Straight Off The Script And On To The Scoresheet, Brian Boyle Netted A Pretty Goal On 'Hockey Fights Cancer' Night
As if it were written. I don't want to make it sound like Brian Boyle's goal on 'Hockey Fights Cancer' night was just the culmination of some dramatically captivating plot line, because that would discredit the seemingly disastrous set of circumstances he had to overcome - in an insanely short time - to make it happen. Still, I'll be damned if it didn't feel like Will Butcher played the role of 'Best Supporting Actor' to Brian Boyle's lead in an inspiring, award winning scene.
Perhaps we shouldn't have expected anything less than a feel-good moment from someone who appeared to best cancer with a refusal to (publicly) feel anything but good as he stayed in the moment. However, maybe his contribution not being all that surprising is yet another reason why it tugged on so many heartstrings. Due to nothing more than his hard work and persistence, Brian Boyle now steps on the ice as a valued member of the New Jersey Devils first and a cancer survivor second. It was incredibly uplifting to watch his worlds collide on an occasion that was so meaningful to so many people, but - with how emotionally exhausting last night must have been for him - let's hope the divide between them continues to get bigger as his health stays better...
As for the man who assisted on the goal that was worth so much more than just a number on a scoreboard, I'm not sure enough can be said about Will Butcher's recent performance. Considering the dire straights of the Devils' defense, fans desperately had unrealistic expectations for a 22 year rookie. Yet somewhat unbelievably, he's managed to surpass them. That slippery move through the defense was Scott Niedermayer-esque, and I only use that exaggerated example due to the lack of fair comparisons that exist in franchise history. The Devils have been looking for a trusted puck mover on the back end since the departure of Brian Rafalski, and they now have one that feels comfortable doing so with it on his stick just 20-something games into his career. The bumps and bruises are sure to come since Will Butcher still has a lot of growing and maturing to do in his own zone, but he's taken the opportunity to give New Jersey a dynamic they haven't had in a goddamn decade and ran with it. His confidence can only grow from here, as impossible as that seems after watching some of the plays he's made over the last week.
If you're wondering what else it's going to take for the Devils to overcome their injuries and maintain their light grasp on a playoff spot then look no further than Stefan Noesen's efforts to seal the victory. That wasn't just the work of a guy that knew he damn well better block some shots and clear the zone after missing a wide open empty net. It was the work of a guy that knows what he has to bring to the table in order to stay in the lineup. It took the Winnipeg Jets about 5 minutes to remind this team of how much worse they look when lackadaisical, and - outside of a stinker of a first period against Minnesota - they have played some of their best hockey since. The hustle of everyone - including guys who haven't let a benching or a scratching affect their attitude - is instrumental to their success going forward, just as it was in giving Brian Boyle - and everyone in attendance - a hell of a sentimental nightcap.
What is this, a sick joke? Some sort of impossible to pass test of my gratitude on the eve of which I'm supposed to give the most thanks? I have an unquantifiable amount of booze and enough turkey to put a cokehead into a coma on tap, and I have to sit here worrying about how I am going to cloak my concern and act appreciative in front of the judgmental eyes of my loved ones? I'll say it now because it's super frowned upon to do so in approximately 24 hours...life ain't fair and Kyle Palmieri's upcoming 4-6 week absence from the lineup is proof that not even a second helping of mashed potatoes should make me feel indebted to it.
For all that has gone right in getting a young, upstart New Jersey Devils team to the top of the best division in hockey, the one thing that has managed to dampen the mood is the on again/off again health of easily their best forward not named Taylor Hall. After looking like some genetically enhanced version of himself throughout the preseason, injuries have put Kyle Palmieri on ice in a way that bodes far less beneficial for the power play.
In the spirit of the season, thankfully Marcus Johansson should be returning sooner rather than later and the team's three biggest surprises (Bratt, Gibbons, and Stafford) are all capable of filling in on the right side. That said, the loss of someone that has developed into a formidable first line player unquestionably hurts a roster that looks a hell of a less deep when it's not at full strength....
It's a long season and players are going to get banged up, but - as weird as this is to say about a team that is somewhat miraculously still in first place - the Devils are going to have to put a much better foot forward while a particularly important one heals up. Especially if they want Kyle Palmieri's return to spark some life into a (and I truly can't believe I'm saying this) potential postseason push.
If there is one thing that most Saints' fans know to be true, it's that Mark Ingram has always gotten a bad rap in New Orleans. I'm not particularly sure why he's continued to be the most polarizing pusher of piles throughout Sean Payton's tenure, but I can't remember a time - prior to this season - where the doubt in his ability wasn't disproportional to his performance. Maybe that has something to do with people expecting the second coming of Deuce McAllister when the Saints moved up in the first round to select him. Maybe a failure to realize his steady improvement since his rookie season is a product of playing in a pass-happy offense that's found itself playing from behind a depressing amount of times the last few seasons. Whatever the case may be, he hasn't gotten the credit he deserves for remaining the leader of a position group that always been run by committee.
That is, until now. Not only is Mark Ingram merely 80 yards behind the league's leading rusher, but he's managed to reach that mark while splitting carries after literally running a first ballot HOFer out of town. Playing from ahead while behind a dominant offensive line has surely aided the consummate professional in defying conventional wisdom by having his best season seven years into his career, but - if the win over Washington is any indication - then not even play-calling and circumstance can tame his numbers. 'NFC Offensive Player of the Week' as someone that needed a dominant overtime drove to reach double digits in carries. Started the game with 36 yard touchdown scamper, and all-but-ended the game with back-to-back backbreaking runs that totaled 51 yards. By product of design he was largely invisible in between and he still was able to total over 150 all purpose yards and stamp his imprint on the Saints' 8th straight win.
The attention will go to Ingram and Kamara as a duo since they are on pace to reach historical heights as such, but - while we are singing the latter's praises as the favorite to win 'Offensive Rookie Of The Year' - let's not forget to give credit to the former. He's been withheld it for far too long, and - more importantly - by being atop the NFL in rushing touchdowns and leading running backs with over 100 carries in yards per he has made it impossible to deny him of it.
Right, DeAngelo Hall?
Drew Brees Took A Second To Slap '5' With A Young Fan Before Putting The Finishing Touches On The Redskins
Obviously this is more so a look into Drew Brees the person than it is Drew Brees the player. Him interrupting what was a busy afternoon - at its most crucial point - to show appreciation for a young fan just goes to show how highly he values the role he's been entrusted in as a professional athlete. There's truly no one better representative for the Saints organization or the City of New Orleans, and it's nothing short of awesome to watch his faith in both finally pay off on the field again.
That being said, how about the swag in that strut?! How about him casually cocking the throwing arm as if to tell the Redskins that he wasn't just giving a young girl a moment she'll never forget, but also giving them just one extra second to accept their inevitable fate? All Drew Brees had to do was turn around and hand the ball off to the monster that has become Mark Ingram in overtime, but best believe he would have only added to the flawless stat line (11/11, 164 yards, 2 touchdowns) he casually posted in slinging the Saints even if he had to. The pre-play slapping of '5' is a move used by only the most confident of athletes. Drew Brees was just that in orchestrating 18 unanswered, that should silence any of the naysayers that think his numbers being down has to do with anything other than him finally being the best player on a complete team.
A Milwaukee Brewery Gave Away Free Beer Until The Packers Scored On Sunday (The Packers Didn't Score On Sunday)
TMJ4- Packers fans at one Milwaukee-area brewery didn't have to pay for a single beer Sunday during the game after the team was shut out by the Ravens.
The Bavarian Bierhaus restaurant and brewery offers a special during Packers games: free beer until the green and gold scores.
On Sunday, that backfired as the Packers lost to the Ravens 23-0 and fans were able to drink for free the entire game.
General Manager Scott Bell says around 200 people were packed into his establishment during the game, and he and his staff served between 275-300 cups of free beer. Some fans had more than others.
"Wisconsinites and Packers fans are at least somewhat responsible," Bell said.
Bell has no intentions of discontinuing the promotion, saying he believes the green and gold will get things rolling.
I'm calling shenanigans here. I don't know what aspect of the truth is being egregiously stretched here, but I'm more likely to believe that 275-300 pounds of cheese curds were ingested as Green Bay got railroaded than I am to believe that 200 Wisconsinites sat at a goddamn brewery and - on average - drank about a beer and half per person while watching their playoff hopes slowly die without a single point for 3.5 hours.
I want to see the fine print and I want to see it now, because if this promise of free booze is as it appears then the Bavarian and its Bier would be out of haus and home. I respect a good old fashioned Sunday special, but not when there are bunch of unspoken disclaimers and qualifiers attached. Where is the "when Aaron Rodgers is under center" asterisk? Are we going to pretend there's no "null and void after the first quarter" clause?
I don't know much about Milwaukee, but I know the fine folks that share a home with the Brewers love their beer in abundance, and that tends to disappear faster when it's unpaid for. So Scott Bell is either protecting himself from false advertising and over-serving or he's protecting his clientele from being labeled the type of binge drinker that any red blooded American would become if sentenced to a scoreless, bottomless afternoon that likely signaled the inevitably premature end of a promising season. I'd hope it's the latter so that those who were forced to watch Brent Hundley play quarterback all afternoon didn't somehow end up even more disappointed than necessary after kickoff.
Did you think that the pissing match taking place between the outspoken, self-indulgent father of an NBA rookie whose jump shot undoubtedly made James Naismith's roll out of a peaceful eternal rest and the reality TV star turned President of the United States was the peak of American stupidity?
Well, I've got good (...or bad, depending on your view of dark humor) news for you! It appears the streams have crossed and the person absorbing the collateral splash-back is none other than the former host of 'Reading Rainbow'. Yup, the man that abused the helping hand of a catchy theme song in an effort to teach 80's babies that reading is - in fact - fun is getting dragged through these internet streets by some of MAGA's finest due to having a similar first name and the same last initial as another African American male.
I'd say those that can't tell the difference between LaVar Ball and LeVar Burton are showing their pasty white hand by not being able to differentiate between two black men with wildly different backgrounds that have happened upon on our television screens at one point or another in polar opposite fashions. Unfortunately, the truth is that they probably hate reading as much as they hate basketball, so - if you really think about it - LeVar Burton brought this backlash upon himself by pushing written words on the children of the illiterate. Always telling them to "take a look" as if what if they trying to find is "in a book"...
What type of fascist malarkey is that? I, for one, don't feel bad that LeVar Burton is catching wayward insults from a handful of racist morons. Hopefully they lead to the uncovering of this literary cult he's spent decades forming in the pursuit of what's at the end of that imaginary "rainbow". If that's the case then we will end up glad that he got pulled into a childish 20-minute discussion of what does and doesn't constitute a 'thank you' on a network that should probably stop identifying itself as "news".
Hope Lives In Cleveland! If 46 Different Things Go Their Way Then The Browns Could Still Make The Playoffs!
I'm just going to go ahead and say that this isn't the best of looks for the NFL (i.e. AFC). Parity is great and all, but it's kind of an indictment of your product when a franchise that has gone above and beyond in outdoing even their own special brand of organizational incompetence still technically has a chance to hobble to the Championship podium despite having spent well over half the season intentionally shooting themselves in the foot. I suppose it's nice that there is at least one masochist who can still parade around Ohio calling himself an "eternal optimist" while clutching desperately to a possibility that's exponentially less likely than winning back-to-back lotteries. That said, a league suffering from a distinct drop-off in performance probably doesn't want to hear that - despite their best efforts - a team that's actively tried to suck their way into "there's always next season" still hasn't totally slip the grasp of potential playoff spot.
Also, I find it absolutely fascinating that out of the 46 outcomes the Browns would need to make the postseason, the 40 that don't require them to actually win a single game seem far more feasible. Banking on a couple random ties seems ridiculously unlikely, but in comparison to Cleveland rattling off 6 straight wins? Those draws might as well result in a foregone conclusion. The Browns are so bad that they could legitimately get an unforeseen amount of help and would still need to 6 teams to fail to show up to the stadium to pick up a playoff spot that they unbelievably still have such a long shot at that it makes Steph Curry's range look like Shaq's shot chart.
John Moore As An Overtime Hero Is My Favorite Narrative That No Non-Devils Fan Could Possibly Understand
You ever try to have some fun at the expense of a super religious person by asking them to explain the modern day relevance of a thousand year old book that contains hundreds of contradictory passages? The amount of frustration they experience is ever-present on their face, and I honestly think I would probably suffer from the same external expression to an internal struggle if you asked me to break down how John Moore is the most dangerous 3-on-3 blue-liner in the NHL. At the risk of comparing the Devils' most defenseless defenseman to Jesus Christ, his overtime heroics are just something that I have just come to accept as an absolute truth despite having the same amount of rhyme and reasoning as the turning of water to wine.
In theory, it makes total sense that having more open ice favors the fast, but - by that same token - being left more vulnerable should hypothetically hinder someone whose proven prone to disastrous decision making. Somehow, John Moore looks increasingly helpless as the amount of help he has on the ice increases. Maybe a brighter hockey mind could tell you why that's the case, but - as far as I am concerned - his overtime brilliance is just something that I have stopped questioning and committed to memory like every formula that flew right over my head during physics. More time is 'Moore Time', and if your first instinct is to ask "why?" or "how?" then you're already fallen behind in class.
It's truly think it's the most non-sensical narrative going in hockey. So much so that it comparatively makes Jacob Josefson's inability to transfer his shootout prowess into a feasible, 5-on-5 skill seem as explicable as why ice is slippery. If I tried to describe to a non-Devils fan how a guy that you want as far from the ice as possible during the last minute of regulation is also insanely clutch when the game hangs in the balance they would almost assuredly look on with a dumbstruck stare that rivals that of this extremely confused child. This might be the recency bias talking, but I currently wouldn't have it any other way.
It's time to make it official. I am no longer made to feel uncomfortable by how quickly and thoughtlessly I grow to appreciate every single thing that comes out of the mouth of the Beast. I'm fully aware that I wouldn't grant a less likable/genuine athlete whose words were just as unfiltered that same leeway, but the entirety of this "interview" with a Mexican reporter is proof positive that I don't have to.
Let's look at this interaction for what it was, free of who took part in. We just watched a professional athlete accept a gift, babble on-and-on in a form of slang that undoubtedly sounded like the aimless ramblings of a homeless person whose brain had been fried by sleeping in the California sun too often to the person it was directed at, and start listing off the most Americanized of local dishes as a way to show an affinity for the culture.
If I had to guess, the only part of the "answer" the person holding the microphone picked up on was "Mexico? Mmmm, tacos". Marshawn Lynch was like two rungs up the ladder of socially acceptable stereotyping away from saying "Mexico? Andale arriba, I love my water a little dirty!", and the person who calls Mexico home was instinctually like "You know what? I don't know why, but I like this guy". You don't have to understand his global appeal (outside of the Oval Office), but - if that clip of a Mexican reporter looking as giddy as if he were the one who was given a free jersey after not getting a single question out is any indication - then you better start accepting it as a universal truth.
I can't even tell you the amount of times I have walked away after the initial 30 seconds of meeting someone and said to myself "hm, nice dude" because I was likely piss drunk every time I have. Regardless, I feel pretty comfortable saying I could count them on one hand. Marshawn Lynch is able to elicit that reaction nearly every time he opens his mouth, even if the only thing coming out is his recollection of the menu at the late night grub spot that he visits with his latino homies on the opposite side of Oaktown.
This news could mean one of two things, but - in reality - it probably has to do with a combination of both...
1) Perhaps Marshon Lattimore's diagnosis is going to be worse than expected. I'd think the fact that the Saints got reminded of just how fragile cornerback depth can be just a week after announcing the premature end of Delvin Breaux's season would have sent them on an urgent search for help at the position regardless. However, this could be a sign that they'll have to make due without the linchpin to their defensive revival for the time being. If that's the case then who better to add to the secondary than a familiar face with a knowledge of the system and a solid, yet unspectacular skill set.
2) Sean Payton never again wants to end up in a situation where DeVante Harris is forced to play meaningful snaps. Honestly, I hate piling on the guy because he's worked his ass off to keep his spot on a team that got significantly better since his arrival as an undrafted free agent last offseason, but - my goodness - has he made all the wrong impressions when given the opportunity. It's actually rather fitting that he turned his one positive play into an embarrassing spectacle by calling for a team-wide celebration of an "interception" that he knew damn well he dropped, because he's managed to find the most egregious ways to garner attention when he's been on the field...
It's no coincidence DeVante Harris has seemed to follow a vast majority of the Saints' blown coverages by a country mile, just as it is no coincidence that those blown coverages were few and far between after he got replaced by Ken Crawley. Obviously Harris is still a contributor on special teams, but - considering how proactive Sean Payton has been about improving the team - I can't imagine he's okay with being an awkward twist of an ankle away from depending on a guy whose proven undependable in the most eye-popping of fashion.
Fingers crossed that it's more #2 than #1, but either way the Saints are better off with Sterling Moore taking up a roster sport.
Jimmy Butler Missed A Potential Game-Tying Free Throw After Having His Routine Interrupted By Reggie Jackson
If the argument is that it is corny and/or childish for a professional athlete to engage in the the type of distractions you'd expect to see from a curvaceous, scantily clad coed playing beer pong then I would be forced to agree on one condition and one condition only. That condition is that it doesn't work.
Whatever Reggie Jackson lacked in professionalism he more than made up for in his commitment to winning, and I say that solely because you can make the case that his immature tactics led directly to his team's victory. If Jimmy Butler's free throw had casually made it's way through the net then the Pistons' guard would look no better than a persistent fan trying to make an impact on a close game by way of the desperate banging of thundersticks, but as soon as it rattled violently off the side of the rim he became an expert in the art of chicanery.
Who's to say whether or not Jimmy Butler would have missed regardless? Gamesmanship is to be judged on the result of the game so the benefit of the unknown goes to Reggie Jackson, and - in terms of competitive, collegiate binge drinking - he remains on the table with bragger's rights as a triumphant asshole that prioritizes winning above being liked. Considering there's something more important than a fictitious sense of personal pride on the line during a professional basketball game, I actually think an NBA arena is more respectable place for this type of behavior than a fraternity basement.
Baker Mayfield Won't Start Oklahoma's Next Game After Using His Package To Send A Message To The Kansas Sideline
What it was in response to:
For those of you that might not be able to tell after listening to his head coach speak on behalf of his character, Baker Mayfield is still with us. As he lowered his head and silently wept in the direction of the microphone I begun to think that perhaps Lincoln Riley had just gotten word that his Heisman-caliber starting quarterback had tragically passed away from testicular discomfort. Turns out, he was just made insanely emotional by the announcement of a PR stunt that is masquerading as an actual punishment.
This is quite obviously an empty act of discipline - considering Oklahoma currently possesses both a spot in the college football playoff and a complete lack of margin for error - but I still think anyone that thought this reaction was warranted is completely full of shit. The idea that a 22 year old has to sit out even one single play for grabbing his junk in the direction of a sideline that wouldn't even shake his hand during an orchestrated showing of mutual respect is absolutely asinine.
Of course, Baker Mayfield didn't exactly display a stroke (hehe) of genius by aggressively cupping his genitals in a way that would get a primary physician arrested for sexual assault of a minor while a camera was sure to be on him. Still, the idea that a heartfelt apology is no longer enough to forgive a college athlete for a momentary feeling of one's self in public when half of 'Hollywood' has used that same form of amends to excuse multiple decades of masturbatory feelings of themselves in public seems ever-so-slightly absurd.
If the amount of (literal and metaphorical) tears that have come of his retributive nut clutching are any indication then I guess I should just happy that Baker Mayfield survived. Unfortunately, if the broadcasters of the Oklahoma/Kansas game have their way then NFL GM's will ignore that an alleged rapist went first overall no more than three years ago and his draft stock will plummet quicker than his sperm count after that scrotum squeeze.
You know, at first it felt as though the Buffalo Bills' demotion of Tyrod Taylor was a laughably unfair punishment considering the fact that it seemed to be a reactionary move to their defense giving up 81 points in the two previous games. Now? I'm starting to think it was nothing more than a mercy benching.
We are talking about a guy who has never looked better - comparatively speaking - as he prepares for free agency, and the performance of the player responsible for his increase in value was so predictably pathetic that he made his own running back facetiousness appear to be a prognostication. I'll admit that I - much like LeSean McCoy, I'm sure - didn't think Nathan Peterman was going to aimlessly launch 5 interceptions in 15 passes during the first (last?) half of his career as a starter, but it legitimately required a historical amount of incompetence for me (or his own teammate) to be surprised at how bad he was.
Make no mistake, this move backfiring was basically a guarantee, but it took thee most intentionally hyperbolic of statement coming to fruition for it to do so in a way that made the team scapegoat look like a 'HOF' quarterback. An entire handful of interceptions in 30 minutes of gameplay is so unbelievably ridiculous that it's almost as if the football gods got wind of LeSean McCoy's hypothetical range of possibilities and accepted the challenge to make what was originally an ungodly coaching decision look the most blasphemous.
You never want to say that a professional athlete's abject failure was written in the stars. However, Sean McDermott might as well have rented a plane to write "it's not Tyrod's fault" in the sky the second he chose to start a 5th round pick against one of the best pass rushes in the NFL with no capable wide receivers to throw to and the backing of an atrocious defense. Of course, doing just that that somehow still wouldn't have read as incriminating as a stat line that somehow boasts more interceptions than his predecessor's entire season...
Six minutes. Two timeouts. One defensive stop.
I'm not quite sure how that adds up to 15 unanswered points, but if the Saints proved anything yesterday it's that having a transcendent quarterback absolves you of having to do the math...
It's truly unbelievable how quickly the narrative can change when you have a player the caliber of Drew Brees penning the final chapter, because - make no mistake - the Saints' effort up until that point was the furthest thing from deserving a happy ending.
Marshon Lattimore's early exit combined with the absences of both Kenny Vaccaro and A.J. Klein certainly played a part in the struggles of the Saints' defense. That said, it shouldn't have left them looking like they decided to pick up the phone and spend hours reminiscing when 2015 and the ghosts of broken coverage's past came-a-callin'. The run defense hasn't exactly been up to snuff all year, but - prior to yesterday's gashing - they have shown themselves capable of limiting the damage. They were obviously up against a desperate team (See: the Redskins fake punt while in the shadow of their own end zone) led by the best quarterback they've faced in over a month and half, but if they are as good as everyone is starting to believe they are then an injury to a rookie - albeit one with All-Pro potential - shouldn't leave them clutching and grabbing like they were fresh from a Brandon Browner coverage clinic. Perhaps it was only a matter of time (and health) before they got exposed, but it was a little concerning that every blitz seemed to leave their backend looking completely nude.
As for the offense, a somewhat miraculous comeback saved Sean Payton from having to answer questions regarding Mark Ingram only getting 9 carries in regulation when he was averaging over 10 yards per carry. I know that play calling can be very circumstantial, but as I watched a dominant run game get passed over for possessions at a time I began to wonder whether or not the Saints head coach had short term memory loss. Especially since his offensive line was apparently so giddy from going on the offensive last week that they forgot how to pass protect this week.
But enough with the negative, because even after summoning all the ways in which they sabotaged season's past, New Orleans still found a way to end up a net-positive. I'm not sure they needed to be reminded that their most dangerous weapon still resides under center, but I'll be damned if 11 straight completions, 164 yards, and two touchdowns in under 6 minutes didn't do just that. For all they did wrong, the resilience they showed the first time they were truly challenged throughout a win streak that has now spans a half a season felt oh-so-right. It would have been pretty easy for them to pack it in come garbage time, and instead they buckled down, played mistake-free football, and managed to recycle a lost cause into the most awe-inspiring of victories.
I've been hesitant to compare this year's Saints' team to the one that will live on forever in the rafters of The SuperDome, as I find it to be a lazy way to look at a roster that has merely one starter in common. That being said, the similarities are starting to become to stark to ignore. Pulling a rabbit out of their ass to make history as the first team to reel off eight straight after an 0-2 start is special enough in it's own right. Doing so against the Washington Redskins as Robert Meachem looked on from the sidelines and fate appeared to have a hand in the outcome? In the best way possible, that's just weird...
The fact that they needed Kirk Cousins to intentionally ground the Redskins chances should probably be a cause for concern as the Saints' schedule only looks to increase in difficulty, but it's impossible to be anything less than optimistic about a team whose undying belief in itself oddly made overtime feel inevitable. I don't know if yesterday's game was some kind of destiny defining win, but it has plenty of similarities to those that were nearly a decade ago. At the very least the people who matter most seem to think it was, so who am I to argue with a team that just proved that - for better or worse - its confidence is unflappable?
Honestly? This clip explains a lot. There are players that get labeled 'dirty' - much like Radko Gudas - in all sports, and I feel like we are always left wondering how discipline never seems to work on them no matter how many times they get fined or suspended for blatantly crossing the line.
Well, let the initial response from the Flyers' glorified parking cone turned lumberjack tell you everything you need to know about the the type of player that swings down on the neck of an opponent like he's auditioning for ISIS. That instinctual "oh come on, what now?" reaction to the calling of one of the most obvious and egregious penalties ever taken is a look inside the small, overly-compartmentalized brain of a player that literally cannot decipher right from wrong while on a hockey rink. I'd probably consider that play an 'Intent to Behead' simply because 'Intent to Injure' wouldn't do it justice. I can't even call it a match penalty, because - in terms of reprehensibility - it hardly has an equal.
Yet, in the moment the person who committed it looked legitimately flabbergasted that is drew so much as a whistle. The most dangerous players are those that completely forget how to define the word 'dangerous' once they step on the ice, and - by taking the reigns as Philly's preeminent scumbag and a repeat offender of bush league tactics on Broad Street - Radko Gudas is just that.
Don't believe me? Just ask his captain...
Okay, so here's my question. In Brent Musburger's opinion, what exactly do occasional watchers of the NFL give a shit about it? I'd assume nothing since it's inherently paradoxical for a casual fan to truly care about any one aspect of the sport they are sporadically watching because they have nothing better to do. However, let's assume that someone with an extensive broadcasting career knows better than I and there are certain things that make the uninvested more likely to tune in.
If that's the case, why wouldn't a camera that makes it far easier to understand the multitude of things that are taking place on the field at any given time be one of them? I'd agree that the positioning of safeties isn't a primary concern for 99.9999% of the audience that doesn't coach secondaries professionally, but why would anyone watching not be interested in seeing through the eyes of the one player on each team who everyone knows by name?
If Musburger's is saying that a new camera angle isn't going to help draw ratings for a mid-week matchup whose gameplay predominantly sucks then he probably makes a pretty decent point. If he's saying that watching from a vantage point that people literally use when trying to re-create what they see on the field virtually (i.e. 'Madden') is somehow less appealing than a sideline shot that hides players for long stretches of time then I can't help but wonder if his age just has him hating everything that didn't exist back in his day. After all, future coaches can probably tell you what's going on without actually seeing it. As an idiot fan I can definitely say that I can't trust anything but my own eyes whose range of vision has been expanded by the 'SkyCam'.
Jameis Winston Is Being Accused Of Grabbing An Uber Driver By The...Well...You Can Fill In The Blank
NYPost- Buccaneers quarterback Jameis Winston is under investigation by the NFL for allegedly groping a female Uber driver’s crotch in 2016, BuzzFeed News reported Friday.
“I started driving, and right away, Jameis behaved poorly,” Kate told BuzzFeed News. After Winston asked to stop for food, Kate drove to the drive-thru of Los Betos Mexican Food, where he then "reached over and he just grabbed my crotch.” Kate claims Winston’s hands were on her privates for three-to-five seconds. In shock, she removed his hand and said, “What’s up with that?”
Kate found 6-foot-4 Winston “physically imposing.”
“I mean he’s an NFL quarterback and I’m 5-foot-6. I’m not prepared for that. So I completely froze,” she recounted.
Winston has since issued a statement denying the allegations.
“We categorically deny this allegation,” Winston’s spokesperson, Russ Spielman, stated. “It is our understanding the uber driver was unable to identify the specific individual who allegedly touched this driver inappropriately. The only reason his name is being dragged in to this is that his uber account was used to call the ride.”
So wait, in lieu of an actual denial that sexual assault took place, Jameis Winston's spokesperson went with the less tried and potentially untrue method of crafting a categorically hypothetical scenario in which a mystery person was using his client's Uber app in order to cruise around town grabbing the secret garden of his chauffeur without having his name attached? In response to a crime that - oddly enough - features characteristics of rape, theft, and the reinforcement of antiquated gender roles, the best defense that Jameis Winston's team could come up with is "maybe he selflessly called a car for a sexual assailant by accident"?
I know everyone has the right of innocence until proven guilt, but in the increasingly prominent court of public opinion the verdict is...NOT GREAT, BOB! I'm not trying to play judge and/or jury in the case of the previously problematic quarterback vs the random Uber driver in Arizona, but that dumbass explanation so forcibly pushed me in favor of the plaintiff that you'd think it used Donald Trump's predatory flirtation technique to do so. It is a little odd that she was not able to identify the person who touched her inappropriately when (if true) he's so easily recognizable. However, it's not nearly as odd as finding it ridiculous that a repeat offender of stupidity has been "dragged into" the scene of a crime in which - at the very least - his name, number, and credit card information were present. Jameis Winston's past isn't doing him any justice, but neither is his counsel's lack of understanding of ride sharing.
Well, well, well....look who just talked themselves into some mandatory one-on-one time with the team nutritionist! Obviously not every athlete has the will power to stick to Tom Brady's dietary restrictions, but I think the Lakers would probably prefer that their point guard prepare for professional competition better than Tom Arnold. It's actually a credit to Jordan Clarkson that he's putting up nearly 16 points per game in an efficient manner, because the fashion in which he sustains himself is anything but. I can't say for sure, but I imagine that if he learned to mix in a complex carbohydrate every once in a while he could really reach his sky-high potential instead of stopping to taste the rainbow.
As a former useless college student I can definitively say that the only thing that game day ritual is missing is a single bong rip every hour on the hour, assuming that his preferred lifestyle is that of the stoned and shameless. The leftover breakfast chicken that may or may not have found its way to the fridge in the first place? Multiple naps? A halfhearted video game sesh? Is Jordan Clarkson preparing for an NBA game or unemployment?
Obviously, as a 25 year old, he's still a couple of years away from the eye-opening and belt loosening moment of clarity that causes one to stop treating their body like a complete wasteland (during the week), but - if I were Jordan Clarkson - I'm not sure I'd be volunteering that information up to the organization that employs me for my athleticism.
Unless - of course - he's shooting for a Roscoe's sponsorship. If that's the case the he shouldn't chicken out or waffle from a schedule that has playing a brand of ball that's relegated the #2 overall pick to the bench when the game is on the line. A wise philosopher once said "eh, whatever works", and - more imperative to Jordan Clarkson's job security - Lonzo Ball's jump shot currently does not.
Disclaimer: Only one injury prone player with a long, storied history of a multitude of unforgivable crimes was potentially tazed in the making of that post.
If we are being completely honest, I'm not entirely sure what happened during the second half of Junior Galette's tweet. Unfortunately, knowing what I know about him, it's a tossup as to whether he accidentally hit a bunch of buttons while getting chased down the street by authorities for doing something insanely stupid or if he just displayed a rudimentary understanding of the English language. Whatever the case may be, the person who serves as the perfect example of what went wrong with the Saints appears riled up to make his return and triumphantly remind them of just how far they've come.
I'm not exactly sure why he's so excited seeing as a situational, backup pass rusher whose had all of one single sack since his unceremonious departure three seasons ago stands very little chance of making an impact against one of the best offensive lines in the league. If anything, he should be downright fearful that New Orleans now relies on a ground game that exploits over-aggressive, sack-happy edge rushers. However, if he wants to exact some sort of revenge on the organization that almost immediately regretted giving him his payday by getting brushed to the outside as Terron Armstead makes his way to the second level then all the power to him.
All I know is that most, if not all, Saints fans will be breathing a sigh of relief seeing Junior Galette take the field as someone else's problem. The kryptonite to what is now a cohesive team filled with players that genuinely enjoy watching each other succeed currently wears the number 58 for the Washington Redskins and will only get the opportunity to sour the mood in the visitors' locker room. With how often the Saints are winning and how much they are having together in the process, it almost makes me want to enthusiastically string together some nonsensical letters. The absence of players like the one that just did has been paramount to that success, so we'll see who is actually getting targeted come Sunday.
In theory, having the puck bounce casually over stick and slide harmlessly into the corner as you pick your toe into the ice and are sent into a whirling dervish around a relieved goaltender is the worst thing that can happen to you after your once golden opportunity has drawn the attention of the entire building. After all, it's embarrassing, shows a laughable lack of coordination, and - in 2017 - gets you plastered up, down, and all around the internet for all to see.
That said, I think if I were going to jumble a breakaway in such an egregious fashion that the puck would have needed a compass to find the net after meeting it's final destination then I'd rather do so in such an over-the-top way that my coaches and teammates would be forced to share a laugh at my expense. I mean, that spill featured so many incredible feats of unathleticism that by the time the person responsible for them ended up in the back of the net, I had nearly forgotten the puck hadn't. In the most ass-backwards possible, this dude managed to completely deflect the focus from him not scoring to him being an incompetent klutz.
That won't save him from getting endlessly ribbed in the locker room, but - considering it's close to impossible not to smile while watching the entirety of that play - it will save him from feeling the frustrated glares of teammates would otherwise be pissed that he didn't even get a shot off on a breakaway. I guess what I am trying to say is that if you're going to be pro athlete that spoils a climactic moment then at least make sure you provide some comic relief in the process, because this is what it looks like without it...