging Los Angeles' interest in gaining a second NFL team in as many years. The fact that said representative just so happened to hate everything about the move is perfectly symbolic of how well that move has been received. A full year later, and football fans traveling from sunny Southern California to Dallas, Texas for the NFL draft are more likely to be pissed off holdovers that refuse to accept the truth than excited newcomers aboard the bandwagon. I'm sure the brashness of that Chargers' enthusiast was largely motivated by the belief that San Diego will eventually get their Bolts back, and - as silly as that seems - I can't even blame him for considering that a distinct possibility. After all, when's the last time a professional sports team transferred to a major market and couldn't immediately drum up enough support to drown out the cries of those calling it a huge mistake? The wound is somehow still somewhat fresh to their fanbase, and that's because the Chargers are profusely bleeding profit with every seat left empty in a half-size soccer stadium. 
Well, I guess the good news is that this isn't really news at all. Seeing as I just want to put my feet up and silently enjoy the rest of the weekend, it would truly be awful if I had to go about the same old song and dance in explaining how Taylor Hall, at times singlehandedly, altered the weather forecast during the time of year in which dreariness had come to be expected by those associated with the Devils. Honestly, the last thing I wanted to do is remind everyone that it was his dominance that helped ease the indoctrination of two of NHL's three youngest players into first line roles for a competitive team, so thank god this nomination was basically written in the consistency with which he was one of the 'Three Stars'. I think every hockey fan already knows how impressive a 26-game point streak is, so prattling on and on about how it put Taylor Hall in both exclusive and historic company would have really been overkill. Could you even imagine how annoying it would have been of me to go back to the game logs to confirm that his 9-game point streak, that came pretty damn close to the heels of the previous one, featured multiple game-winning goals and almost directly coincided with the Devils clinching a playoff spot for the first time in six years? Man, I'd hate myself for turning into that much of a fanboy, so I'm breathing quite the sigh of relief that I don't have to point out that if there were a hypothetical person in the lineup that made up the difference between Taylor Hall's point total and that of his next closest teammate then that person would be the leading scorer on any Devils' line other that wasn't Number 9's. An individual season that is arguably the best ever by a member of a storied franchise with three championships and a fistful of Finals appearances under its belt speaks for itself, and therefore I don't have to pick apart the definition of "value" on its behalf... I just wanted to for the fuck of it. In all seriousness, I'm not sure Taylor Hall will win MVP. With all due respect to Anze Kopitar, I imagine it'll basically come down to the flip of a coin between the Devils' Hart-and-soul and Nathan MacKinnon, and - while the failing of tails would leave me disappointed - cooler heads say both are more than deserving. That said, the fact that Taylor Hall's status as a finalist was all-but-finalized well before the season finale tells you everything you need to know about how valuable he was to a team that rode his coattails a lot more often than he'd ever admit. During a year in which there were more people in the Hart Trophy conversation than ever before, a New Jersey Devils' forward made it so that he absolutely could not be excluded. The only surprising part about that is that it somehow stopped being surprising awhile ago. 
Obviously not to the extent of lightly tearing up or almost speechlessly dancing around in circles in support of a close personal friend, but I too couldn't help but feel like I have found myself slightly invested in the success of Lamar Jackson when I threw in a fist pump as his name got called. I suppose it's really no skin off my ass if his doubters are eventually proven right, but I'd love nothing more than to a see the disproportional pre-draft dissection of a guy who, at the very least, earned the right to prove himself as a pro quarterback be proven dead wrong. Stereotypes, generalizations, and flat out assumptions will unfortunately always guide a process that's a complete crap shoot. Still, having the absurdity of those prejudices highlighted by someone that was a Heisman-winning human highlight reel would hopefully go a long way in...well...at the very least...getting Bill Polian's crusty, senile ass put in a sound-proof old folks home before he tries to unjustly drag anymore careers before they even start. Here's to hoping Lamar Jackson does big things, if only so we don't have to listen to old white dudes sit around and say someone who is 6'3, 215 was too small because they are too lazy to think of any legitimate critiques.
Okay, so I have a couple questions. First and foremost, what kind of poop we talking? This seems a little vague for my liking. I suppose eating any form of excrement is enough of a humiliating and humbling experience that it really shouldn't matter, but...at the same time...I can't help but feel like it does. So, what's on the menu? Dog shit? Horse dung? Co-host crap? I think serving him a healthy dose of Baker Mayfield's post-digestion pre-draft dining seems super fitting, but it's not exactly my bet to enforce. Therefore, as long as he's not copping out by swallowing a deer pellet whole or something, I give 'Hammer Nation' credit for upholding his end of a deal so stupid that even the Browns wouldn't offer it. Secondly, how long has this guy been working in Cleveland? If it's any longer than a year then we might be dealing with a fecal fetishist, because it can't possibly take that long to realize that the Cleveland Browns are capable of absolutely anything. We're talking about a franchise whose mid-season trade for a quarterback got nixed because they didn't turn their paperwork in on time. An organization that had months to make a decision on who they were going to select with two of the first four picks...that took someone who was universally considered a lesser talent on a complete whim...
The NFL draft as a whole is unpredictable and, as a result, almost every single mock draft would make nothing more than great toilet paper if it were printed on two-ply. Calling your shot when the Browns are on the clock, at the top of a draft that's anything but a consensus, well...that's like going for a 3-mile hike immediately after gorging on Taco Bell... No matter how messy, you deserve that shit. 
Okay, I admit it. I was a little hard on the profession of draft analysis in the headline. Declaratively prognosticating how each and every unfinished product will project at the next level is, in fact, a rather difficult endeavor. Unfortunately, when you're as wrong as quickly as this random collection of individuals were, the only logical thing to do is compare your "highly educated" opinion to the instinctive grunt of a primate. Marshon Lattimore had basically already lapped the field for Defensive Rookie Of The Year by approximately Week 7, and - as if that weren't a hard enough kick to the dick of the doubters - he didn't even play in Week 3. The kid was almost immediately an absolute beast at a position that typically requires the most unforgiving of transition periods. He inarguably completely transformed a secondary that was only capable of covering the opposition's point spread prior to his arrival. Other than an unfortunate history of injuries, I have absolutely no idea what these people saw when making the leap to calling him a "bust", but they fell about 40 yards short of making any sense whatsoever. Just for the sake of statistically analyzing their ineptitude, that's about three more yards than Marshon Lattimore allowed per game during a rookie season in which he let up all of zero touchdowns. Suffice to say, he earned the right to celebrate the first anniversary of his promising NFL career by throwing a little shade the way of the "bright minds" whose bulbs clearly need changing after inevitably coming up empty on yet another mock draft. 
Here's what I am going to need you to do. Take those notes that you've used to carefully outline Taylor Hall's argument for the Hart Trophy, and push them to the side of your desk. Don't throw them out because you're probably going to need them pretty soon, but just remove them from your line of vision. Now take a deep sigh of relief, seeing as it has to feel pretty damn good not having to refer to them for the umpteenth time in a circular, never-ending internet argument that dissects the word "value" as if were some foreign concept that, much like Player Safety, somehow evaded the entire hockey community for decades. You see, for the first time in a long time, the qualifiers and caveats aren't necessary. Never mind the team specific point differentials and short-lived playoff berths that could be used as signs of relative worth. If only for this discussion, even the irrefutable advanced analytics aren't worth the Excel program that was used to tediously type them out. We're talking the three most outstanding players in the NHL, as voted on by players in the NHL, and - alongside Connor McDavid and Nathan McKinnon - Taylor Hall is officially one of them. Not Nikita Kucherov. Not Claude Giroux. Not Evgeni Malkin. Not Anze Kopitar. Taylor Hall, and if you've got a bone to pick with his inclusion then I sure as shit hope you've got a signed NHL contract lying around, or else your discretion in this discussion means about as much as your failed hockey career. Those paid to put him on his ass, as opposed to those paid to sit on theirs, determined that Taylor Hall was, at the very least, the player third most worthy of both their attention and respect. That not only speaks volumes about his sky-high standing throughout the league, but also the consistency with which he displayed his dominance. Now, it would be crazy to assume that athletes that are far more focused on their own season than those of their opposition are the most educated of voters, but - despite being an unquantifiable stat - earning an award-worthy appreciation from your peers in the span of one standout season is quite the accomplishment. Even if he doesn't end up taking any of the accolades he's up for home, Taylor Hall deserves each and every acknowledgement of a season that apparently couldn't even be ignored by those that it came at the expense of. For Better Or Worse, The Saints Did What They Had To Do To Get Their Guy In Marcus Davenport4/27/2018 
You can call Sean Payton a lot of derogatory things, as I'm sure plenty of opposing players, coaches, and fans have done just that, but one thing he's not is a liar. He was as unwavering as he's ever been, which is saying something, in declaring the positions the Saints"must" fill prior to the season, and by going all-in on Marcus Davenport he officially checked the third of three boxes. Obviously I don't think a front office that can hang their hat on last's year historical rookie class in terms of its talent evaluation decided to empty the organizational wallet for just any pass rusher, but after making the absolute most of what's fallen in their lap over the last few years, this was a clear-cut example of how you should go about drafting for need. They identified the player, as opposed to merely his position, that they wanted and they did what they had to do to bring him aboard. The price tag attached to doing so was at a premium, but so was the size, speed, and skill set of a kid whose potential - if moderately realized - could make an up-and-coming defense dangerous. With defensive end being only second to quarterback in terms of the scarcity of talent, sometimes you have to empty your proverbial pocket to push the pocket. Even so, it's a bold move rather than a panic move, as evidenced by the fact that it has been in the works for weeks, and that only makes me feel that much more confident in the people that made it...
Now look, there was a time, not all that long ago actually, in which New Orleanians would have needed a minute to decide whether to bag their heads in paper or plastic if they found out their team went shopping for a defensive player and potentially overpaid for a raw prospect from a small school in the top half of the first round. Fortunately, that time is not now. Last year's turnaround serves as quite the resume for a recently revamped coaching staff that got the absolute most out of its talent in the front seven. There's no longer reason to believe that expecting the Saints to develop defensive players is as fruitless an endeavor as betting against the sun rising. The franchise finally has the internal tools to take on a project and mold the rough edges of someone who is otherwise the physical prototype of a play-killing pass rusher...
As shocking as it may be, I didn't consider UTSA football to be appointment television on Saturday afternoons this past fall. Therefore, my familiarity with Marcus Davenport is limited to videos that are meant to highlight his best attributes. I just have a tough time hating on the selection of a player whose biggest concern is that his dominance made his competition look so damn stupid that you couldn't help but notice how inferior it was. There will no doubt be an adjustment period when he starts consistently going up against NFL tackles. I'm sure his technique could use some tweaking and his moves could use some modifying. He's not going to flat out bully the types of behemoths he'll see at the next level, so a sure thing he is most definitely not. That said, he'll probably start off by subbing in for Alex Okafor on the opposite side of a double-team magnet in Cam Jordan and being used predominantly in situations where the primary goal is to win a one-on-one matchup and get after the quarterback. If the tape - either video or measurables - is any indication, someone whose path compares to that of Demarcus Ware and whose player profile compares to that Jadeveon Clowney can strong arm his way through those struggles. All the pieces are in the package, they just need to be assembled. Just like any worthwhile gift from Santa, he might take some time to put it all together, but considering the demand that a newly trusted staff put on adding him to their cart regardless of cost, he should keep teams up at night if he does. This is an undeniable sign that the organization appears as confident as ever that they won't be picking low next year, and another late first is a fair price to pay if it ultimately fills the hole long left by Junior Galette and turns their defensive line into a unit that's capable of wreaking havoc instead of reeking so bad that the secondary has to mask it. 
As most things tend to do, this makes a whole lot of sense in retrospect. The agonizing grimaces and post-shift slumping that were a staple of his on-screen presence seemingly every time he came back to the bench. The hesitancy to shoot that, while becoming less and less of an issue throughout an otherwise unbelievable year, was definitely one of the few noticeable flaws in his game. The lack of power on a snap shot that somehow had the accuracy to get him to 20 goals in his first NHL season despite not being intimidating enough scare a fly off the crossbar. Now, I'm sure a lot of those observations can also be attributed to the nerves that might be felt by a post-pubescent boy playing in a grown man's league while having to work harder to limit the inherent disadvantage that is being built like a middle school distance runner. Still, dealing with a chronic injury to the wrist of a shooting arm that would have needed a whole lot more than a high-protein, spinach-heavy diet to rival Popeye's regardless certainly couldn't have helped. All jokes aside, the fact that throughout his first full season - of which he was the only Devil to play in every single game - not once did anyone consider that Nico Hischier was banged up is a testament to him having a hockey IQ that's wise beyond its years, a skill set that impacts the game in a variety of ways, and a tenacity that never had him shying away from the tough areas of the ice. As if I needed any other reason to be optimistic about the bright future of a kid that swimmingly assumed the role of number one center for an eventual playoff team, the mere thought that we have yet to see at him at full strength when that's sure to be added to over the summer has me ready to put myself to sleep until October. Nico Hischier easily surpassed expectations and he did so while likely having to use his off-hand to masturbate. I don't know that that last part is relevant but it's definitely not a claim that can be made by members of a fanbase that largely found themselves aroused for the first time in years because of the first part. 
First and foremost, assuming this backtracking is legit and isn't out of love for someone whose financial standing is more likely to behoove her if he doesn't spend the next decade behind bars, I'm glad that it's starting to sound like Reuben Foster isn't guilty of brutally beating the crap out of anyone other than an opposing running backs. The original report of 8-10 punches thrown by the most physically menacing of men to the side of the head of a young woman is some psycho shit, so it all being made up - while incredibly damaging to a young man's reputation regardless - is definitely good news relative to the alternative. Given the book on him coming out Alabama, I'm probably not the only one, but I definitely owe the kid an apology for assuming the worst as opposed to hoping for best. So, I guess my only question is, where do things go from here? Not to rub salt in the wounds she obtained coming out on the ass end of a girl fight, but shouldn't there be some sort of legal action taken against Reuben Foster's accuser? Considering she kinda, sorta put the entirety of his playing career in jeopardy, as well as forever tarnished his already questionable character, I can't help but feel like admittedly falsifying a report of something as serious as domestic abuse should carry some sort of consequences. After all, her decision to go back on her word isn't necessarily out of the kindness of her heart. Providing visual evidence of his innocence is really just an admittance that she knew there was visual evidence out there of her guilt. The retrospective watching of one's own ass, after sticking someone else's to the fire, doesn't exactly lead me to believe we're dealing with a 28 year old that's coming clean on a mistake made in the throes of passion. I'm not a legal expert, but can't we swing the blatant use of the justice system to manipulate an innocent party into a 30-60 day sentence? If not because the presumed level of crazy needs caging then because setting a strong precedent is the quickest way to cut down on bullshit allegations that could change people's lives forever. The Saints Are Reportedly Prepared To Trade Way Up, Which Seems Only As Possible As It Is Unlikely4/26/2018 
I have no doubts that the Saints have made calls to every team that's up, down, and around them in the draft order, nor do I have any doubt that they'll make the sacrifices that are within reason to get the player they want in the first round. Sean Payton has certainly never been shy about throwing caution to the trade winds and, historically speaking, he definitely prefers to make more of a splash than to tread patiently in the waters. That being said, I do have my doubts about the significance of this potential jump. In fact, I think it would take a "big leap" to even consider what the Saints might have planned to be a "big leap", because that wording should be reserved for top ten picks and - after doing a quick and relatively ignorant cost-benefit analysis - I've determined that not one player in this draft is both a realistic get and worthy of their future. Now, I might be inclined to change my tune if Jeff Ireland, who has earned earned enough benefit of the doubt after last year's draft to select me at 27th overall, sees a successor at quarterback, but if that's the case then Sean Payton should cover every Saints' fans co-pay for the second-hand smoke we've had blown up our ass...
For the first time in a long-time, the organization has the faith of its faithful when it comes to personnel decisions so I'm definitely more inclined to support whatever they may do. I just have a hard time believing that will include trading next year's first round pick plus whatever else it would take to leverage a blue chip prospect out of a team that's theoretically has far more of a need for one. 
I know I should just shrug my shoulders, tip my cap, and acquiesce to the idea that the NBA truly is a place Where Amazing Happens. I know I should. Unfortunately, the player responsible for this particular brand of amazing is inexcusably on the brink of an early summer, and that alone leaves me far more frustrated than awe-inspired. To be clear, I'm aware that the foul trouble of the Defensive Player Of The Year cracked open the door for one of the most out-of-nowhere comebacks you'll ever see in sports. Still, Rudy Gobert would have to be the Defensive Player Of The Bicentennial for his absence alone to fully explain the contrast of what we saw from the second half of the third quarter on to the entirety of the three and half games prior. Russell Westbrook might be the player whose game is made most bi-polar by an inconsistent jumper, so he's liable to look like someone who broke out of the lab he was invented in to spite his creators with his stat line when his shot is falling, but it's absolutely mind-numbing to see him made aggravatingly insecure by Ricky Rubio when it's not. It couldn't be more readily apparent that we expected far too much when the Thunder brought Paul George and Carmelo Anthony on board, but our obsession with star power isn't entirely responsible for the collective "wtf?" that got sent the former's way when Joe Ingles was kangaroo kicking his ass when it mattered in Game 4. Assuming Hoodie Melo wasn't magically made more powerful by his comforting air of mystery, it's on both him and the Thunder that he looks more out of sorts than his love life. The Batman and Robin routine that was put on the reigning MVP and the man that picked a bad time to invite mockery by giving himself a self-made nickname was unbelievably awesome, but it only served as a reminder that Bruce Vain and 'Day-off P' may have put them in a hole they are statistically unlikely to climb out of. We knew this is what these two were capable of, so it's honestly annoying that the expiration date of their excellence might come prior to the second round. Of course, a lot of credit has to go to an opponent that's been exceptional on their own end of the floor while leaning heavily on the offensive contributions of an outstanding rookie, but - if the latter half of last night was any indication - the Oklahoma City Thunder's failures have basically set the scene for the rebirth of the Jazz. 
It's a credit to the level of consistency that we've seen throughout his career, but sometimes we forget that the bar has been raised so high for/by LeBron James that an athletic specimen that's somehow still peaking as a performer during his 15th season has a hard time reaching it. Realistically, it shouldn't have taken a game-saving chase-down block followed by a game-winning buzzer beater three for me to shift my focus from how handicapable the rest of the Cavaliers are to how super human LeBron James is. Besides having a 41/10/8 stat line prior to that sequence of events, he had already gone above and beyond in single-handedly keeping the series respectable. Not to beat a dead horse, but that's basically what the Indiana Pacers have been doing as LeBron has shouldered its rotting carcass to within a game of the second round. Therefore, there is no reason that I shouldn't have been in complete awe of his efforts before they sent the home crowd into hysterics. I guess the "problem" is that King James has turned in so many majestic performances that they've become too easy to take for granted. It's breathtaking moments like last night, however, where you simply have to put aside the fact that sometimes both his personality and his theatrics leave a hell of a lot to be desired and appreciate what you're witnessing, which is greatness personified. Those are the type of plays you're going to tell your grandkids about, assuming that the ageless wonder isn't still producing them two generations from now. To varying levels of excitement, we were all Myles Turner as a ball that appeared magnetized to the bottom of the net inevitably made it's way there, for "oh my god" was really the only proper response one should have to watching the culmination of an unstoppable level of dominance...
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BOO! BOO THAT MAN! Honestly, there's not enough tomatoes in the world for that absolute hatchet job of a zinger that I'm assuming was aimed at the degeneracy of Philadelphia as a whole. I think you'd have to reach pretty far to consider that failed attempt at humor to be race-based, seeing as there are plenty of white basketball fans, but anytime a bad joke can be misinterpreted as a racist one the person telling it should probably make note to steer clear of comedy. I mean, if the goal was laughter, then he would have been better off going the offensive route. After all, at least some people find that to be funny, where as not a giggle was uttered following an ambiguous punchline. Let me be the last person to defend a city that's days removed from launching full beers on the ice during a professional hockey game. Philly has never been hesitant to earn their stereotypes, and - as a result - they invite wisecracks about their collective character. That said, you better have Kevin Hart's South Florida-based brother penning your one-liners if you're planning on coming out the other side of besmirching the local legend responsible for the SuperBowl-winning soundtrack and his passionate following unscathed. Clearly this journalist turned jester didn't, or he wouldn't have had to nail the delete button about 15 minutes, and a 100 screenshots, too late...
TerezOwens- This footage of Colts Hall of Famer Marvin Harrison comes to us via our tip box. “I was menaced and threatened by Mr Harrison, who is my landlord. I have 8 minutes of clear video and would like to monetize it. I retain the rights to the video until the release is finalized. I have a sample of the quality and if you are interested, please contact me ASAP. Thank you for your time and consideration.” I’m not sure what to think, judge for yourself below with this footage…this is just a sample as I’m only playing 1 of the 8 minutes…this guy is selling the footage to pay Marvin I assume. -TO
------ I suppose we should still call this an "alleged" attack, seeing as the dude lugging a Louisville Slugger around a city street like he's either hoping to recreate a scene out of Grand Theft Auto or stumble upon The Sandlot wasn't flashing an ID or wearing a name tag. Still, that looked a hell of a lot like the person who serves as the preeminent example that, no matter how many times we watch them play, we probably shouldn't judge an athlete as a person by his on-field attitude, or lack thereof. I guess it's due to the calmness and consistency he displayed in quietly going about his business during an All-World playing career, but there's probably some people that, to this day, have no idea why I'm not surprised that Marvin Harrison might have adopted an in-your-face style of property management from The Sopranos. To those people, I offer the following Wikipedia entry, and - well - you might want to sit down when you read it... 
Yeah, doesn't seem so out-of-character for someone you might have still thought to be a mild-mannered introvert anymore, now does it? So, next time you deem a player an asshole because he was caught on camera laughing after a mistake, or decide that you wouldn't mind marrying your daughter off to the strong silent type because he presents himself as a good teammate, maybe just flash back to the curious case(s) of Marvin Harrison. Let him be your reminder that, for better or worse, you could watch someone take Major League cuts for a decade and have no idea whether they'd be the type to help your grandmother across the street or the type to take your kneecap as collateral for an overdue rent payment. Sidenote: I'm not sure I'd run to the well too much, but - assuming you're okay risking your long-term ability to walk - instigating your famously violent landlord into kicking your ass and selling the clip online is a pretty clever way to get him paid. 
— kyle (@69Nutellalite) April 24, 2018
— Colorado Rockies (@Rockies) April 24, 2018
Without having any familiarity with Jenny Cavnar, her knowledge of baseball, or her ability to call a game, I feel pretty comfortable saying the following... Female broadcasters can, on occasion, be unbearably terrible at engaging an audience, accurately portraying what they see, and relaying information in a manner that's easy to digest. That's the bad news. The good news, however, is that male broadcasters can, on occasion, be equally as bad at all those things, and - considering the gender breakdown of their profession - their fuck up's come with far more frequency! How about that, equality at the expense of our eardrums! I know this may be hard to believe, but I wasn't tuned in and hanging on every word during a Colorado Rockies game on a Monday night in mid-April. Therefore, I have absolutely no idea how well it was called. On the other hand, I do have an idea of how intolerant you have to be to treat a couple potentially nervous and definitely harmless mistakes by a first-time MLB announcer as an indictment of both her qualifications and her entire gender. It was right around the same time that Jenny Cavnar was mixing up shortstop and second base that long-time NBA analyst Reggie Miller was attributing the court vision of the point guard for the Utah Jazz to "Marco Rubio". Despite the latter taking place during a game whose importance was exponentially greater than that of Spring baseball, it was merely met with laughs as it was universally considered an honest mistake. Perhaps all the moronic trolls that demand the booth remain a boys' club should consider offering that same benefit of the doubt to a woman that I presume wasn't perfect during her professional debut. That, of course, is a pipe dream considering the hostile state of the internet, but credit to the Colorado Rockies' social media team for combating the antiquated concept of sports as a sausage fest against people that really didn't deserve the time of day. 
And there you have it, a stark reminder that loyalty in sports, be they college or professional, is such an impossibly optimal endeavor that money can't even buy it. Don't get me wrong, it sure can rent it, seeing as Troy Walters' attachment to UCF's unofficial National Championship claim was so emotional that he actually attached a goddamn emoji to it when that title-worthy bonus check was hitting his bank account...
Look, I love that a mid-major is going to such absurd lengths in glorifying a flawless season that featured more impressive wins than your average, out-of-nowhere upstart, but I'd be lying if I said the seemingly never-ending celebration of an unsanctioned accomplishment wasn't getting a wee bit old. The truth is, as much as I enjoy the NCAA's priorities being questioned, this whole situation is bordering on ridiculous at this point. That said, I would be right in the middle of each and every parade if I had anything to do with what made them all possible. Therefore, the fact that the man who orchestrated an undefeated offense that electrified a fanbase that was still reeling from drinking their way through a thoroughly defeated season decided to rain on it is a sign of just how tightly college coaches tow the company line. Troy Walters went from the future bearer of a 'National Champions' ring (his words) to the staunch bearer of the NCAA's truth, and all that changed was the prestige of his place of employment by way of an induction into the Power 5. Not really sure that serves as bulletproof rationale for failing to accept his bling without obnoxiously, with a capital O, dropping a "well, actually..." on its significance on a public platform. I don't mean to make this awkward, but someone needs to tell Troy Walters that his resentment is showing. He probably should feel some type of way about not being the successor to Scott Foster after beating a top ten team in the nation with the only opportunity he was granted to fill that role, but why take out his butt hurt on twitter followers that would have been forever grateful for his contributions? It's not like the people that felt scorned by that post were the ones that decided to go in another direction during the hiring process. All in all, it doesn't really matter that he ruined the fun by biting the hand that fed him, because he's already on quite the full stomach, but sooner or later there will be Huskers' fans calling for his job as the offensive coordinator as a middling Big Ten team. Then, and apparently only then, will he realize that he probably should have continued embracing the self-proclamation of a "National Championship", even if it was fictitious in nature. |
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