It's ironic that the joke of questionable taste involves an unexpected wall, because some might say the German editors that green lit political prodding in their sports-based front page really walked face first into that one. Taking a shutout loss to a massive underdog like Mexico must have felt like taking a stack of bricks to the face, and who better to absorb that blow than the country whose players apparently took their directive on shameless overconfidence from one of their own publications. I mean, never mind tempting fate, Germany basically tickled Karma's taint by invoking an international controversy for laughs as if the skeletons in their closet are all smiles. The jokes that could have been levied in response to a wall reference that was more conventional than clever were plentiful, but none of them would have been as funny as the unexpected win that could best be encapsulated by the headline "Sorry Germany, today we left a staunch support group hailing a global power right into its untimely demise".
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Golf purists: Literally everyone else who wishes the sport would take itself even slightly less seriously: Let's just get the obvious out of way, Phil Mickelson acted immaturely in a way that was unbecoming of his stature in the sport of golf. You'd be completely justified in calling him a baby, or a sore loser, or even a mental midget...assuming, of course, that you're cool with being a hypocrite. Perhaps we should hold the pros to a higher standard, but considering Lefty's ball was leaving one of the many greens that kicked some of the best golfers in the world right in the Shinnecock, I couldn't have found it more amusing that he chose to take the common man's mulligan. In fact, after hearing some of this weekend's reviews, all his haters should just be happy that he didn't do so with a Bud Light tallboy spilling out of his off-hand. I couldn't be speaking from more personal experience in saying the following. People that are already +10 on the day don't cheat, they check out. That was pure frustration manifesting itself in the most relatable "fuck it" that you may ever see on the PGA Tour and I, for one, appreciated having my own on-course adolescence legitimized by a legend. All critics should consider this, it takes nothing more than a scroll back through your own personal birthday registry for a reminder that the one day a year in which your peers allow you to get away with acting younger is the same day in which you turn a year older. Therefore, we shouldn't be debating whether or not Doug should kick him off the tour, but rather focusing on trying to fit 48 candles on his ice cream cake and a bright red rubber sleeve on his putter head...
It's Phil's party and he'll lie if he wants to. Which is exactly what he did when he claimed it was the rules that governed his decision to whack his wayward ball back onto the green, as opposed to the same type of temper that's led to no less than 10 billion adult tantrums...
I have to be honest, other than this serving as a reinforcement of the notion that this NBA offseason stands to be more entertaining than the actual basketball that preceded it, I'm not too sure what to make of this news. That, of course, isn't because I've been blind to the writing that the Spurs' two-way super-cyborg has burnt into the wall with his lifeless stare as he remained at odds with a medical staff that cleared him to play months ago, but rather because I've never known what to make of all this. Maybe the match was just better in theory than it was in execution, because Gregg Popovich and Kawhi Leonard have always seemed like the perfectly joyless pair. The idea that the more reserved of the two parties actually "spoke up" and asked out of what's been the most consistently solid culture in sports throughout the last two decades due to a lack of trust fails to register with me. Granted, it was probably more of a "blink twice and power down if you want to be traded" type situation, but it's still weird that a relationship between the organization that's set the bar for sustained success and the mild-mannered spawn of man and machine became fractured beyond repair. Especially since the latter is literally built in the updated mold of Tim Duncan by being a humble, hard-working player on both ends of the court whose skill set was tailor made to dominate during the era in which he was discharged. We all should have listened to Will Smith, because apparently even the most reliable of robot is capable of going rogue. I sort of feel as though this is the sports equivalent of that breakup between the "perfect couple" in your social circle that leaves you wondering if true love actual exists. The main difference being that instead of giving off an aura of genuine happiness, the Spurs and Kawhi Leonard always seemed to share the same deadpan desire to win that was too insatiable for anything more than a sporadic smile. I guess it's true that there's really no such thing as unhappily ever after, and those that do the best job making you believe there is are doomed to eventually let you down. The seemingly inevitable movement of another star player will increase the dramatics of what's sure to be an eventful NBA offseason exponentially. Still, as much as I'm excited for the spin-off of this soap opera, I'll miss the staunch s(p)urliness of the original series. Opposites must attract, because on the outside looking in there didn't seem to be a better fit for Kawhi Leonard from a personality perspective than San Antonio.
I typically keep a feather tucked in the craw for instances in which officials take it upon themselves steal the spotlight, but I think I have to soften my stance on behalf of those whose judgement calls govern their respective game on a bi-minute basis. Being a home plate umpire has to be one of the most thankless jobs in all of sports. Therefore, in the rare instance that one gets a little too impassioned in his punch out I think we just need to consider it an occupational hazard of dealing with a startling disparity between things to get yelled at for and things to get excited about for hours on end. I mean, even as the catcher in this situation you'd to be a real prick to get pissed about a swift jab of justice that was in response to a call going your way. If you ask me, that pitch was a wee bit high, so the perhaps the player who tried to frame it should really be more outwardly appreciative of how anxious big blue was to hammer home the nails in hanging that 'K'. After all, happily fixing your helmet is a better fate than having to duck and cover from the type of aimless bat flip that would leave American traditionalists covering their children's eyes and writing nastily-worded letters to the editor...
There will be a lot of people that scoff at the idea of Hugh Freeze as a life coach, and rightfully so. After all, we are talking about a guy that got fired as a coach because he's not at all ethical as it pertains to life. Seeing as he's less than a year removed being found out as paying for both players and prostitutes while on the recruiting trail, you don't have to do too much digging to find a reason to suspect that he might not have all that much clout as a lecturer of lawful and lust-less living. What he does have, presumably, is enough local celebrity to charge vulnerable and damaged football fans an egregious sum of money to essentially accompany him through rehab. Say what you want about the moralistic merits of the special guest of this "faith-based retreat", but - assuming more than a handful of people pay to be preached at poolside - you can't say that he doesn't know how to leverage his past into a much bigger future. That's more of a spot-on a description of this inexplicably exorbitant endeavor than I could have ever dreamt up. If only throughout that one tagline, there was no false advertisement there! If a recently disgraced college football coach is able to make a couple thousand dollars out of little to no sense then, if nothing else, he has what it takes to grease the wheels in profiting off "personal growth". The idea that you'll come out on the other side of a weekend long spa sermon from a snake-oil salesman with a cleansed soul and a reinvigorated perspective is laughable to see the least. Though, for what it's worth (which is apparently between $3,000 and $4,000), if failing is the fastest route to learning then Hugh Freeze might be the most educated of expert in every single objective on that checklist. Still not sure I'd trust him, of all people, to teach them to anyone, but I guess that's why they are calling it a faith-based retreat.
To be honest, I wasn't sure this was even worth writing about, as it hardly could be described as news just yet. In theory, a potential season-long suspension of a player that was just traded for a third round pick coming down the urinary tract before said player has even put on pads for his new team is pretty damn noteworthy, but the concern caused the mere possibility of Martavis Bryant facing discipline? Yeaaaaah, not so much. It may not have come across the ticker as such, but the acceptance of the condition that Jon Gruden will never get a good night's rest when wondering what his new wideout is up to is what eventually sealed the deal for an endlessly talented freak of an athlete. Being unable to stay on the field because he can't stay off the weed was the risk involved in luring him to California, of all places, in the offseason. I'm sure the worry is more warranted than usual and that the Raiders have been tipped off by a league that's probably one tainted test away from demanding that Martavis Bryant wear a diaper and mail in his dirties to their HQ. Still, it's very telling that the Raiders fearing his suspension could have easily been the result of them waking up out of a nightmare in a cold sweat on a random Spring Saturday. Whether or not the use of something as harmless as marijuana should still be gradually closing the limited earning windows of professional athletes that put the health of their mind, body, and brain on the line in the year 2018 is decidedly up for debate. However, Martavis Bryant being one of "prevailing" examples of a zero tolerance rule (no matter how dumb) leaving a player's promising career in constant jeopardy is decidedly not.
And on the extensive list of things that separates you, I, or any other weekend warrior from the top golfers in all the world, we have a new difference atop the leaderboard. Unfortunately for those, much like myself, that pride themselves on drinking just enough to vehemently blame the booze, a complete inability to judge just about every factor that might contribute to the flight pattern of a ball has officially been pushed into second place. It's replacement as the most stark contrast between the lives of pros and joes is, somewhat surprisingly, not having a goddamn search party at our disposal when said ball happens to land wherever the wind might take it. For a quick second, I almost considered that scene to be the most relatable moment in U.S. Open history, seeing as I misplace more shots than I take (an unusual amount of) pride in. However, the truth of the matter is that Tiger Woods and Co. just looked for Dustin Johnson's ball more diligently than I have ever looked for one of my own. Like, that's a thirty second clip and if it were taken of me in the same circumstance I would have crammed in 4-6 aimless whacks at the brush, a dejected endeavor back into a rapidly depleting sleeve of balls, and a generous underhand toss that fell about 15 yards up the fairway but not far enough onto it that I'd have to explain myself to anyone. To be honest, if I actually found out where half my tee shots ended up then I'd probably just crack beers in the clubhouse instead, but for that 15-second span in which I'm actually determined to find my ball it would be nice to have around 30 people matching that intensity.
Contrary to his "I've been stuck in the same damn cubical for the last four decades"-like demeanor, I actually couldn't be more certain that Winston Moss loves his job as linebacker coach for a prestigious organization like the Green Bay Packers. That might sound stupid seeing as he went out of his to suppress anything that could even accidentally be mistaken for a smile, but he'd have to be content with his current position to completely sabotage his own upward mobility. Somewhere between the time he interviewed to become the head coach of the Detroit Lions and now, Winston Moss must have decided that a promotion is not his priority, seeing as he'd make Bill Belichick look like an open book by comparison if he weren't four floors away from being placed on the same shelf. Trust me, I'm not usually one to hop on board the "journalists have a job to do too!" train, but it was just simply inefficient not to kill two birds with one stone by throwing them a bone when the one he had stuck up his ass was so readily available. We're talking about a mini-camp here. It's sunny, the stakes are low, and the only real news is a failure to appear at all open to giving any whatsoever. For that reason I'm stuck siding with the meddlesome media, as the least I can offer a reporter who turned into a nagging girlfriend out of neglect is some combination of sympathy and pity. Somehow, that's exponentially more than Winston Moss gave him by answering easy questions with nothing more than irritability. Oh well, at least we can be certain that the questions from those with which he chose to a dick for no apparent reason won't stand to get anymore difficult when he actually has his job performance to answer to...
LBS- Clemson wide receiver Tee Higgins found himself in some hot water earlier this week when a car salesman shared a photo of him on social media posing in front of an exotic car, but head coach Dabo Swinney defended his player over the situation.
After the photo went viral, Higgins’ mother took to social media to insist her son could never afford a $200,000 car and doesn’t even have a job. Higgins said he had no knowledge that his image would be used in a promotion, and the NCAA sent the dealership a cease-and-desist and chose not to sanction the receiver. On Wednesday, Swinney defended Higgins and said someone was taking advantage of the youngster for publicity. “That’s the world we live in. It is what it is. I think everything’s an opportunity to learn,” Swinney said, via Grace Raynor of The Post and Courier. “He’s one of the best kids that you’ll ever have and be around and it just kind of comes with the territory,” Swinney said. “You learn from it, but obviously there’s a lot of what do you call it — fish bait? Or click bait? Isn’t that what they call it, click bait? Trying to get some story. “That’s just the world that we live in. So you’ve got to be smart and hope that you can just avoid those types of situations that create false perceptions. But as long as you do what’s right, you ain’t gotta worry about it.” -------- Ugh, those damn fish baiters are at it again. Just casting a bunch of lines in the direction of young, naive athletes in hopes that they can get a bite from a soon-to-be college star and reel in some excess publicity by way of an impressionable teenager that's willing to trade an obvious photo-op for a ride in a fancy sports car. Here's a rhetorical question, have they no shame?!? Now, I don't want to kill a kid for taking the bait of keys to a McLaren Spider, but I do find it at least mildly concerning that he wasn't able to recognize it as such. After all, if you hung that greaseball of a worm in the water then the stink would have repelled even the most senseless of sea creatures. All it really should have taken was one look at the walking, talking stereotype standing next to him for Tee Higgins to realize he was being taken advantage of. The slicked back hair that was somehow completely oblivious to the receding line from which it came? The loose dress clothes that fit his profession better than they fit the Marshall's manakin he bought them off of? The sly smirk and a thumbs up that might as well have a rattle attached to it as it is the universal sign of a complete snake? I've never been a local celebrity so I've never been leeched off of, but someone whose office could be put on wheels and relocated to a neighboring county within the hour has parasite written all over him. I appreciate Dabo Swinney coming to the defense of one of his players, but I actually disagree with the notion that Tee Higgins had to be smart to see how this was going to play out publicly. Hopefully he learned his lesson and goes on to fulfill his limitless potential, but it probably couldn't hurt to prioritize working on his awareness before he accidentally runs the wrong route into an NCAA infraction. They won't have to pray too hard on his downfall if he keeps dancing with the type of person whose business card would read 'The Devil' if it were at all accurate...
Now that the buzz has (presumably) worn off on what's been a week long bender for a Washington Capitals' club whose tolerance has been built up by offseason after offseason of having to drink away their second round sorrows, this sobering story is long overdue. The fact that even the most tragic of catastrophes tend to have but a short-term staying power in both our minds and our hearts is a sad truth, but it's a truth nonetheless. The bus crash that took the lives of sixteen kids and coaches, the health of thirteen others that were also pursuing their passion, the innocence (and much, much more) of their families and friends, and the peace of mind of countless people with even the loosest of ties to the team, the city, and the sport happened a little over two months ago. Yet, to even the most compassionate of unattached fan, I'd bet the wounds don't seem anywhere close to that fresh. The hockey world showed an overwhelming amount of support for a disaster that could have easily effected any one of us, and it still feels as though it came and went too quickly. So credit to Chandler Stephenson for recognizing that the small Canadian town with which he shared a province growing up could still use a small reason to smile as it's still very much in mourning. For as relatable as the celebratory "boys will be boys"-style binge drinking has been, the unifying power of hockey is that much greater a reflection of its sense of community. The Capitals' forward doesn't seemed to have forgotten that, as it sounded as though Saskatchewan never left his mind as he achieved his lifelong dream of raising the Stanley Cup. Humboldt deserves a day with hockey's ultimate prize, as the strength that its survivors have shown says just as much about as the sport as the tens of thousands of sticks that were left leaning on porches. A Safety On The Kentucky Football Team Was Arrested For Basically Running A Full Blown Drug Den6/14/2018 SECCountry- When former Kentucky safety Marcus Walker was arrested at 4:40 a.m. on May 24 in Lexington on drug trafficking charges, police found $430 in cash in his pockets.
After a search, $70,312 was found in a bag by a closet and another $25,000 was found in a box in the top-floor bedroom of a townhome he shared. During the search, police found 52.86 grams of suspected powder cocaine in a kitchen cabinet along with digital scales and packaging material. More than 5 pounds of marijuana was found throughout the house — in a water heater closet, a counter next to the stove, under a bed and in a backpack. Walker, 21, was arrested and booked into the Fayette County Detention Center on charges of trafficking marijuana and cocaine. His roommate, Tavon Wells, faces the same charges. Walker was released on bond the next day. Walker, from Lake Wales, Fla., was dismissed by Kentucky coach Mark Stoops less than a week after his arrest. He recorded 5 tackles in 12 games last season, contributing mostly on special teams. Police were initially dispatched to the home at 11:04 p.m. on May 23 in response to a reported disorder, according to an affidavit for a warrant to search the townhome. A dispatcher heard a woman say she had been hit by a male subject, and the front window of the townhome had been broken, the affidavit said. It’s not clear from the report who was involved, but Walker opened the door when officers arrived and said that Wells and his girlfriend had left the residence after an argument. “Inside the door, the living room was in a state of disarray with all the furniture and television strewn across the floor along with marijuana, cash, and blood,” the affidavit said. One officer observed three clear bags in plain view, “approximately the size of a soccer ball full of marijuana.” Outside, several $20 bills and baggies of marijuana were lying on the ground in front of the residence, according to the report. -------- I got to be honest here. This just seems like a lack of commitment on the part of Marcus Walker. With how out of whack his priorities were, it was merely a matter of time before he got himself into trouble by spreading himself too thin. I mean, not to encourage drug distribution amongst our youth, but to be that deep in the game he had to make a pretty definitive decision as to what mattered to him most, and it definitely wasn't his stature as a college football player. If you ask me, with nearly $100K in the cut and just a handful of special teams tackles to his name, the choice as to what to pursue was as clear as the baggies he was using to peddle premium powder. As unfortunate as it may be, Kentucky's backup safety was far more likely to become Tony Montana than Tony Jefferson, so devoting the amount of time and energy required to play SEC football while dealing felonious counts of drugs was simply irresponsible. In fact, you can even make a weak argument that his social connections wouldn't have led to both an on-sight domestic incident and the most self-incriminating crime scene imaginable if he had simply given up his side hustle as a student-athlete. After all, who even needs the camaraderie of sports or benefits of schooling when you're in a class of your own as an on-campus supplier? Certainly not the guy whose teammate's relationship troubles turned his apartment into a treasure hunt for a drug hound as opposed to a fully functioning trafficking operation!
In almost all cases in which the wrongdoing is not willful, I would say it's extremely unnecessary for one professional athlete to flatly apologize to another as it's generally understood that those who get paid millions to play sports are trying their best. It can typically be interpreted, through both common sense and non-verbal communication, who is letting who down, so I'd imagine that a verbal atonement really only stands to somehow makes things even more awkward in an already contentious clubhouse. In this case, however, I would say it's extremely unnecessary for Todd Frazier to flatly apologize to Jacob deGrom until there's been at least one sliver of evidence that he's happened upon a solution. Apparently it's easier said than done, but perhaps the guy who struck out three times in a 2-0 loss should take a crack at making some contact before offering condolences. Nothing comes off as more disingenuous than repeatedly apologizing for the same damn breach of trust, and...well...just take a look at this shit...
At this point, any Mets' hitter who tries to make amends with Jacob deGrom is the baseball equivalent of a "sex addict" saying sorry to his wife while he reeks of latex and has another woman's lipstick on his collar. Todd Frazier may have had all the right intentions, but so does the alcoholic father who stops at the bar for one single beer on the way home from work. To put it mildly, the entire lineup is way, way, way past any sort of verbal penance. There's no amount of 'Hail Marys' or 'Our Fathers' that can possibly make up for the sins of a team that has just straight up whiffed behind ten acts of a God-like arm, so it's time to work on fixing things in the batter's box as opposed to the confessional booth. Actions speak louder than words, so I wouldn't even blame Jacob deGrom if he were no more than seven shutout innings in a low-scoring loss away from demanding that one of his many underwhelming teammates literally fall on an actual sword as a selfless sacrifice to the Angels In The Outfield. That might seem excessive, but the Mets' offense has been rendered way too impotent for far too long not to take tangible steps to erecting their ace's spirits.
------ So I guess the only question is...what's the catch? It's not that I'm not happy that the NCAA is finally throwing the unpaid student-athletes who've built the organization's net-worth to a figure that ranges in double-digits the most bargain basement of bone, I just can't find an answer for the most obvious of question... Given both their hard-headed history and a business model that still remains laughably flawed, I have my doubts that this is an effort to either do right by the players or silence the critics...
Therefore, I'm left wondering how making what is only a slightly less hypocritical transferring process circumstantially easier on the kids they typically treat like recyclable trash stands to financially benefit those that run the business of college sports under the transparent ruse that it's amateur athletics. I don't know much about what goes on behind the scenes, but I do know that the NCAA has never gone with the flow unless there was an ulterior motive powering that revenue stream. Money is somehow, someway the motivation here. I'm unclear as to how, which I guess in a weird way is of small credit to the organization whose greed usually comes off as clear and present stupidity, as opposed to baseline common sense.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the social media representation of NBA officiating walked right into this one, seeing as the combination of sticking their nose in at an inopportune time and shitty situational whistleblowing are kind of their thing. If there were any party that would inaccurately read the room only to fail in sincerely acknowledging a silly strategy that was halfheartedly conjured up by way of online boredom during the offseason then it was bound to be a referee with more self-seriousness than self-awareness. I mean, of all the multitude of regulations to reference in turning to ashes, ashes the legality of an approach as intentionally over-the-top as the 'Ring-Around-The-Curry', an NBA official chose to finally call upon a moving pick?! And against the team whose historically efficient offense is most highly dependent on them going completely ignored, no less! A week after the Finals ended, what a time to get strict on Steph Curry's use of screens! To the referee who shall remain anonymous, I ask the following. Did you think we just didn't notice that illegal screens have long gone the way of the carry? I realize it was the most obvious rule to elicit in this case, but it's also the most obvious rule to prove extinct...
Let me guess, I'm also to believe that James Harden and the Houston Rockets are adopting the 'Princeton Offense' in the offseason because both top-flight traveling and shamelessly flopping into shooting fouls are both going to be appropriately scrutinized next season? Come on now! Not only was this a dumb time to invoke the letter of the law, but it was a fool's errand to pretend that the player in question doesn't bottle that shit up and throw it in the ocean every time he ever-so-casually finds his way onto an island for a wide-open corner three. As If Praise Were Something He Was Lacking, LeSean McCoy Already Thinks Josh Allen Is "Special"6/13/2018
Oh Shady. Shady, Shady, Shady. I understand why the Bills veteran running back would give his vote of confidence to the endlessly skilled rookie quarterback that will, in some respects, determine the fate of his immediate future. I just can't help but think he would have been better off acting in accordance with his own nickname and keeping his support in the shadows until the Wyoming product threw even one single pass against a professional pass defense in pads. I genuinely hope that Josh Allen has a long and productive NFL career, but the fact remains that he has an unusually high bust potential for a top ten pick. For someone that is admittedly skeptical of first year players, LeSean McCoy sure fell into a pretty familiar trap by getting wooed by someone whose scouting report is highly strengthened by the work he's done in shorts...
Setting your expectations too high too soon is the quickest way to ensure they won't be met, and Shady doesn't seem like the type to take disappointment in stride. Therefore, perhaps it would have made a bit more sense to wait until the toughness of training camp kicked in to declare his rookie quarterback "special". I'm not saying LeSean McCoy is easily impressed because it's undeniably difficult to throw a football 60 yards with ease, but he is easily influenced with the measurables by which the selection of an inaccurate college quarterback was supported. I do hope he ends up being right. Not just because Josh Allen has the potential to become an absolute treat to watch on Sundays, but also because Shady has the potential to become a huge pain in the ass when he's proven wrong.
Wait just a damn minute here. That is not what I signed up for, and I'm not just talking about Greg Hardy stepping away from squaring up against offensive linemen and defenseless women to actually become successful in facing off against those that are professionally and proficiently trained in violence against people of their own size and strength. What I do mean is that I longed for the day that psychopath got shown the door by the NFL so he could be put in a position to get the brutal beatdowns he had coming to him, not so that he could fight former peers that were just as inexperienced. All due respect to Austen Lane, who I'm sure gave it his best effort, but if I wanted proof that Greg Hardy was more dangerous than most football players than I would have watched his f'n highlight tape. I was sold a bill of goods in which "good" was finally going to prevail, and instead I was left watching a domestic abuser get gifted a second chance in professional sports. I guess that more than likely guarantees that we'll eventually see him get his teeth kicked in by someone in the UFC that dedicated a lot more than the last couple of years to training to kill. Still, I feel temporarily robbed of the long overdue punishment of a pummeling that was supposed to ever-so-slightly make up for the prison sentence he somehow avoided. Greg Hardy, of all people, was put in a position to succeed when the only reason anyone remains even mildly interested in his life is in hopes of watching him fail. I'd imagine that's exactly why a business man like Dana White chose to keep us on the line as viewers by propping him up with a win over a manageable opponent, but he better eventually satisfy our thirst for Greg Hardy's demise with a plan to have what's left of his brain damaged by consecutive roundhouse kicks. If he wants even a semblance of his word to remain in tact, that is...
STLToday- A St. Louis jury has awarded millions of dollars to a former NFL running back who suffered a severe knee injury in a game at the Edward Jones Dome in 2015.
The Los Angeles Rams were ordered to pay Reggie Bush $4.95 million in compensatory damages and $7.5 million in punitive damages. The jury found the Rams 100 percent liable for Bush's injury. He had also sued public agencies that own and operate the Dome, but they were dismissed from the suit by a judge last week after arguing the football team had control of operations at the facility on game days. "I'm very happy with the verdict," Bush told the Post-Dispatch after the verdict. "The people spoke and decided very fairly." ----- First and foremost, it's just nice to see the little guy get a win for once. I know that feels like a weird thing to say that about a universally recognizable athlete that lays claim to maybe the most viewed highlight tape in sports history, a gone-but-not-forgotten Heisman Trophy, the endless love of a region that was inspired by his timely draft selection, a Super Bowl ring, and - most importantly given the context - over $60 million dollars in career earnings. However, in comparison to a multi-billion dollar organization that, like all others, only bends over backwards to bend its talent over the barrel, Reggie Bush couldn't be anymore of the sympathetic figure here. Of course, it's preposterously inexcusable to circle your NFL stadium with a slick concrete ring that would primarily be stepped on by freak athletes running uncontrollably in cleats. But even if his season-ending and career-threatening injury wasn't the result of a run-in with an off-the-field death trap, everyone should have been rooting for Reg to come out richer in his legal battle against a representative for a league that shamelessly chews up and spits out it's athletes on the field. If you enjoy your Sunday football in spite of the soulless sycophants that suck dry both the earning power and the brain power of its actual entertainers, then you should have reacted to this news in the same way that the people's prosecution did... — Reggie Bush (@ReggieBush) June 12, 2018 In this case, that's especially true if you happen to be from St. Louis. As someone that couldn't imagine having to deal with having a team I root for uplifted by greed, the idea that even one member of the jury factored their neglected fandom into their decision against a defense that included the prick that orchestrated the move to Los Angeles makes me smile. It's a small win that doesn't make right the fact that Missourians have had to watch the Rams transform into a contender on the Left Coast, but it's a win nonetheless. When your undying hatred is directed at one of the NFL's untouchables, those are harder to come by than a human highlight reel like Reggie Bush. TheBigLead- Marla Ridenour of the Akron Beacon Journal said yesterday on ESPNLA Afternoons with Marcellus and Travis that LeBron is not a fan of Houston (37:07):
“I heard this from his own lips when we were in Houston this season, he does not like Houston as a city. So, that would require him moving to a place he is not crazy about.” ----- One down, twenty-eight to go! Just got to convince everyone, LeBron James included, that LeBron James hates every NBA city other than the one he calls home and he's basically a lock to end up back in Cleveland next season! It's such a brilliant strategy that I can't believe it wasn't employed the first time Akron's own left Ohio burning in an incineration of his own memorabilia! To be clear, I have absolutely no idea where Houston falls on LeBron's list of his favorite domestic destinations. For all I know, it is entirely possible that he finds the wineries in the Deep South to be positively off-putting, and - as a result - he's soured on the entire region. That said, I have a very hard time treating a comment he more than likely made in passing as he prepared to play a far superior Rockets team during a regular season that he largely slept through to be unwavering gospel. Unless LeBron James sat down and crafted a lop-sided list of Houston's cons as he sat across Marla Ridenour, I think it's safe to assume that this is being overblown out of fear that she'll be stuck writing columns on Jordan Clarkson next season. I guess I can't blame her for grasping at every straw in hopes that the Cavaliers won't once again end up with the short end of the stick. However, considering the fact that we're talking about someone that willingly went back to Cleveland, I'm going to need more damning evidence than one comment made an irritable player who was tired of being on the road to cross Houston off the short list of places he can immediately win another title.
OttawaCitizen- Melinda Karlsson has filed an order of protection against the longtime girlfriend of Senators forward Mike Hoffman — alleging a campaign of harassment that plagued the Karlssons after the death of their son and through much of the last NHL season, this newspaper has learned.
It was in late November that the Karlssons announced on social media that they were expecting their first child, a son they would later name Axel Michael who was stillborn on March 19, 2018. “Monika Caryk has uttered numerous statements wishing my unborn child dead,” says Melinda Karlsson’s sworn statement to the court. "She also uttered that she wished I was dead and that someone should ‘take out’ my husband’s legs to ‘end his career'. Monika Caryk has posted over 1,000 negative and derogatory statements about me as a professional.” In March, Sens captain Erik Karlsson blasted an anonymous online troll who, in the comments section of a post mourning his dead son, accused his wife of “popping painkiller medication” during her pregnancy. In an Instagram post mourning his son’s death, Erik Karlsson posted a photo of Axel’s tiny footprints. In the post, Karlsson thanked the city and the team’s fans for their love and support and wrote: “We feel very lucky to be Axel’s parents. Even though he was stillborn, we know we will hold him again one day under different circumstances and the joy he gave us will be with us forever.” The post garnered more than 10,000 comments, with the overwhelming majority of them expressions of support and sympathy for the couple. However, one comment, posted by user @sandydandy45, stood out: “I feel bad for the baby he didn’t have a chance with Melinda popping pain killer medication everyday.” It took the league’s top defenceman just seven minutes to respond: “How dare you. You have been making fake accounts and buying hacked ones for months to harass me and my wife but this is an all new low even for you. You are a disgusting person.” The user @sandydandy45 has since deactivated that account. This newspaper also found other social media users coming to Melinda’s defence after Twitter user @petersonmegan51 used an anti-bullying event to insult her. That account has also since been deleted. --------- Be careful what you wish for. That's how the saying goes, is it not? I ask only because clearly I had forgotten of it's importance as I followed along with the hilarity of the Bryan Colangelo saga and longed for the day in which someone in the NHL would find themselves mired in similarly idiotic internet hijinks. Turns out, the story I thought I was hoping for was right around the corner, but running a burner account that essentially labels the wife of your boyfriend's teammate as a pill-popping baby killer is too hot for me to handle with two dozen oven mitts. I suppose it bears mentioning that Mike Hoffman has denied everything, as any good fiancée to an (alleged) loose cannon/lunatic should, but there seems to be a lot of smoke for there not to be some sort of fire behind extremely personal attacks regarding something as sensitive as someone's deceased child. Just using common sense here, but I think though doth protest too much by claiming "150%" non-involvement when there's already been an order of protection filed and an article from a reputable news source written about said order of protection...
Technically this is still one-sided hearsay at the moment, but if any of it is proven even remotely true then Mike Hoffman looks just as bad as his sociopath of a soon-to-be life partner. Not just because it's his job to keep lady trouble out of the locker room, but because he should be responsible enough not to get down on one knee and pledge his future to the type of person that feels vindicated by the unexpected death of even their own worst enemy's infant. Monica Caryk is probably a freak in a sheets if she is truly that disconnected from reality, but - as an NHL player - Mike Hoffman has to up his standards higher than someone who appears to be mentally ill in the internet streets. If not because his significant other currently comes off as the type to chop her husband's dick off if he doesn't finish doing the dishes to her liking, then because his talent doesn't outweigh his reported baggage by as much as that of the player whose wife finally WAG'd the finger after months of being victimized. A third, fourth, fifth, and sixth party have spoken, and it's not exactly glowingly of the relationship that the Senators' winger is in...
Therefore, if I were Mike Hoffman I might think about prioritizing long-term stability over the absolute psychosis of a fatal attraction. Although, in fairness, the latter does make his relationship a match made in the hellscape that is a dysfunctional organization. If nothing else, it would be very fitting of the Ottawa Senators to get forced into keeping someone who put a ring on a locker room cancer while trading away a franchise cornerstone that damn near dragged them to a Stanley Cup Final on one foot.
There's no doubt about it, this is a classy move. Blurred and slurred in what appears to be an all-time bender is that the liquid diet that the Stanley Cup Champs are currently on came at the expense of an expansion team that overcame historic odds. Ovechkin and Company deserve every single watt of the spotlight, but when - if ever - the proverbial keg finally gets kicked on the Washington Capitals' frat party there's going to come a time when we all sit back and appreciate what the Vegas Golden Knights were able to do in coming within three wins of the most expedited title in sports history. The organization that was doing parade prep got a head start on everyone else by taking out an ad in a Las Vegas newspaper on the day in which they were officially commemorating their championship, and they deserve credit for being so humble in victory. All that being said, I think we can all agree it's a bit easier to shower your opponent with compliments when they are run by the same man that put together half of your roster that will now reign eternal...
Not to make it sound any less generous, of course, but the least the Washington Capitals could have done for George McPhee was to give a noble nod to the second championship contender he has put together in as many tries. I'm sure this was nothing other than a genuine show of praise towards a worthy opponent, but best not forget that "world class" descriptor when the head of that class helped give you the world. |
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