Must watch: --------- You know, in retrospect it seems silly that I never really considered that the NFL was trying to strong arm Sean Payton out of his job for good by making an example out of the New Orleans Saints instead of looking in the mirror in regards to the player safety agenda they still stumble over their own feet in trying to push. Looking back on it, it seems pretty obvious that by giving him an unprecedented penalty (for a practice that was common, albeit unspoken) that forced him entirely out of an insanely demanding job in which the small amount of security barely allows for a week's vacation, never mind a year long shunning, was meant to get him ousted to the unemployment line. Of course, this new tidbit that two unnamed owners basically let Tom Benson in on the league's intention when a sentence got handed down makes that an indisputable fact, but - after seeing how the NFL has handled just about every controversy since - the lines don't seem as though they should have been all that difficult to read between. The NFL couldn't flat out fire Sean Payton, but if it was their heavy-handedness that was ultimately responsible for getting him canned then they'd forever have his disgraced dismissal to point to as proof of just how deeply they care (about looking as though they actually care) about the well-being of players. I'd never use the word "genius" to describe Roger Goodell & Co., but in being one step ahead in their thinking they were actually two steps ahead of how far most people deem them capable of thinking. Unfortunately, they chose the wrong target. A head coach that were even slightly less than psychotically competitive might have been broken by being blamed for BountyGate, and I know that because even the most psychotically competitive of head coach was noticeably bent by it. Which was the cause and which was the effect is a little hard to differentiate when looking at the relatively dispirited of demeanor that Sean Payton had on the sidelines through three straight 7-9 seasons, but you won't find too many Saints' fans that didn't think 2012 threw a wet blanket on the fire burning inside him. As the result of some combination of "time heals all" and "winning cures all", that fire is now as blazing as it's ever been, but a suspension that lasts the NFL equivalent of an eternity isn't served in a vacuum. The extent of it is uncertain, but there was a hangover of sorts that...well...hung over both the Saints and Sean Payton after the wasted year in which they weren't granted the opportunity to build on the championship run that got away in 2011. Granted, they were a playoff team again in 2013, but that seems like an aberration given the three year purgatory of the rebuild that followed. I can't speak for Sean Payton when it comes to why he chose now to be so open about the time he had his livelihood unceremoniously stripped from him, but considering that he's two weeks removed from randomly seeming friendly with the man with which he fairly recently held an obvious grudge (Gregg Williams), it leads you to believe that he's finally been able to put the past in the past. A head coach of lesser conviction probably couldn't have done so, as Sean Payton's commitment to continuing his career in New Orleans is, in conjunction with the loyalty of the late Tom Benson, likely the main reason why the NFL's true objective of getting him axed by New Orleans mostly remained a mystery until right now.
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Say what you want about forcing professional athletes to go play outside during their free time like they are overweight children, but you've got to admit that nothing proves that the Canucks know how to best connect with their young, tech-savvy players like using the name of one popular game to refer to video game systems as a whole. Banning 'Fortnite', and every other interactive experience that apparently falls under its umbrella, does seem a wee bit extreme, but it's important that sports' franchises limit distractions on the road. Personally, I can't think of a better way to do just that than by forcing a bunch of well-off 20-something year old hockey players to spend all their quality time together out on the town exploring destination cities, as opposed to holed up in the rooms in which they'll sleep. Addiction is a serious issue, and - if we've learned one thing from the rare case of one single unnamed prospect who prioritized handling the wrong kind of sticks - it's that it obviously more likely to rear it's ugly head through gaming than galavanting. The Vancouver Canucks might seem like it's an organization run by out-of-touch idiots that treat the allure of the video games they've never cared to play like more of a drug than actual drugs. However, I'll be damned if they aren't doing their best in controlling the damage done by friendly competition by severely limiting the ways in which their players can bond in controlled environments during their down time! Anything to create cohesive culture that's conducive to winning...or something like that...
Preseason baby, can you feel the excitement?!? It's a new season, and though the games don't count for a damn thing yet, it's almost as of the players can't even think straight due to their anxiousness to run back out on the hardwood and go through the motions of largely meaningless basketball! I mean, what other reason could Malik Monk possibly have for forgetting to put on his uniform than the unadulterated elation that proceeds a professional athlete's participation in a glorified scrimmage? What's that you say? Sheer apathy? A lack of motivation resulting in laughable preparation? A clear indifference to being ready to get some largely irrelevant run? Nope, that doesn't sound right. Not in my NBA are there players who can't possibly care enough to remember to properly dress themselves until the wins and losses have consequences. Malik Monk was just too amped to get some preseason action, just like everyone of his peers that have argued on behalf of shortening the regular season.
To both the Rockies and those whose interests align with the integrity of the game, the Cubs grounding out to first to end an extra inning in which a runner was advanced safely into game-sealing scoring position by a warm embrace served as the aversion of a crisis. To someone like me, who is constantly looking for egregious examples that might strengthen my case that a one game playoff is an asininely small sample size in which to decide who deserves to advance following a rigorous 162 (in the Cubs' rare case, 163) game schedule, it feels like a missed opportunity. This morning we are talking about an objectively exciting game that proved capable of sucking casual fans into ruining their Wednesdays by staying awake well past Tuesday. A game in which the "right" team won without controversy. A game that was undeniably good for Major League Baseball. That said, with one more seeing eye single, we could just as easily be talking about how the largely hypothetical hindrance of one hug and the judgement call that soon followed potentially ruined all that one team had worked tirelessly for throughout the last six straight months. For what that would have done in tainting the outcome of a one game playoff, it would have at least brought full attention to how moronic it is for a one game playoff to exist in a temperamental sport that...wait for it...embraces its high level of human error. To be clear, I think Nolan Arenado cost Colorado the ability to argue that a double play that would have ended the bottom of the 11th inning was a legitimate possibility when he leaned right into that hug and even threw in a little pat on the back for good measure. He seemed perfectly content, if not overly affectionate, in tagging out Javy Baez and tossing the ball back to his pitcher with two down. For that reason, I don't think an ensuing walk-off would have been some crime against conventional wisdom. But man, oh man, you can bet your sweet ass that we'd be trying to pinpoint exactly how problematic a base-path PDA was in deciding the entirety of one team's postseason fate if it were immediately followed by their season ending abruptly in the extra innings. I highly doubt the MLB will ever see the error in their stubborn ways, but if they were to then it would more than likely take a circumstance that chaotic creating an unavoidable controversy. Credit to the Colorado Rockies as they earned their advancement, but we were one perfectly timed swing of a bat held by a Chicago Cub away from the type of mayhem that can inspire modifications to a puzzling playoff format. Cuts: Definitely the most intriguing aspect of the docuseries thus far. I don't want to say it was "cool" that they highlighted three players in three very different positions as they received varying degrees of devastating news, but it was definitely interesting to see how they handled difficult conversations with Blake Speers, Kurtis Gabriel, and Ty Smith. If we are being honest, I found it concerning how complimentary they were of the goon in that group, as his most notably moment of the preseason was making an ass of himself against the Islanders. I sincerely hope they were just trying to soften the message so as to avoid owning the faces that Kurtis Gabriel might next try to punch unprovoked, as the idea of that guy sniffing the Devils lineup for even a single game makes me cringe as much as almost every one of his on-screen appearances. I think most people saw Blake Speers as a fringe roster fill-in unless his offense really stood out in camp, so it wasn't a surprise to hear John Hynes harp on him putting more of a focus into making a bigger impact at that end of the ice. As for Ty Smith, he predictably seemed like a cut that was just as difficult on a coaching staff that knows they already miss his skill-set as it was on a talented young prospect that will definitely benefit from some defensive seasoning. If he was being judged on how good he currently is, as opposed to how great he can be if put into a better position to succeed in the future then we're almost definitely not talking about him being sent back to Spokane. Taylor Hall: ...loves New Jersey. That's not really newsworthy as much as it's just fun to type, since I definitely couldn't have definitively done so a year ago. It was very video brochure-ish to hear him talk to an off-screen interviewer bout the positive aspects of his relatively new home while walking along the waterfront. Though I suppose it's better than him doing so while standing knee deep in the swamps of the Meadowlands or trying to talk over the explicit sounds of Newark "nightlife" while trudging through the Ironbound.
Miles Wood:
I don't think there's a player on the Devils' roster more fit for the lighthearted locker room ribbing that comes as the result of a holdout than Miles Wood. Not that anyone would have taken umbrage with a teammate doing what was necessary to secure his future financially, but I'd imagine there's something about being greeted by the 1,000 watt smile on that goofy son of a gun that has everyone getting the jokes going a bit quicker. Brian Boyle: While I don't think there's all that much left to say about it, I'm not going to be the one to skip past the feel good story of the cancer survivor on the roster. There was no real way to address it from a new angle, as it's almost impossible to be a hockey fan that isn't aware of all Brian Boyle persevered through last season. However, if there's a Devils-related story that deserves to be told one too many times it's that of a veteran leader that made the most disturbing of diagnosis seem like a minor speed bump in getting back to making a difference on the ice. Can't imagine how much of a relief it must be for him to experience his first complication-free training camp as a member of the Devils. Nico Hischier: I don't think I'll ever get over how reserved, soft-spoken, and humble Nico Hischier is for a kid who almost immediately proved worthy of his lofty draft status last season. I find his slightly awkward personality endearing as is, but it also feels like he might just randomly show up one season with his voice having grown deeper after discovering himself as a cocksure superstar and a highly respected presence in a locker room of which he's still currently the baby. The next episode should be interesting as it seems as though Nico is adorably uncomfortable being the center of attention, which is exactly what he was (and more) as the pride of Switzerland in his return home.
First and foremost, fuck the internet and it's inability to leave well enough alone. There was nothing more well enough than the perfect two-second encapsulation of Kobe Bryant's indomitable desire to do nothing more than defecate all over the will of every opponent that crossed his path. The fact that we're now questioning the legitimacy of that clip by way of the most egregious case of what's become social media's most obnoxious habit - the "well, actually..." - more than eight years after the fact is as belated and unnecessary as it is a huge stretch. Admittedly, the above angle does take some of shine off what was a glowing example of the serpent-like cold-bloodedness of the Black Mamba. The infamous GIF makes it seems as though Kobe Bryant refused to so much as react when eskimo-kissed by the Spalding that was relentless in coming onto him with the quickness, and apparently that's not the whole truth. That said, it's definitely not entirely false. If you're ready to denounce Kobe Bryant's casually stoic non-reaction to having a basketball thrust full force within a couple centimeters of his face just because said face was slightly off-center at the time then you have a half-witted understanding of human instincts. The average asshole would be sitting on his if any projectile came that close to contact, so let's slow down in acting as if our sports' worlds were just shattered by a small variance in vantage point. Even more to the point, to believe that GIF was the solely the result of convenient camera work you'd have to believe that Matt Barnes, a player prideful enough to leave training camp and speed 95 miles to beat the piss out of the former teammate that was courting his estranged wife, has sat silently by for damn near a decade letting his entire existence get mocked by millions for a momentary misunderstanding...
Since that one instance is far from being the only time in which Kobe Bryant led us to believe he was a goddamn lunatic, I'm going to continue viewing that confrontation the same way it was always meant to be viewed, as a face-to-face failed attempt to intimidate a person who trained himself to kill the spirit of his competition. To be honest, I resent the internet for shamelessly trying to make me think otherwise.
Well, that's certainly one way to explain the logic behind the objectively counterproductive trades you've made in enabling your storied franchise's downward spiral into complete and utter irrelevance. I'd argue a response that translates loosely to "I didn't realize you were all substantially more stupid than myself" is, in fact, not the best way to endear yourself to a loud and proud fanbase that already has every right to call for your resignation. However, if Habs' fans were in search of an answer they'd be happy to hear than they should have known better than to seek it from the least reliable of source in their own General Manager. P.K. Subban straight up for Shea Weber, Mikhail Sergachev straight up for Jonathan Drouin, and Alex Galchechuk straight up for Max Domi are the furthest thing from good hockey moves, as - at their very best - they make your hockey team cumulatively worse at hockey. That said, you kind of have to admire Marc Bergevin for dressing up his stubbornness as patience in refusing to admit he's repeatedly been wrong. I don't know that time truly heals all when you've self-mutilated your promising defensive depth in front of a goalie whose top-notch talents are sure to go to waste, but I'll be damned if the Canadiens much maligned General Manager isn't going to find out by continuing to look reality right in the face and questioning where it got it's information. I can't imagine his fanbase wanted the long overdue "sorry..." he owes them to be followed by what was essentially the most condescending of "...not sorry", but at least the hands tasked with building the team remain steady in basically burning it to the ground.
Awesome. Just awesome. In so many different aspects, Nico Hischier leading his fellow countryman Mirco Mueller and the rest of the New Jersey Devils into battle against his former team of his native country in front of no shortage of fans, family, and friends from all over the map was just simply awesome to watch. To be honest, I wish I had more creative way to describe the viewing experience. Unfortunately, a resounding reception that would put most NHL crowds to shame, the type of tangible buzz that could easily be transmitted through the television whenever SC Bern or their baby-faced guest of honor ended up in a scoring position, and the novelty of two teams from opposite sides of the world giving each other an overtime game that - despite its best efforts - wasn't as cool as the totality of all that surrounded it has me feeling, and apparently illustrating, like a little kid. Tuning into New Jersey Devils' hockey as it was broadcast live from Switzerland was so cool, in fact, that I couldn't even take umbrage with the team putting their best foot backwards in being kept on their heels by an opponent of inferior talent in their last audition prior to the regular season. Given my general point of view on just about everything, that might come off as sarcasm, but the truth is that I couldn't help but genuinely enjoy the game from beginning to end, despite the visiting team's level of play leaving a lot to be desired. We'll worry about the Devils' struggles on international ice when they step on it this Saturday to face-off against the last player you'd ever want to see given even one additional inch of room to gain speed, but - if only for one night - I can forgive the careless turnovers and stupid penalties. After all, it would be pretty hypocritical of me not to with how much I also enjoyed letting my mind wander in taking in all that overseas hockey had to offer, both on the ice and in the stands. Plus, I believe I've been told in the past that all's well that ends well, and what better way to conclude the preseason than with Taylor Hall glancing longingly back towards his center (of attention) and the pride of Switzerland before debuting the trailer for Taylor Hart: The Sequel?
There were already plenty of purists that thought Yasiel Puig was the worst thing to happen to baseball since the rampant steroid use they remained blissfully ignorant of as it bolstered both the ratings and the biceps of some of biggest names in the sport. I have a hard time believing their minds will be changed by watching him peacock around the Dodgers' locker room shirtless while guaranteeing victory over nearly every prospective postseason opponent as his skin glistened of an amount of bubbly that could rival his personality with each and every gyration. I, on the other hand, actually appreciate the most insanely bombastic interview/promo you'll ever hear from a baseball player for exactly what it is, which is a genuine display of who Yasiel Puig is as a person. Painting a target on his team's back for no apparent reason might not have been the most calculated decision prior to a playoff as unpredictable as that of the MLB. However, it sure was an authentic decision from someone who, for better or worse, refuses to let the repressive culture of professional baseball turn him into some respect-fueled robot. Yasiel Puig has certainly got his flaws as a messenger. However, having hoped upon hope that baseball players would eventually break out of the shell they've been scared into by antiquated traditions and the people in charge that still overvalue them, I'm all-in on the message that it's okay to be a little brash before, during, or after successfully whacking a ball around a field. Even if it's delivered in mildly broken English by someone who's half-drunk on a heavy-handed cocktail of cockiness, confidence, and vanity with a splash or sixteen of domestic beer.
Incidental or not, the suspension that Mark Ingram just finished serving was of no fault but his own. He has no one to blame but himself for the four games he potentially compromised by way of his unavailability during the start of a season that had all the makings of being one of the most special in Saints' history. I have nowhere near enough faith in the NFL, their testing policies, or their priorities to consider Mark Ingram selfish for whatever illegal substance he happened to let in his system, but he certainly wasn't selfless in being at least mildly irresponsible with regards to what he put in his body and/or when he did so. I say all that not to trash a guy whose presence was sorely missed in a rushing attack that only yesterday finally managed to get things going on the ground, but rather to highlight just how beloved that presence is amongst a team that appears absolutely amped that he's back. Doesn't seem to be even one hard feeling within a group whose jobs were made more difficult by the lack of the type of back who can give a struggling defense a breather, as there's nothing but a soft spot for Mark Ingram inside a locker room in which he's undeniably become a leader...
Of all the players that have been scapegoated by the fanbase during the Sean Payton era, Mark Ingram might be the player who was most often served the nuttiest dose of undeserved shit. When you think about how many wildly overpaid defensive additions have churned out performances that were both literally and figuratively defenseless throughout the years, that's certainly saying something. I say that not to bring up bad memories, but rather to highlight exactly how far Mark Ingram has come by running off the stink in the process of winning over the entirety of the Who Dat Nation. It is now absolutely indisputable how important he is to both the Saints' recent success, as well the cohesive culture that's equal parts the cause and the effect of it. Regardless of why he was out in first place, a team that somewhat miraculously managed to go 3-1 without him knows exactly how much better off they are with him. Both on and off the field, Mark Ingram is a vital piece to the championship caliber puzzle, as - for the most part - it was painfully obvious it wasn't quite close to being complete in his absence. There are probably a couple players whose physical impact is bigger than that of one of the many offensive weapons at the Saints' disposable, but I'd contend that there aren't nearly as many whose emotional impact looms as large. I suspect his season debut in the Dome for 'Monday Night Football' will put that full array of contributions on display, as he spent the preseason running like he was motivated to put out the fire that looked to be burning under his ass.
Excuse my french, but - in case putting two and two together is too much math for you - what I am saying is that the Seattle Seahawks fucked Earl Thomas. The explicit gesture he held up towards the sideline he's spent so much time roaming as a transcendent talent on the dominant defense of a Super Bowl champion/contender? A fitting response given how he was treated by the franchise that refused to do right by him when they were quite obviously headed in the wrong direction. Unprofessional? Perhaps, but Pete Carroll and Co. basically spent the entire summer flipping off Earl Thomas with how infantile they were in dragging their feet when it came to trading a star player they had no intentions of paying past what was sure to be a complete waste of a season. Now, some might not see it that way, as a shockingly large percentage of fans tend to side with management instead of those who put their physical and mental well-being on the line for their entertainment, as well as non-guaranteed paychecks that pale in comparison to the profits collected by NFL organizations. However, what can't be denied is that all Earl Thomas did by finally showing up and honoring his contract was cost himself millions upon millions of the future financial security that the franchise he gave his body to refused to give him. Of course, I'm not naive enough to think that even the worst case scenario playing itself out in front of a sports' world that's stuck in it's own ways is enough to sway everyone's opinion on Le'Veon Bell's holdout, but I'll be damned if it shouldn't be. For the injury suffered by a 29 year old stud safety whose days in which to be compensated as such were already numbered was absolutely not a case of "bad timing" as much as it was a case of stubbornness, selfishness, and stupidity by a bad team that cost themselves a good asset by wasting the work of a star player while hopelessly waiting for a great one to be offered to them. I understand that the NFL is a cutthroat business, but that's not a good excuse, as running the risk of playing Earl Thomas onto the IR ahead of free agency was undeniably bad for business...
When you're considered to be one of the preseason favorites in your conference and appear to have a relatively easy (not that anything ever comes easy in the NFL) schedule to start your season, you'd prefer it not take until the conclusion of the first quarter of said schedule to be able to pencil in a 'W' before the clock strikes zero. Obviously that hasn't been the case for a Saints' team that, in a lot of ways, was 2-1 despite itself, but it sure felt good to experience a win that had quite a bit in common with the casual 49 yard scamper that put an exclamation point on 3-1...
Just as Alvin Kamara never really pulled all that far ahead of the trail of defenders in his wake, it was also all but an inevitability that he was going to run both himself and his team off the field with a comfortable margin of victory. The Saints certainly didn't play a perfect brand of football, as evidenced by the drop-induced field goal fest that was the first half, but they consistently played a step ahead of an opponent that never really seemed capable of catching up. I wouldn't consider yesterday a sign that New Orleans is hitting its stride, as they still made a bunch of inexcusable mistakes. However, I would consider the fact that they put up 33 points during a "meh" offensive performance to be a reminder of exactly how dangerous they can be when they do play complimentary football. The Giants are to scoring 30+ points what the Saints are to pitching a shutout, so Eli Manning and his extremely offensive line are more likely to instill a defense with false confidence than they are to truly help one measure it's effectiveness. That said, with what the likes of Calvin Ridley and Co. were able to do in past weeks, it was still encouraging to see the Saints collect some sacks while making modest the All-World talents of Saquon Barkley and Odell Beckham. I consider every year it's own distinct entity in a sport as fickle as professional football. However, with regions of the Who Dat Nation having comforted themselves during yet another slow start by referencing last season's quick turnaround, it bears mentioning that yesterday's effort had some similarities with last year's Week 3 win over the Panthers. Of course, statistically speaking, that road victory was much more desperately needed, but it was also just as dominant as it was flawed. If the Saints can even mildly mimic the success they had in building off this like they did that then great things could be in store for a group that still hasn't proved it's any better than pretty good at this point. -------- Notes: - I'll never understand how Alvin Kamara makes what should be physically impossible feats seem so easy. On his first and third touchdown runs he had the look of someone that was taking a leisurely jog in the park, and on the second he basically defied gravity in keeping his knee off the ground. With Mark Ingram's suspension coming to an end, it's almost scary to think what he might be capable of going against defenses that are made even a half step slower by the amount of options in the Saints' backfield. Though, I'd imagine it's probably something a little like his historically efficient ROTY campaign...
- I don't know how a team that stumbles upon otherworldly offensive talent on an annual basis still can't manage to find themselves someone to safely secure a punt/kick, but it's going to unnecessarily cost them a game sooner rather than later if they don't. For as well in hand as it seemed, that game could very easily been yesterday if not for a fortunate bounce or three...
- Taysom Hill is simply a game-changer. I don't just say that as an empty compliment of a versatile player, but rather as a factual acknowledgment that he has now made a massive impact at a crucial time in two straight games. With the way the Giants moved the ball on their opening drive, who knows how things could have turned out if it was given back to them on a second straight 3-and-out. Sean Payton feeling confident enough one him to call a fairly contested fake on 4th down speaks volumes, never mind him proving that decision to be the right one with a perfect throw on the run.
- Demario Davis looks like a 5th defensive lineman out there whenever they let him loose on the blitz. He's starting to prove as advertised in other aspects of his game, but he's offered a boost to a pass-rush that's getting incrementally better as the season wears on.
- Since Week 1, Marshon Lattimore's name has been heard with a lot less regularity, and silence is what you want out of a kid who can shut up some of the best playmakers in the sport when he's at his best. - Not related to the actual game or anything, but it was cool to Teddy Bridgewater getting a closer look at his future offense. It can be easy to forget that another starting caliber quarterback is on the roster when Drew Brees is cooking and Taysom Hill is doing all that Taysom Hill does, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Sean Payton is slowly simmering the perfect reminder.
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