Eli Manning and Ben Roethlisberger: Blake Bortles:
-------- As a football fan, I appreciate Jalen Ramsey for what he is, which is quite obviously an insanely cocky and unabashed asshole that would probably enjoy being identified as such if he actually cared what people thought about him. The packaging on some his opinions is nothing short of obnoxious, but the opinions themselves aren't too, too far off from the general consensus on quality quarterback play, or lack thereof, in the National Football League. As much as I want to say he's wrong for crapping on a bunch of other professionals that have accomplished far more than he has at this point in their respective careers, I would be lying if I said he as was more wrong than he was funny. Therefore, I found some of those critiques worthy of a laugh while knowing full well that my belly might damn near burst when some of these guys that he targeted are inevitably successful in targeting him downfield. That's not really my main takeaway from what was a league-wide roast of the quarterback position though. Instead, my main takeaway was the one punch that was not-so-surprisingly pulled, as the person that would have taken it square on the chin must be sitting pretty awkward right about now. Imagine watching a terrible movie in which all the crappy cast members reminded you of a slightly better version on yourself, with that movie being written by one of your immediate family members. That's how I imagine Blake Bortles felt while reading Jalen Ramsey's thorough dismantling of much, much more preferable and decorated passers. I'd like to believe that even the most combative cornerback in the NFL would never wipe his ass with the name of his own quarterback, but there must be a small part of Blake Bortles that wishes he just got it both out in the open and over with by shitting on him. After all, the things that are typically better left unsaid usually aren't so obvious in being unsaid. At some point or another, I imagine someone is going to bring up this GQ article in the locker room, and only one man's laugh is going to be through gritted teeth when they start joking about it. Unfortunately for Jalen Ramsey, it's the same man with the erratic arm on which his championship aspirations currently resides. As unbearably overconfident and outspoken as the subject of that interview was, the one guy he wasn't comfortable being entirely honest about is really the only one whose performance should matter to him. For that reason alone, being all-too-truthful in talking down all those quarterbacks could make for quite the comeuppance.
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You know, at this point, I'm sort of starting to feel bad that the Washington Nationals have to play out the rest of their schedule. To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm more interested in seeing the players or those that are contractually obligated to both watch and talk about them every day put out of their misery first. You'd think it would be the former, considering the amount of on and off the field incidents that have plagued playoff hopes that are somehow still alive despite taking multiple kill shots between the eyes. However, after listening to two men who are paid to speak through the most trying of circumstances go dead silent for the broadcast equivalent of the running time of Titanic, I'm not so sure that it's not the latter. Suffering heartbreaking loss and heartbreaking loss is tough, but is it as tough as trying to be anything other than speechless while watching Bryce Harper's time in Washington tragically trickle to the darkest of depths? If only because their commentators are apparently running low on words that can accurately describe their dramatic demise, I really hope the Nationals start losing both leads and games prior to the bottom of the 9th inning. It's pretty clear all invested parties would benefit most from letting go and enjoying the sweet release of complete irrelevance together instead of having to flip a coin to decide who's pulling whose plug. Their heart might go on, but their collective soul has already been vanquished...
That's it? That's it?!?! Kelvin Benjamin's retrospective blaming of everyone other than himself and his gutlessness in the confrontation that followed afforded his former quarterback all the leeway in the world to be aggressively passive in response to the easiest of targets (that didn't start as a fat joke, but alas...), and with it he chose to go full-Ernie in professing his love to the damn wall? I just knew it was an accident to be so complimentary of the way Cam Newton handled an awkward situation with a scorned playmaker (by position only). I mean, talk about peeing his proverbial pants when it comes to taking advantage of such a golden opportunity... To be clear, I'm aware that the grade of shade that Cam Newton is able to overthrow from his team's official social media account is limited by the age range of its audience. Still, complimenting the trustworthiness of inanimate objects in an effort to call Kelvin Benjamin a backstabbing snake without actually saying so doesn't exactly disprove his point. I personally think his point sucks. That, unfortunately, makes it all the more inexplicable that the person who was the direct target of it didn't go find one single teammate to loyally stand by his side as sturdily as some sheetrock as he tried his hand at public pettiness. As far as I am concerned, Cam Newton can take as many shots as he wants at the Bills' wide receiver that's about to learn in the hardest of ways exactly how stupid he was in saying that any QB would have been an improvement to his former QB. That said, if the goal there was to hit Kelvin Benjamin with a comeback, then the first dig was ironically inaccurate.
Let's start by stating some facts here. Flinching is an involuntary reaction to an instantaneous and unexpected threat of harm. Therefore, it knows not size, safety, or circumstance. We neither will nor should treat the fact that all the Jets' wide receiver did was prove he has the inherently human ability to detect immediate danger as the main takeaway here, but it is important to note that competition only makes a select few athletes into robotic lunatics that aren't programmed to have fearful instincts... All that being said, this is just a terrible, terrible look for a guy who was already getting zero respect from the team he underwhelmed for last season. That visual of a fully-padded player that stood 6 inches taller and 20 pounds heavier than the entirely unprotected ex-teammate that was verbally setting fire to the fiber of his being getting head-faked halfway into a Tony Hawk trick after having a ball he had both hands on battled from his grasp. That visual is one that can only be recovered from by way of physical confrontation. It's not so much the flinch that I'm critical of, as almost everyone of us would have done the same if we were in his much bigger shoes, but his refusal to tie those big boy shoes back on after having his feet shook straight out of them that leaves me thinking a little bit less less of Terrelle Pryor. Just take into account the tone that has been set by the Jets and Redskins joint practices...
...and it's almost impossible not to question the personal pride of the towering presence who turtled then tucked his tail in the face of someone who was reminding the entirety of two organizations of his past failures. I'm not the hyper-masculine type to think that every war of words needs to be hashed out with haymakers, but you can't simply walk away sheepishly after getting both bodied and emasculated like that while playing a sport in which the ability to intimidate is such a huge asset. Especially after having your own claim that your former team can't guard you made to look laughable...
To be fair, did we really expect the NHL, of all leagues, to have a firm grasp on the meaning of the term "diversity"? By inflating the numbers instead of actually altering the percentages in any sort of equitable way, they basically acted as inclusive as a preppy fraternity that doubled the size of its average pledge class to feel better about the addition of black twins, but at least the wool they are pulling over our eyes this time around doesn't have a massive hole in it. As much of a farce as it is for them to claim diversification when five extremely predictable teams account for 37% of the schedule, this is a hell of a lot more respectable attempt at tricking the viewing public than dedicating a night of the week to the full-on fabrication of non-existent rivalries. I still see through their bullshit, but at least this time around I had to get a little closer and take a unpleasant whiff to tell that's exactly what it is. This schedule is insanely top heavy with match-ups we've seen 300 times over featuring teams like the Blackhawks and Rangers whose pathetic performance last year isn't reflected in their national appearances next year. However, the NHL apparently does now care enough to try to shield our eyes before giving a public tug job to traditional markets. They are basically doing the equivalent of giving pity dates to ethic-looking women to prove there's no prejudice, but actually appearing self-aware to their stubborn reputation in making it seem like showcasing the entirety of their talent is their first priority is a step in the right direction...albeit a small one.
And, as Jalen Ramsey so threateningly put it, the "war" on reporters continues. Appointing one who has been on the Steelers' beat since before Terry Bradshaw's hairline was beyond repair to be the court jester of training camp seems a bit odd, but such is the result of athletes projecting their daily frustrations on those with which the general public is most likely to pile on. I wasn't there, so I have absolutely no idea if Antonio Brown had a little hitch in his giddy-up as he prematurely left practice for a period of time, but I have hard time believing that an elderly journalist maniacally manufactured some limp so that his mentions would turn into a mosh pit of bipolar maniacs overreacting to a matter-of-fact update. Given his flare for the dramatic, there's a chance that Antonio Brown's exaggerated pimp walk was misinterpreted as a side effect of his groin strain from Saturday by a reporter who definitely has a hard time understanding kids these day, but "making shit up" he was not. I'd imagine training camp is also a grind for the people covering it. Obviously it's not as physically or mentally as taxing as it is for the players, but does anyone - outside of AB, apparently - really believe that a 60-something year old member of the media intentionally made himself the target of the most terrible of towels during the dog days of summer by lying about the health of team's star wide receiver? Seeing as he's seated at the head of the 'Sports' section for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, as opposed to across from Skip Bayless, I see a lot more value in him reporting on what he saw than him compromising his journalistic credibility for some hate clicks. Antonio Brown can paint him in a red nose if he wants, but Ed Bouchette only tweeted about a limp because he saw a limp. That might mean he needs to see an optometrist, but it doesn't mean he needs to be hooked up to a polygraph.
It's wouldn't necessarily consider it a secret that a little confidence goes a long way, but if you needed further proof of that than look no further than the Marlins' first base coach doing wonders for the social acceptability of wearing your food by candidly lining his helmet with lettuce in broad day light. I don't know that I too would give no fucks in using greens to keep myself fresh if I were in his position, but with how little hesitation he showed in doing so, I'd be a fool to not consider it. Every trend starts with a vast majority of society peering at it's pioneer as if he/she had...well...a whole ass leaf of lettuce on their head, so why should literally having a whole ass leaf of lettuce on your head be any different? The truth is, I have no idea if lettuce helps in keeping the wearer of it cool in the summer sun. I do know that I no longer feel comfortable knocking it until l try it after the person who introduced it had "funny you should ask..."-type facts at his beck and call the second he was called out for it. I'm not about to get shunned from the produce section for testing cabbage for it's Under Armour-esque qualities. Therefore, from here on it Perry Hill is my foremost authority on all vegetative vestures and the use of salad for dress as opposed to dressing one's salad. If only because he's an incredibly convincing one, if I do say so myself.
Well, it's not the first time we've heard about an overanxious fan going to extreme lengths in seeking out his 15 seconds of fame in the belly of the beast, but it's sure as shit the time in which the beast was at it's most volatile. As your average, everyday asshole, I can't think of too many things I'd be more frightful of being mistaken for than an NFL hopeful on an NFL field during the stretch of training camp in which tempers have reached an absolute boil. Like, by all means, let me be caught in a gunman's periphery while wearing all beige and hiking through the woods during hunting season if the alternative is to go head-to-head in a battle for leverage against an NFL safety whose been clashing with familiar faces for hot summer weeks on end. Meanwhile, some schmuck off the street is out there willing to turn himself into the equivalent of a made-to-order carcass in a lion's den all in the name of the unfulfilling and never-ending search for attention on the internet. Had he gotten the retweets, or whatever he was looking for, then I suppose it would be tough to argue that he didn't earn them, but I still can't help but feel as though the Steelers would have been better served to put him through an Oklahoma drill to set an unmistakable precedent that the gridiron is no place for games. Even if there were legal reasons that deterred them from doing so, the least they could have done was drained the entirety of this intestines by letting him reach the front of the line in a full contact drill. I get that it's important to eliminate distractions, but it seems like Mike Tomlin missed a golden opportunity for his team to bond in a way fitting of a pack of a sharks circling its prey until, at the very least, said prey released some embarrassingly unpleasant secretions.
As a fan of the "we'll make it work" mentality, I find there to be very little more annoying than getting amped up to play a game only to have it canceled due to some unforeseen inconvenience. Therefore, I appreciate the ingenuity, as much genius as it lacked, that the Swiss League showed in not letting a minor leak rain on their preseason parade. I guess I just have one question, and that is exactly how bad was this leak that a bucket was less of an obstacle than the puddle it was put in place of? Far be it for me to assume I could've done better, but inserting a goddamn garbage can as a makeshift forechecker seems like an overcorrection for anything less than a defensive zone flood warning. I understand that there was no time to give the roof some much needed TLC, but their means of precaution makes it seem as though they were chasing a mid-game waterfall in trying to put this meaningless practice game in books. Playing around a wet spot wouldn't have given anywhere near as preposterous a visual, so I do appreciate that they didn't keep it that simple. However, if this leak wasn't a precursor to the roof caving in then couldn't the damage it was causing have been swept up accordingly between whistles, as opposed to caught one drop at a time by a third defenseman?
Yeaaaaah, nope. Considering the presumptuous and disingenuous state of click-bait culture, there's not a lot that we won't consider well-deserved when professional athletes point the finger back at the media, but essentially dragging that finger across their neck in the form of a threat definitely isn't one of them. I don't want to make it seem like I don't understand the frustration. The media makes for an easy target to players who are tired of targeting each other, as they are inclined to make too much of training camp dust-ups that are typically just a byproduct of teammates beating the bejesus out of each other throughout the dog days of summer as they blend into one another. That said, I hardly classify videotaping two professionals running around in circles trying to fight each other without pads on after practice to be "too much", just as I hardly classify the dutiful beat reporter doing so to be a mal-practicing member of the media. I mean, we probably asked for one of these outbursts to finally go awry by finding Jalen Ramsey's outspoken antics to be overwhelmingly amusing, but if I were him I'd save the forewarning of impending violence for those that aren't simply leaving exactly what happened open to public interpretation. Unless I am missing something, Phillip Heilman merely did his job objectively, making him far less worthy of the twitter finger crosshairs than those that are going to turn the suspension the Jaguars' contentious corner went out of his way to earn himself into 48 straight hours worth of intentionally combative content. The umbrella under which the term "media" falls nowadays is big enough for every person with a public platform to gain access. Therefore, if you're going to go from throwing shade to raising hell then at least take specific aim at the people making something out of what you perceive to be nothing as opposed to the person who posted that "nothing" as clear and concise context for the suspension it was inevitably disciplined with...
Killing (literally or figuratively, apparently) the messenger isn't going to stop the message from circulating regardless, so maybe it would be wiser to throw shots at the entities that are far more likely to mismanage it. ESPN- Maryland offensive lineman Jordan McNair showed signs of extreme exhaustion, had difficulty standing upright while running a set of 110-yard sprints and was found to have a body temperature of 106 degrees at a local hospital before he died of heatstroke suffered during a football workout, multiple sources told ESPN.
The 19-year-old from Randallstown, Maryland, collapsed during an outdoor Terrapins workout on May 29. He died two weeks later. No cause of death has been officially released, but ESPN has learned of an official heatstroke conclusion and new details about what happened to McNair based upon interviews with multiple sources in and close to the Terrapins program, as well as two witnesses to the workout. Current Maryland players describe a culture of fear and intimidation within the football program in the run-up to offensive lineman Jordan McNair's death. McNair's death, and whether university coaches and officials followed proper protocols after he became distressed, are being investigated by Dr. Rod Walters, a university-hired, former longtime collegiate athletic trainer. Walters' report is expected to be released Sept. 15. McNair's parents have hired the Baltimore law firm of Murphy, Falcon & Murphy to investigate as well. The May 29 workout, which was organized and led by the Maryland strength and conditioning staff, began at 4:15 p.m. ET. McNair and other linemen were near the end of their sprint set when McNair started having obvious difficulties, according to multiple sources. McNair family attorney Billy Murphy told ESPN on Thursday that McNair had a seizure at about 5 p.m., following a sprint. Maryland athletic director Damon Evans has said previously that the team gathered for a scheduled, supervised workout around 4:15 p.m. at its outdoor practice fields. The strength and conditioning staff, led by Rick Court, supervised the workout. Certified athletic trainers were present. It was about 80 degrees when the workouts began, and after a warm-up, the players were told to run 10 110-yard sprints. Evans has said that McNair completed the entire workout before falling ill. He said trainers noticed that McNair was having some trouble recovering and began "providing necessary care." But multiple witnesses at the workout told ESPN that McNair had physical difficulty before the workout ended and needed two teammates to help him complete the 10th sprint. "There's no way he finished on his own," one of the players at the workout told ESPN. "There were multiple people that said, 'Wow, Jordan looks f---ed up, he doesn't look all right,'" the player said. "We knew he was really exhausted, but we didn't know he was in danger of his life. But that doesn't mean that a medical professional shouldn't know to put him in an ice tub." Multiple sources said that after the 10th sprint finished, Wes Robinson, Maryland's longtime head football trainer, yelled, "Drag his ass across the field!" A second player at the workout told ESPN: "Jordan was obviously not in control of his body. He was flopping all around. There were two trainers on either side of him bearing a lot of weight. They interlocked their legs with his in order to keep him standing." Maryland officials have said McNair "was talking to our trainers throughout" and that after the completion of the workout, the trainers "began supporting an active recovery and providing care." Multiple sources estimated that trainers walked McNair around for about 80 yards after he started showing distress. "They tried to walk him for a while after he collapsed," the second player who spoke to ESPN said. "His head, he barely had control over it. His head was limp to the point where it was back. They were walking him across the field to get him up and moving, I guess. But then they basically took him over to position drills, which took a long time. I didn't see them bring him in, but it was a while." The first player who spoke to ESPN said: "It was a good [distance] for a guy in his state to be walking, and it was away from the athletic training building, away from any resource that he probably needed at the time. Probably 100 percent the opposite way." Maryland officials said trainers walked with McNair as part of their active recovery efforts before he was taken by a motorized cart to the athletic training room in the football team house for "further observation and continued treatment." Maryland players are required to receive a medical clearance at the start of the practice season, and all players participating in the May 29 workout had previously received medical clearances from team physicians to participate in football activities, according to the university. That heatstroke might have been the cause of McNair's death was first raised by his family on a personal website. His parents, Tonya Wilson and Martin McNair, declined comment for this story. According to the Mayo Clinic, heatstroke can occur when a body temperature rises to 104 degrees or higher. It requires emergency treatment and "the damage worsens the longer treatment is delayed, increasing risk of serious complications or death." ----------- Not that any amount of retrospection is going to bring solace to a family that lost their 19 year old son to college football conditioning drills, but it probably shouldn't have taken us this long to realize that a teenage kid with enough athletic ability to earn himself a free education at a reputable university didn't simply fall victim to working out on a hot day. Sadly, we probably only accepted that as an explanation for what took the life of Jordan McNair because Maryland isn't what anyone would consider "good" at football and therefore they couldn't possibly be one of the universities that prioritized success in it above basic human decency, but such is the state of a broken institution. I really don't want to let D.J. Durkin and the rest of the Terrapins' staff that has been belatedly placed on administrative leave off the hook by viewing these particularly unforgivable incidents through a panoramic lens over the landscape of the Power 5. However, the fact that this story is far more jarring than it is surprising is pretty telling of the type of toxicity we've come to accept as an occupational hazard of a sport that is amateur in power structure only. In no world, other than the one in which college football unabashedly operates under the damn near religious premise that winning is to be done at any and all costs, could the line between endurance-based exercise and authority-based exhaustion become as blurry as the vision of the kid whose life was cut insanely short by the ambiguity. The one workplace in which the entirety of the labor force gets no financial return on their physical and emotional investment is the same one in which the higher-ups are most ruthless in reinforcing their leverage. I suppose attaching the job security of unsupervised disciplinarians to the performance of student-athletes whose only recourse is to be massive inconvenienced by transferring was bound to lead to pseudo-dictatorships. Still, it couldn't be more damning of the nationwide culture in which Maryland football operates that one of their players was forced to run himself into an early grave before they were viewed as abnormal enough to be noteworthy. Even as someone who loves nothing more than plastering his ass to the couch throughout the entirety of a September Saturday, I can say that the finished product isn't anywhere near worthy of the shady business practices that go into its manufacturing. In a "if you love something, let it go..." type of way, I think I'd be fine with firing college football as a collective into the sun and hoping it re-enters the atmosphere having been incinerated free of it's dangerously corrupt and shamelessly exploitative aura. If only that option were anywhere near as profitable as it would be beneficial to the standing of sports in society then it might actually be on the table.
Perfect. Just perfect. Dare I even say, the most perfect of all the commemorative fabrics sewn onto sports jerseys in fond memory of the legends that have left us behind en route to a better place? It's not necessarily a knock on its competition, but - in terms of both creativity and cultural significance - Tom Benson's iconic likeness is exponentially easier on the eyes than those I can even remember seeing over the years. I want to again make it clear that it's not a contest, as "which late, great lived on through the most aesthetically pleasing patch?" would be a super grim poll. However, if (and only if) it were, the golden silhouette of Tom Benson would be taking home a medal of a similar color. That's just a fact. The image of the patriarch of professional sports in New Orleans with his signature umbrella in twirl is just too perfect in its representation of both the city and the Saints, as Who Dat?! will never be asked of the person it memorializes who was undeniably synonymous with both. Here's to hoping this season is made as special as the contributions of the man, myth, and legend it's dedicated to, for without Tom Benson it wouldn't even be possible. Look, I know that now is a very convenient time to jump on the bandwagon. It's not every day you come across a professional golfer who is shooting to put himself in historical company as a Grand Slam winner. Therefore, I will totally accept being labeled a frontrunner for finally backing an illustrious career during the tournament in which claiming you're a Jordan Spieth fan could potentially be at its most beneficial. That said, it's also not everyday you come across a professional golfer that's plucking balls out of the roughest of rough and rocketing them into the water with no regard for the camera that's clearly on him. Therefore, I will not accept being labeled a fraud, as I have always held dear the golfers that most remind me of myself on the links. Whether it be at the PGA Championship or some podunk pitch-and-putt, any player that takes out their frustrations on inanimate objects without shame is a man (or woman) after my own heart. So here's to hoping that Jordan Spieth either wins the whole damn thing, or goes down swinging...at literally any surrounding that could unreasonably be deemed responsible for a shanked shot. A Giants Fan Proved His (Very Fragile) Fandom By Throwing Back Baker Mayfield's First TD Pass8/10/2018
I've got to tell you, as much as I too sacrifice an unhealthy amount of whatever waning mental stability I have left into sports, I really think we should all sent our well wishes to the kid that took a disproportional amount of pride in throwing back a collector's item on behalf of his football fandom in August. I know he was probably made intoxicated by approximately two dozen domestic beers and the excitement of seeing his Giants live for the first time in what feels like forever to us nut-cases that live and die with each snap. However, pounding on one's chest in a way that would make the people beating the absolute crap out of one another for bargain basement job security below say "bro, chill" while slowly backing away is a bit disturbing to say the least. Again, I'm sure I've looked vaguely similar in my stupidity at sporting events, but I'm near certain those games at least counted in the standings. We're talking about Week 1 of the preseason. Half the players he screamed in support of won't own so much as a Giants t-shirt a month from now, so maybe it would have been wiser to hold on to an asset that could at least recoup the money spent on overpriced beer and a lower bowl ticket to a meaningless NFL game. For one, there's no reason to be that outwardly defensive about an irrelevant out-of-conference team scoring on your backup defense. More importantly, acting like a complete lunatic in a half-filled stadium with an audience that's only mildly interested is going to get a lens on you, and that camera won't exactly provide forgiving lighting when you ultimately do something as stupid as tossing back the first touchdown pass (however meaningless) of a #1 pick for the entire internet to see. I already assumed he was a pretty big fan due to his presence at the first preseason game, but now I'm concerned that's literally the only thing that matters to him and I can't imagine that bodes well for anyone seated in the general vicinity of his section when the regular season actually starts. This kid might be heart attack waiting to happen if the Giants switch things up and decide to play competitive football into October this year, so maybe he should be put down until September. Sidenote: Is Baker Mayfield already the most accomplished quarterback the Browns have had since returning to Cleveland?
If we are being honest, it would be negligent not to cap off a tweet storm that stated only facts and spun an empty threat into an invocation of philanthropy with the most fitting of GIF's... Of course, we aren't being honest, as something that has absolutely nothing to do with politics is somehow, someway still being used to distract and pander to those that can't tell the difference between arguing right vs. left and right vs. wrong. Therefore, Cam Jordan's comments, as logical, genuine, and good-natured as they may be, will be seen as polarizing amongst some fans that would die for him as a player as long as it doesn't mean granting him the human right to argue for equal protection under the law as a person. I know it's probably because I am sofa-king-lib-todd-did, but I stand with Cam Jordan in thinking that the supposed loss of Saints' fans whose support is circumstantial seems like addition by subtraction to me. Personally, I see a hell a lot of value in replacing those that think of football games as patriotism pissing contests with underprivileged youths, but that's just me...and the vast majority of the people putting their health at risk to participate in said football games. It's obviously easier for me to say the following as someone who has judged Donald Trump off the entirety of his laughably checkered past and determined that he's a morally (and financially, depending on the week) bankrupt toddler. Still, I am now a bigger fan of Cam Jordan than I have ever been before, and that's saying a lot as he has always been as much of a leader in the community as he is on the field. Hopefully that helps split the difference in support made by those that are only now realizing that ownership of the athletes wasn't included in the purchase of their season ticket. Either way, the player who has not once had the integrity of his intentions questioned quite clearly doesn't care about those who take it upon themselves to speak for the troops while using them as a political prop to make their point, or their spokesperson. Seeing as they only seem to care about him when he's rushing the passer, why in the hell should he? For a refresher on one of the most disjointed deferences of blame you'll ever come across, here are the words of an overweight wide receiver regarding his time playing alongside an NFL MVP from earlier this week...
...and here is his way of "answering" to those words when the target of them asked for an in-person explanation for being retrospectively dragged through the mud in the media by hands that are only clean in the sense that they belong to a person that doesn't get them dirty in having a catch radius of someone half his size...
It's pretty evident that Kelvin Benjamin either misunderstands the concept of "talking the talk and walking the walk" or takes it far too literally, as his familiar failures to create separation were the actions of an angsty teen being approached by a disappointed dad after refusing to clean up a mess that he made. We don't know exactly what was said, of course, but the person who was left hanging wasn't the one that should have felt it necessary to go out of his way to smooth things over in the first place. To his "credit", for the first time maybe ever, it was Kelvin Benjamin that returned the favor in bailing out his former quarterback, as I can't say I have viewed the latter in a more favorable light than I do at this very moment. Due to his rocky past, I've never thought of Cam Newton as a "bigger man" in anything other than stature, but here I am on the verge of praising his maturity relative to how bratty and childish Kelvin Benjamin looked in trying to avoid the fight that he randomly decided to pick publicly for no apparent reason. You probably shouldn't consider Cam Newton to be an extremely prolific passer, nor should you consider him to be an incredibly accountable leader. I know I certainly don't. That said, you'd simply be flat out wrong in not viewing him as both the superior and more dedicated player in an interaction that he didn't even instigate. There's only so much that can be taken from the body language of a confrontation, but the conclusions I drew confirmed my suspicions. Kelvin Benjamin has all of the nerve, none of the shame, and the moral low ground as both a complete coward and a significantly worse teammate. For all the negativity that Cam Newton has brought on himself with his propensity to say stupid shit, he was very much the man in trying to hash things out with a bitchy little boy. If I ruthlessly ripped someone who was nothing but complimentary of me in my past unprovoked then I suppose I'd want to "move on" as quick as possible too, but that doesn't make Kelvin Benjamin's attempt at doing so any less disingenuous. It does, however, follow in line with his refusal to take any sort of responsibility for his own underwhelming actions.
Golf.com- Thomas Fleetwood, 58, of Clermont, Fla., spotted an odd notification on his Wells Fargo bank account Friday night.
As a PGA teaching pro and a caddie at Streamsong Resort, he’s not exactly in the business of wiring funds. On Saturday morning, that notification had six figures attached to it. Thomas’s checking account was $154,480 richer. That’s a stunning sum for most Tom Fleetwoods out there (there are more than you’d think), but it’s no big deal for the 11th-ranked player in the world, better known as Tommy, who tied for 12th at the British Open just 17 days ago. The mix-up occurred because of a “clerical” error by the European tour , according to Tommy’s wife and manager, Clare. Via e-mail she explained that the tour had apologized and that “apparently the payments were made manually, not on automated system and there are two TF’s somehow?” Some of the accounting confusion stemmed from the fact that Thomas was also a pretty decent stick in his day, if not of the world-class variety. “Back in ’89 I played a tournament, I can’t remember if it was the European or Challenge tour,” Thomas said. “It was the Lyon Open in France, but [the European tour] have my information from trying to get on their senior tour.” Though Thomas was unable to carve out a place with the Staysure Tour, his bank information did, which is why it isn’t all too surprising that, when manually entered, a mistake between two Tom Fleetwoods could be made. An honest mistake, to be sure, but a six-figure mistake nonetheless, and a mistake that was Thomas’s to correct. It’s just that banks aren’t open on Saturday…or Sunday. Fully intent on rectifying the mistake he labeled “humorous,” Thomas told some friends about it. It got his mother all excited. Over the weekend it was funny for him just to think about, or to glance at his Wells Fargo mobile app. He’d take care of redirecting the funds during the week. As is the life of a teaching pro and caddie, Thomas was too busy to make a bank trip Monday. Tuesday was his day off and he simply forgot to visit the bank, adding a bit of context to his “meh” comment. Only on Wednesday morning did he receive a reminder via an ominous email from the tour. “It just said, ‘Wrong deposit, please send it back. Here’s the information to send it back,’” Thomas said. “I emailed them back and I said, ‘Well, I plan on sending it back, but you’ve got to excuse me that I’m not going to send it to this thing you’re sending me randomly in email. But it will be sent back.” Thomas went to work Wednesday, drove over to his local Wells Fargo on the way home, and asked for the funds to be redirected. Just like that his bank account was back to normal. “I’m poor again,” he said laughing. His duty was simple, and as of 5 p.m., it was done. It just wasn’t completely settled. Soon enough, he saw his name on golf websites, and he saw that Tommy had no idea his money went elsewhere. Not until early evening was he finally able to contact Tommy’s team. ----------- It's easy to find this story humorous, as it's objectively funny that an operation as big as The British Open made the type of mistake you'd expect from a sloppy college kid haphazardly using Venmo but instead with approximately 11,000 drunk pizzas worth of money at stake. It appears both Tommy Fleetwood's took this screw-up in stride, so the fact that it was made in the first place is laughable, as all is well that ends well. That being said, the wrong Tommy Fleetwood is a better man than I, for I would be absolutely irate if this happened to me. Never mind how many years would have been taken off my life by the rollercoaster my heart would looped through upon open seeing a six-figure notification pop up on my phone, because that pales in comparison to the amount of years taken off my life by having to make a goddamn trip to the bank to account for someone else's stupidity. You're telling me that not only did the wrong Tommy Fleetwood have to give back over $154,000, but he had to inconvenience himself in the process? I'll tell ya, if I don't read about some type of sizable reward coming his way soon than I'll be left with even less hope for humanity than the wrong Tommy Fleetwood has currently been left compensation for his time and effort. We've got one wealthy entity frivolously tossing around a stupid sum of money and another wealthy entity being too well-off to have any idea it went missing in the first place, and the 58 year old man of humble means is the one that has to run around breaking his back to make things right? I wish The European Tour would step to me asking to redirect the funds they flung around all willy nilly, just so I could tell them to redirect their goddamn attitude. They are lucky they messed with the right wrong Tommy Fleetwood, for a less understanding Tommy Fleetwood (with a loose understanding of both paper trails and the law) might have gone off the grid and become fleet of foot in trying to make them earn back every penny of their idiotic mistake.
First and foremost, a quick shoutout has to go to the Arizona Diamondbacks. Nothing pays homage to those participating in the Little League World Series quite like making those participating in the Little League World Series appear more fundamentally sound than Major Leaguers. So good on them for making pre-teens look like actual professionals by haphazardly flinging a ball that was intentionally hit as close to home as possible around the diamond like it had cooties. I'd imagine that the memory of seeing their role models give away unearned runs will really give those that will be left crying in the dugout a reason to wipe their tears. Now, the Arizona infield may have made complete asses of themselves with defense that was offensive in every sense of the work, but there's nothing like a timely reminder that it could always be worse. With that in mind, at least they can find peace in not being this guy...
In fairness, it's a rarity that you find a fan that's able to restrain himself from interfering with a play that's headed in his direction, but it would simply be disrespectful to the memory of the latest and greatest of fictional baseball Managers if we failed to mention his most notable piece of advice at a time like this... I mean, that "ole' bullshit" stunk to such a high heaven that the soul of Lou Brown probably caught an unmistakable whiff of it, swallowed down another pack of cigarettes, and started coarsely cursing from his cloud. I'm not saying that kid was totally complicit in letting some innocent lady take one off the chin, but how is Roger Dorn's protege expect to find himself anywhere but the stands if he doesn't instinctually get in front of the damn ball? BleacherReport- The next day was technically Kamara’s off day, but he spent the majority of his day at Athletix to work out, hit the field for speed training and receive treatment. We return to the same metal chairs outside Smoothie King after he finishes.
As he sips on his strawberry Hulk, Kamara wonders if he would've gone higher in the draft had he changed his appearance. Selected as the fifth running back off the board—behind Leonard Fournette, Christian McCaffrey, Dalvin Cook and Joe Mixon, who was captured on video punching a woman in the head in 2014—Kamara says there were NFL scouts and executives during the draft process who told him to cut his hair and take his nose ring out, including one NFL executive explaining how a team’s head coach wouldn’t approve of his look. "I might have [gone higher]," Kamara says. "But if I wasn't myself, I wouldn't have been as successful this year." ---------- If we are being honest, there's probably a more impactful point to be made about (mostly white) NFL executives trying to play God in turning (mostly black) kids who are often only as gifted as they are otherwise underprivileged into prim and proper foot soldiers that fit their preconceived notion of professionalism in a sport that's basically just organized barbarianism. I mean, it's not a point that I personally want to spend too much time exploring, as I'm really looking forward to the fun that comes as a result of football season. Not that I'm subjectively blind enough to think I'm witnessing the most wholesome of product, but doing a deep dive into how unqualified those who make a living during it are in dissecting every fiber of 20-22 year old beings when they can't even see past the stupidity of stereotypes doesn't exactly stand to supplement the solace of my Sundays. Still, that point is definitely out there to be fully examined, it's just better left to someone both smarter and less of an accurate generalization than myself. Therefore, I won't get all philosophical in trying to figure out how some teams noticed a nose ring but all teams (including the one he's currently on) repeatedly missed the elusiveness, versatility, and humility of the transcendent talent whose septum it pierced. Instead I'll just appreciate how well staying true to his eccentric self worked out for both Alvin Kamara and the perfect fit of a franchise that sprung into action to break a fall down the draft board that seems laughable in retrospect. I couldn't tell you whether or not his golden grill truly charred his chances of getting taken prior to the 67th pick, but I can tell you that the team that came to own that 67th pick resides in the one city that not only embraces those that venture from the beaten path, but also encourages them to do so. I don't know if everything happens really does happen for a reason, but there was a reason that the eventual Rookie Of The Year didn't go full-Steve Urkel to satisfy a couple regressively repressed scouting departments. I'd imagine it's the same exact reason why New Orleans almost immediately took such a shine to every damn dreaded lock poking out from beneath his helmet. Alvin Kamara is unapologetically himself, and while it's impossible to know if that made his wait even two minutes longer last April, it's the authenticity of his unique style and personality in conjunction with a skill set that Sean Payton (wet) dreams of that has unquestionably made it all the more worth it. ICYMI: This happened during the series between the Fargo-Moorhead RedHawks and Chicago Dogs on Monday...
Annnnnd Tuesday...
I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that this one-upmanship of prop-aided conniptions from grown men on opposing teams is one borderline-to-bad call away from carrying on into tonight's series finale. The bad news, of course, is that tonight is the series finale. Seriously, as anxious as the umpires must be for this three game set to end is exactly how much everyone that had no idea who these two teams were before it started wishes for it to continue on infinitely. After utilizing both a trash can and third base, I can't imagine where they'll turn next in their search for inanimate objects with which to project their anger, but I am already disappointed that it's hours away from reaching its conclusion. Maybe it's better this way, as it would have become very awkward if they were to run out of creative ways in which to use their surroundings to disrespect officials, but I'm going to need a little time before looking back on this with a "don't emasculate an umpire because it's over, smile because it happened" mindset. Part three might soften the blow if it fails to live up to a maniacal Manager giving away equipment that is vital to the playing of the game while said game is still taking place, but if there are two teams that can wrap this trilogy of tantrums up on a tumultuous note then it's the Fargo-Moorhead RedHawks and the Chicago Dogs. May their early August mutiny against underpaid authority figures and all things that could possibly inconvenience them live on in Independent Baseball League lore. Sidenote: With the small amount of fans these teams must draw, wouldn't they have been better off slapping down a parking cone at the hot corner as opposed to taking back the rarest of souvenirs from a lucky kid? |
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