Just another added bonus of being 'The Great One', I suppose. Even in the most copacetic of relationships, I'd say that wearing the last name of your soon-to-be father-in-law on your back in the public eye gives him the upper-hand in the unspoken power struggle that typically exists between a daughter's dad and her fiancee/husband. In this case, however, said daughter is the product of such exceptional sperm that even one of the most gifted golfers in the world has thrown in the towel on trying to be the most universally important person in her life.
I don't blame Dustin Johnson, as the father to his soon-to-be supermodel bride is basically synonymous with the entire sport of hockey to those that don't even know the rules of it. Wayne Gretzky is essentially the Canadian Tiger Woods had Tiger Woods not gotten the dominance beaten out of him with his own club after screwing the entire wait staff at every pedestrian chain restaurant within walking distance. Therefore, DJ really had no choice but to except that his celebrity will always come in second, if not third (as Paulina still goes by 'Gretzky'), during holidays.
That said, he deserves credit to embracing his eternally silver medal. A lesser man might continue to fight that uphill battle out of foolish and stubborn pride, but - if his decision to rock the illustrious number 99 on the links is any indication - then Dustin Johnson is keepin' it a 100 in regards to how retired his place will be in the family power rankings. The fact that he's living a better life than 99.9% of the population sure makes it easier to do so, but there are far too many people of his notoriety that would rather come off as a self-important prick than lean into being lesser in status than even .1% of their peers. Especially if they had to pass one of those peers the mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving,
Bradley Wright-Phillips Of The Red Bulls Was Fully Prepared To Become The Fastest 100 Goal Scorer in MLS History
Objectively speaking, that's exactly how it's done. That wasn't just a celebratory self-promotional spectacle, it was the thee celebratory self-promotional spectacle by which all others should be measured going forward. There's a bunch of antiquated sports fans out there who are falsely made to feel more comfortable with the placement of the stick up there ass every time an NFL player hands the ball back an official following a touchdown. Yet, even they would have to tip their ill-fitting golf cap to how much sweat and swag was spilled by Bradley Wright-Phillips in the making of history.
Take the foresight that went into having an authentic jersey bearing the #100 printed up. Throw in a dash of the self-assuredness necessary to throw it on under his actual uniform while playing a game as exasperating as soccer in the humid hellscape of Washington D.C. during the dead of summer. Mix it all up with the superior skill required to outrace a defender to the ball, stop on a dime, and almost too casually whip it it through his wickets into the back of the net. Apparently that is the recipe for an immaculate amount of moxie, because it would be impossible to argue that Bradley Wright-Phillips didn't "keep it 100" in earning the opportunity to feel himself.
Owning a big ego isn't particularly impressive, but keeping it fed off calories that are anything but empty is basically an art form. It's one that the Red Bulls' striker is especially skilled in, and since it's one that's become become a lot more quantity than quality as of late, I hope he goes into teaching when his playing days come to an end. Professor, Stunt 101-401.
I want everyone to keep in mind that I'm judging based off the rarely referenced and extremely unforgiving scale of instances in which a dropkick has been executed to perfection on the pitch, but didn't that particular cleat(s)-on-sternum contact seem relatively unavoidable? I wouldn't go as far as saying that our boy Melisse even tried to avoid it, as he seemingly lifted his second leg for no apparent reason, but when there's a set of washboard abs at your disposal you're not going to not use them to break your fall. That's just human instinct taking over, as far as I'm concerned.
Getting hit with a move that's typically delivered by those wearing sequenced speedos and face paint in a WWE ring probably shouldn't be considered an occupational hazard of playing professional soccer. However, with how long his feet hung in the air, I think there's an excellent "he ran into me!"-type case to be made that the victim was at least mildly complicit in the collision. Of course the slow motion replay helps that case exorbitantly, but the fact remains that, of the handful of gut-punching dropkicks I've seen, that one seemed the most like the incidental result of applicable athleticism and happenstance meeting in the middle of an opponent's ribcage. Then again, that's not saying all that much when this is what it's being compared to...
It Took 20 Goals Against, But The Opposing Goalie In Everton's Friendly Finally Threw In The Towel In a 22-0 Defeat
I think the obvious question here is a rhetorical one. Other than boosting their own confidence by way of not-so-borderline bullying, there's no reasonable answer for why a Premier League team would find it a productive use of their preparation time to beat the absolute piss out out of some beer leaguers. I mean, if that was just a "friendly" then so was the time that Tim Riggins plowed his recently paralyzed quarterback's girlfriend on Friday Night Lights. Therefore, I'm not even going to ask why this massacre even took place, and instead focus on one of the most impressive achievements I have ever seen on the pitch.
Yeah, I guess the twenty-two unanswered goals in a 90 minute game that typically features under 10% of that much scoring was all well and good, but not nearly as commendable as the opposing goalkeeper nearly making it to stoppage time before quitting on his team. In the moment, it might have seemed infantile for him to turn his back on the ball as a form of protest. However, after his own teammate increased the lead to 19 by inexplicably booming one over his head for no apparent reason, anything more peaceful than breaking pint bottles over the head of each one of his peers became a stellar display of both sportsmanship and professionalism...
Honestly, any man of even slightly lesser character would have been impatiently waiting on the team bus with a pillowcase full of quarters by the time the lead was increased to a dozen, so credit to him for making it 84 minutes into that drubbing before relinquishing all responsibilities. Never mind throwing in the towel, he had plenty of reason to use it to chloroform his entire roster and leave them naked and hogtied at midfield. Hopefully he didn't pay for a single drink that night, and that includes those he would have been every bit justified in dumping on the heads of the bums that hung him out to dry all afternoon.
An MLS Coach Went On A Half-Assed Rant About The Officials, Showing How Far Soccer Has To Go In This Country
This doesn't happen all too often, but I'm offended. Not by a professional coach's use of an expletive in his attempt to emphasize how little he cares about being penalized for his opinion, but rather his abuse of the word "shit" in trying to make an otherwise mild outburst seem worthy of a fine in the first place.
Honestly, I just feel as thought I was lied to. I don't like being led astray, and labeling that overly thought out, long-winded, and completely coherent complaint a "rant" is as disingenuous as considering the even-keeled man who delivered it to be a martyr. I thought I was going to get a glimpse at a World Cup-worthy freakout from an MLS manager who got tossed from a game in which his team ended up losing by a single goal. Instead I witnessed a reminder that the ambiguous rules of beer pong are the cause for far more uncontrollable anger in the United States than crappy officiating at the highest level of domestically organized soccer.
Hell, if I were the Commissioner I wouldn't even give the manager of Real Salt Lake the satisfaction of a fine, for the only thing profane about that cuss word was how shamelessly it was inserted to get that interview rated PG-13. That might pass for a "rant" in Utah, but anywhere within spitting distance of the Tristate area and that's considered run-of-the-mill irritability. I know inconsolable animosity in sports when I see it, and native New Yorker Mike Petke sounding off in a way that made it seem more likely that his steak was slightly overcooked than his team was robbed of a victorious result in a professional sporting event ain't it.
The MLS needs a little more "they are who we thought they were!" (R.I.P. Dennis Green) if those fully invested in it want us to believe that it isn't what we think it is. Which is, of course, an extremely underwhelming attempt at trying to popularize soccer in a country whose upmost quality can't even qualify for tournament in which blood would literally be shed over a bad enough call.
FIFA Appears Intent On Addressing Its Most Problematic Issue, Which Is (::scratches head::) Female Fan Shots?
LBS- A FIFA executive says the organization has talked with broadcasters about reducing the amount of shots of hot women at the World Cup.
An anti-discrimination group called Fare Network has raised a point about sexism at the World Cup, which includes the harassment of female reporters while on TV, as well as multiple shots of female fans in the crowd.
According to FIFA diversity boss Federico Addiechi, they have discussed the matter with broadcasters.
“We’ve done it with individual broadcasters. We’ve done it with our host broadcast services,” Addiechi said, via the BBC.
He said the organization will look into reducing cutaways to female fans.
“This is one of the activities we definitely will have in future – it’s a normal evolution.”
I'll tell you what, the best thing that could possibly happen to FIFA is that broadcast crews don't heed their warning and continue to give attractive women from all over the globe their five seconds of international fame. I get that female-dominated fan shots are technically objectifying and the idea of some guy scanning the crowd for busty cougars and panting as he pounds on the zoom button is definitely a little creepy. That said, if their cutaways stop being so easy on the eyes then the most corrupt institution in all of sports might actually have to address their laundry list of real problems.
I mean, FOX could send cameramen into bathrooms unannounced to peek over stalls and broadcast drunken, mid-match money shots during breaks in the action and it still wouldn't be the most problematic practice with which FIFA affiliates itself. We're talking about an organization that has blood on both their hands and the multi-millions that are lining their pockets, and their biggest concern is wiping clean the drool from their viewing demographic of excitable dudes? The World Cup is a tournament that attracts psychotic sports fans that take patriotism to a nationalistic level, and the prejudice that's being prioritized as an issue is the disproportional amount of times in which the fairer sex quickly graces the screen with its beauty amidst homophobic chants and death threats?
To call this call for more maniacal men on camera a diversionary tactic would be an insult to diversion and tactics, because putting candid shots of pretty women in the stands in the same vein of sexism as the inexcusable physical harassment of female reporters makes my eyes roll so over-emphatically that they'd put Neymar to shame. If FIFA is intent on ridding itself of all -ism's then perhaps it should start by not setting its most illustrious stage in a home country that views homosexuality as more offensive than hate crimes. Maybe it's just me, but the racism that tends to result from pitting less than progressive nations against each other in competition that's made more heated on the field and in the stands by the stakes might be worthy of more attention than the objectification of some Brazilian bombshell that's probably going to filter her World Cup cameo into a highly hearted Instagram post.
If it is truly sexism then it's sexism in its most mild form, and there's nothing mild about the problems that arise when the entire f'n world has to agree on a specific set of social norms during a month in which every country is rooting for one another's misery.
England Fans In London Celebrating A Goal With A City-Wide Beer Shower Is As Good As The World Cup Gets
If for some reason you still needed a glimpse into just how much the World Cup means to those wholeheartedly invested in its outcome then this video is the perfect portrayal. In order of importance, where their next beer was coming from was second only to a triumph for their home country, and yet the entirety of the English faithful couldn't help but throw a couple dozen kegs worth of Newcastle to the wind once their boys found the back of the net. Seriously, other than the actual sport itself, that clip of savory suds spraying over an entire congregation of loud, proud, and rowdy residents as if they all broke the seal off the backsplash of the world's largest urinal in unison is as good as international soccer gets.
Unfortunately for England, that clip was literally as good as it got. I already praised them for their awe-inspiring encapsulation of the thrill of victory, but - boy, oh boy - the agony of defeat must have stunk something serious. Just thousands of sticky, sweat-stained drunks slowly dragging ass back to their humble abodes smelling like the basement floor of a fraternity after having warm beer baked into their skin for the last hour and a half. I'm glad their highest of highs was what was caught on tape, because Croatia's comeback probably had them looking like death run over twice by the replenished beer truck they emptied all over each other once they came crashing down to the lowest of lows. Not to ruin what was an awesome moment by referencing it's polar opposite, but both are intrinsic to being a crazed fan of a sport that takes center stage once every four years. Live by the "GOAAAAL!", die by the "GOAAAAL!", and I'm taking about their buzz just as much as I'm talking about the people that had theirs blown.
And this, right here, is the type of thing you can only feel comfortable participating in during an event as unique as the World Cup. In almost every other form of competition this would be considered a bad omen, as the elimination round hasn't even kicked off yet. However, in a sport fueled by such fierce, international rivalries that only get to truly come to a head once every four years, not a single wound should go free of salt.
Humility? Ain't nobody got time for that! Modesty? Maybe next month, but not even the irony of an impending matchup with a Mexican team whose advancement was the new life that was born of the shocking death of the reigning champs that Brazilians mocked through the streets is enough to silence the hooligans during the much anticipated period in which their peak patriotism is encouraged. That funeral procession screams "be careful what you wish for...", but nobody could possibly care anywhere near enough to sober up and listen. As well they shouldn't, for when four years of the most loyal of fandom get packed into a 4.5 week span, every second you spend still alive is to be shamelessly celebrated...even if that entails dancing on the dead with props that symbolize the 6 feet they'll remain under until 2022.
TheBigLead- On Saturday, during the third round of the Travelers Championship, Bryson took his analysis of the game just a little too far and caught the eye of the PGA Tour when he was caught by cameras using a compass to, in his own words, “figure out true pin locations.”
“The pin locations are just a little bit off every once in a while, and so I’m making sure they’re in the exact right spot. And that’s it.”
They said, ‘Hey, we just want to let you know that we’re investigating the device and seeing if it’s allowable,'” DeChambeau said. “I understand. It wouldn’t be the first time this has happened.”
“It’s a compass. It’s been used for a long, long time. Sailors use it,” DeChambeau said. “It’s just funny that people take notice when I start putting and playing well.”
Whew, and I was beginning to think that the PGA Tour, and the sport of golf in general, encouraged the use of meticulous means while in the pursuit of an illustrious end. Considering the way in which everyone reacted to Phil Mickelson's felonious breach of etiquette, I would have thought the polarity of Bryson DeChambeau's decision to dissect the ball's every direction before hitting it would be celebrated. Good to know that there's a very small middle ground between being too casual and too formal in which professional golfers are forced to reside.
Now, I have no idea how using the type of compass that the perfectionist who made you look bad in third grade by turning in geometry homework that looked to be computer generated before yours appeared to be added to the pile out of the ass of your dog is at all beneficial in putting a ball in a hole. I do know, however, that it's use is only about a half a step up from the type of methodical course management that is usually gets glorified on the greens.
Bryson DeChambeau might be a bit of try hard, as it's highly preposterous for him to claim that he needed to find the "true pin location" when there's a 6-foot fucking flag sticking out of it. That said, golf has built it's bombastic brand off treating itself like a science. Might as well embrace the existence of the nit-picking nuisance who somewhat inevitably showed up with a tool that guarantees the accuracy of the data when you're the same sport that analyzes everything down to the blade of grass.
Phil Mickelson Texted Reporters Apologizing For His Actions At The U.S. Open...Four Days After His Actions At The U.S. Open
I say the following without exaggeration. Of all the empty apologies that have been tossed around in hopes of speeding up 2018's news cycle and directing the ire of the easily offended to the next unforgivable act that becomes easily forgotten, this one might just be the most senseless.
Personally, I found the most relatable display of frustration ever to take place on a prestigious golf course to be hilariously endearing. However, even if I were to step foot in the straight-laced shoes of golf purists here, I can't imagine that a "sorry" this late in the pretentious game is what's going to cure their endless constipation.
The think pieces have been written. The opinions have been formed. The sides of the fence have been firmly taken. What good does bringing this up again do? I think the poor children would have eventually pulled through their devastating disappointment had Phil Mickelson not offered his amends to distraught reporters. As fragile as its participants can be at times, I can't help but think that both the spirit and the sport of golf would have persevered without Lefty's belated plea to make things right. At the risk of giving the most sanctimonious of sports enthusiasts too much credit, I think we have all moved on from talking about a stupid 2-stroke penalty taken by someone who was playing out the remainder of an awful performance as nothing more than an obligation.
It's Wednesday. More so than anyone, those that are so emotionally entrenched in a sport that predominantly takes place on weekends should prescribe to the concept of hump day, and therefore an inability to get the hell over it is their own damn problem at this point.
For that reason, I think I'm now offended. Not by a professional golfer channeling his inner pissed off putt-putter or the insanely over-the-top reaction to it, but rather by the timing of an apology that was either too-little-too-late or too-much-too-soon depending on whether or not you watch golf with a 9-iron lodged up your ass.
After Getting Blitzkrieg'd By Mexico In The World Cup, The Front Page Of This German Newspaper Sure Looks Stupid In Retrospect
It's ironic that the joke of questionable taste involves an unexpected wall, because some might say the German editors that green lit political prodding in their sports-based front page really walked face first into that one. Taking a shutout loss to a massive underdog like Mexico must have felt like taking a stack of bricks to the face, and who better to absorb that blow than the country whose players apparently took their directive on shameless overconfidence from one of their own publications. I mean, never mind tempting fate, Germany basically tickled Karma's taint by invoking an international controversy for laughs as if the skeletons in their closet are all smiles. The jokes that could have been levied in response to a wall reference that was more conventional than clever were plentiful, but none of them would have been as funny as the unexpected win that could best be encapsulated by the headline "Sorry Germany, today we left a staunch support group hailing a global power right into its untimely demise".
Phil Mickelson Went Full-Blown "F*ck It" In Whacking His Rogue Putt Back Up The Green While It Was Still Moving
Literally everyone else who wishes the sport would take itself even slightly less seriously:
Let's just get the obvious out of way, Phil Mickelson acted immaturely in a way that was unbecoming of his stature in the sport of golf. You'd be completely justified in calling him a baby, or a sore loser, or even a mental midget...assuming, of course, that you're cool with being a hypocrite.
Perhaps we should hold the pros to a higher standard, but considering Lefty's ball was leaving one of the many greens that kicked some of the best golfers in the world right in the Shinnecock, I couldn't have found it more amusing that he chose to take the common man's mulligan. In fact, after hearing some of this weekend's reviews, all his haters should just be happy that he didn't do so with a Bud Light tallboy spilling out of his off-hand. I couldn't be speaking from more personal experience in saying the following. People that are already +10 on the day don't cheat, they check out. That was pure frustration manifesting itself in the most relatable "fuck it" that you may ever see on the PGA Tour and I, for one, appreciated having my own on-course adolescence legitimized by a legend.
All critics should consider this, it takes nothing more than a scroll back through your own personal birthday registry for a reminder that the one day a year in which your peers allow you to get away with acting younger is the same day in which you turn a year older. Therefore, we shouldn't be debating whether or not Doug should kick him off the tour, but rather focusing on trying to fit 48 candles on his ice cream cake and a bright red rubber sleeve on his putter head...
It's Phil's party and he'll lie if he wants to. Which is exactly what he did when he claimed it was the rules that governed his decision to whack his wayward ball back onto the green, as opposed to the same type of temper that's led to no less than 10 billion adult tantrums...
Behold About Two Dozen People (Including Tiger Woods And Justin Thomas) Desperately Searching The Rough For Dustin Johnson's Ball
And on the extensive list of things that separates you, I, or any other weekend warrior from the top golfers in all the world, we have a new difference atop the leaderboard. Unfortunately for those, much like myself, that pride themselves on drinking just enough to vehemently blame the booze, a complete inability to judge just about every factor that might contribute to the flight pattern of a ball has officially been pushed into second place. It's replacement as the most stark contrast between the lives of pros and joes is, somewhat surprisingly, not having a goddamn search party at our disposal when said ball happens to land wherever the wind might take it.
For a quick second, I almost considered that scene to be the most relatable moment in U.S. Open history, seeing as I misplace more shots than I take (an unusual amount of) pride in. However, the truth of the matter is that Tiger Woods and Co. just looked for Dustin Johnson's ball more diligently than I have ever looked for one of my own. Like, that's a thirty second clip and if it were taken of me in the same circumstance I would have crammed in 4-6 aimless whacks at the brush, a dejected endeavor back into a rapidly depleting sleeve of balls, and a generous underhand toss that fell about 15 yards up the fairway but not far enough onto it that I'd have to explain myself to anyone. To be honest, if I actually found out where half my tee shots ended up then I'd probably just crack beers in the clubhouse instead, but for that 15-second span in which I'm actually determined to find my ball it would be nice to have around 30 people matching that intensity.
To The Dismay Of Everyone With A Soul, Former NFLer And Noted Domestic Abuser Greg Hardy Won Both His First Professional MMA Match And A UFC Contract
Wait just a damn minute here. That is not what I signed up for, and I'm not just talking about Greg Hardy stepping away from squaring up against offensive linemen and defenseless women to actually become successful in facing off against those that are professionally and proficiently trained in violence against people of their own size and strength. What I do mean is that I longed for the day that psychopath got shown the door by the NFL so he could be put in a position to get the brutal beatdowns he had coming to him, not so that he could fight former peers that were just as inexperienced.
All due respect to Austen Lane, who I'm sure gave it his best effort, but if I wanted proof that Greg Hardy was more dangerous than most football players than I would have watched his f'n highlight tape. I was sold a bill of goods in which "good" was finally going to prevail, and instead I was left watching a domestic abuser get gifted a second chance in professional sports. I guess that more than likely guarantees that we'll eventually see him get his teeth kicked in by someone in the UFC that dedicated a lot more than the last couple of years to training to kill. Still, I feel temporarily robbed of the long overdue punishment of a pummeling that was supposed to ever-so-slightly make up for the prison sentence he somehow avoided.
Greg Hardy, of all people, was put in a position to succeed when the only reason anyone remains even mildly interested in his life is in hopes of watching him fail. I'd imagine that's exactly why a business man like Dana White chose to keep us on the line as viewers by propping him up with a win over a manageable opponent, but he better eventually satisfy our thirst for Greg Hardy's demise with a plan to have what's left of his brain damaged by consecutive roundhouse kicks. If he wants even a semblance of his word to remain in tact, that is...
UFC Fighter Raquel Pennington Told her Corner She Was "Done", Only To Be Sent Back Out To Get Viciously KO'd In The Following Round
Both obviously and deservingly, the overwhelming opinion regarding this clip of a battered and beaten fighter being forced back into action against her own will is that her "team" makes LeBron's look helpful by comparison. The juxtaposition of the most disheartened of "I'm done" from the person whose face had already been transformed into a pufferfish to the most impassioned of denial from a group of people who were supposed to use common sense to look out for her well-being isn't the type of thing that gets positively digested publicly.
Now, in fairness to her corner, I think there is bit more convincing that goes into ringside pep talks than most are willing to admit. The throwing of towels would probably be a hell of a lot more prominent if it was left solely to the discretion of those that just used them to wipe the blood from their own unrecognizably swollen face.
That said, when your combatant's nose is the only thing more broken than her spirit, it's probably best to take her word for it when she says she's had about enough of being pulverized within the unfriendly confines of a cage. I'm not exactly a body language expert, but Raquel Pennington didn't exactly have the look of someone who was a mild mindset alteration from flipping the script of a lopsided MMA match. In fact, if you had asked me how that fight was going to conclude after watching one of the participants passively attempt to bring it to an early end then my prediction would have been far too close to accurate for someone that completely lacks familiarity with either fighter...
I guess what I am trying to say is that we probably shouldn't apply real world sensibilities to every interaction that takes place during something as barbaric as organized human brutality. There are almost certainly cases in which fighters have appreciated being told to get back out there by their trainers. Unfortunately, her team shouldn't have needed a crystal ball - or even a rudimentary knowledge of MMA, for that matter - to see that this particular case stood a far better chance of looking like the scheduled feeding of a wounded animal to a lion than getting overturned in an unforgiving octagon.
Arkansas' Women's Tennis Team Met The NCAA Tournament Requirements By Scheduling Six Matches Against A Cupcake On The Last Day Of The Season
LastWord- In one of the most bizarre stories in college tennis–or college sports in general–the Arkansas Razorbacks women’s tennis team schedule Tennessee State six times on Sunday. It was a grueling full day of tennis, with the first match beginning at 8:00 AM and the final match concluding around 9:00 PM. Arkansas prevailed in all six, jumping their record on the season to 16-16 from 10-16. Reaching a .500 win percentage was extremely significant, as a team must be at least .500 to be selected to play in the 64-team NCAA tournament beginning on May 12th.
The primary reason Arkansas scheduled this unreasonable day of tennis was their incredible run of matches toward the end of the season. They finished the regular season an unimpressive 7-15, with a 3-10 mark in conference. However, this may not be as bad as it seems; they play in the SEC Conference, which boasts five of the top ten ranked teams in the country. They entered the postseason SEC tournament as the #11 seed out of 14 teams. Arkansas also finished the regular season strong, defeating #35 Tennessee in their final match.
They proceeded to play by far their best tennis of the season at this point, winning three consecutive matches en route to the semifinal. The road to the semifinal included victories over #19 ranked Auburn and #7 ranked South Carolina. In the semifinal, they were able to put up a decent fight against #9 Florida, though they did not come out on top. Similar to the NCAA basketball tournament, the selection committee (at least unofficially) tends to have recency bias, with an emphasis on postseason tournament play. Arkansas likely felt that with these impressive wins to finish off their year, they would have a legitimate shot to play in the NCAA tournament. However, they still were only 10-16 on the season, and needed to get to .500 by Sunday, April 22nd, the last day of the season.
It is difficult to tell what prompted this scheduling, or how it came to be. Arkansas was eliminated from the SEC tournament on April 20, and scheduled and played the first match soon after at 8:00 AM on April 22. They had to find a school nearby who could host Arkansas on short notice, and most importantly was willing to play six matches in a day and lose all of them. Most likely, money was the main factor.
Sports such as college football and basketball bring huge revenues to universities, but smaller sports like tennis rarely charge for admission and generally operate at a loss. Tennessee State could have had a struggling program financially, and was offered a significant amount of money from Arkansas. This is not illegal, as large schools pay small schools to play them often in many different sports. It would also be a win-win for the schools, as Tennessee State’s women’s tennis program will be well funded, and Arkansas not only has a chance to make the tournament they believe they deserve, but will also make additional money from their postseason play. If money was the reason for this match-up, it makes sense from both sides and follows NCAA rules, though it may not be the right thing to do.
Why did Arkansas have to travel to Tennessee to do this? Why not just host a nearby school? Well, the Arkansas athletic department has an odd rule. They view all smaller in-state schools as rivals that they refuse to support, so Arkansas won’t give them money by playing them. Because of this rule, which spans all sports, the Razorbacks had to travel to Nashville to face Tennessee State.
Here's the thing. It's impossible to hate on a women's tennis team for exploiting the most obvious of loopholes, because taking advantage of vulnerable parties that desperately need funding is so engrained into the fabric of the NCAA that it's billionaire executives might as well being laying their heads to rest under the comfort of a quilt made of profit-bearing technicalities.
Sure, financially incentivizing a lesser school to schedule 1/5th of a season's worth of matches in a single day just prior to the deadline is an outrageous example of cheapening the hard work of countless others. There's no doubt that leveraging your way into the playoff bubble with money more so than merit theoretically compromises the integrity of college sports. Fortunately for the young, racquet-yielding ladies of Arkansas, you can't compromise integrity that's never actually existed in the first place.
Which brings to light my only issue with this move. Seeing as it makes the NCAA look even more mind-numbingly stupid than they make themselves look and sets a dangerous precedent that would require them to put forth an actual effort to fix, isn't it fair to suspect that Arkansas wouldn't exactly be the apple of the selection committee's eye after trying to blatantly circumvent a broken system? Giving themselves the slightest of chances at a National Championship was certainly worth the old college try, especially with a pro-SEC bias potentially working in their favor. Still, this whole situation seems as though it's daring a dictatorial organization to stick too tightly to their own idiotic rules when they typically only do so to cause student athletes undeserved harm as opposed to offering them undeserved help. It's still worthy of a touché, but I'm skeptical as to whether it will be worthy of an invitation to the dance.
Bardown- During AFC (Alaska Fighting Championship) 139, following the conclusion of a bantamweight match between Elijah Terrell and David Booker, the ring announcer accidentally announced the wrong winner. After correcting himself, the two fighters embraced in the centre of the ring...and then the announcer corrected himself a second time. Awkward!
Steve Harvey, eat your heart out, because this UFC event just got Moonlight'd in a way that would leave Jimmy Kimmel dumbstruck.
I'll say this, for as ridiculous and inexcusable as it is to screw up something that's presumably as easy to read as the name above the larger number...twice, I can't help but feel like the right fighter came out on top of that confusion. I don't want to speak ill of this Elijah 'Young Snipes' Terrell character, but when they say that you should be just as gracious in victory as you are in defeat, they don't mean to be equally as overreactive after a win as you would be after a loss.
Hell, if anything, going from visible disappointment to extreme elation to undeniable dismay in a 10 second span during the announcing of the result is proof that the eventual loser may have been the worst for its wear. If he even remembered what happened during the fight that had literally just finished then he could have fooled me. For, in one schizophrenic display, he somehow embodied the reactions of all the prospective fathers on an unsolved pregnancy episode of Maury, as if the conception of a unanimous scorecard were as questionable as the pull-out method of contraception.
I know that judges can be unpredictable at times, but shouldn't someone competing in a combat sport have some idea of how he fared? Going from "aw shucks" to "YEAH! THAT'S RIGHT!" to "wha-WHAT?!" just seems a bit disingenuous from a self evaluation perspective. Therefore I'd bet my Starbucks that David 'The Coffee Boss' Booker had a much better command of a fight that he straight up laughed at the judgement that he lost.
A Coach In The National Women's Soccer League Was Suspended For Rubbing Dirt In An Official's Hand Following A Game
Unprofessional, to say the least. Irresponsible, to say the most. I just can't help but wonder when we are going to start holding the authority figures in sports accountable for their own actions? I mean, can you even imagine being an adult male that's childish enough to...fall for the old dirty handshake trick?!?
I mean, goodness gracious, can we get just a little bit of culpability? What kind of naive sucker is out there blindly shaking hands with people who clearly feel wronged by them? Granted, I personally wouldn't go digging through the playing surface in an effort to send an extremely immature message to a official when my role encourages me to lead by example. However, the only person who should be receiving supplemental discipline is the guy soiling his pants over his soiled palm. Sometimes you just have to wipe your hands clean of a well-executed, albeit wildly necessary and insanely juvenile, prank and tip your cap. If for no other reason then because taking the high road and laughing it off would have avoided this preposterously embarrassing story from doing a disservice to the legitimacy of women's sports by being the first and potentially last I've heard from the NWSL.
Reigning Masters Winner Sergio Garcia Put Up A Baker's Dozen On The 15th Hole After Sinking 5 Straight Balls In The Water
Feel free to call it an implosion. After all, in attempting to continue his reign at Augusta, Sergio Garcia put an entire fist full of balls into the same body of water while tying the record for the worst single hole performance in the history of a ridiculously prestigious event. To put it lightly, going from +2 to +10 in the blink of an eye is not your average, every day, run of the mill over-par.
That said, I think I'd consider it a blessing in a really, really, really good disguise. I mean, if you're going to cut short your chances of repeating then you might as well just rip the band-aid off. Flushing all the optimism down the toilet at once is the most efficient way I have found to enjoy an underwhelming day out on the links. It's entirely possible that Sergio Garcia just became the most relatable player on tour simply by rapidly sabotaging the entirety of a round in a fashion that was almost more intriguing than it was embarrassing. I'm sure he would have loved to remain competitive, but the one benefit to tying a cinderblock to your ball and leaving your odds of making the cut resting at the bottom of a newly crowded water hazard is that it allows you to play pressure-free golf.
I'm fairly certain the following is frowned upon, but if I were him I would get a nice buzz on and come out to play the second half of the 36 with a smile on my face and a green jacket on my back. There's something to be said about being able to ride out his last 18 holes as the Masters champ without a care in the world, and that "something" loosely translates to whatever Sergio Garcia was thinking when he showed up to Wimbledon dressed like this...
Tony Finau Got A Hole-In-One During A Par 3 Contest, Dislocated His Ankle Celebrating, And Was At Risk Of Having To Drop Out Of The Masters
Oh Tony. Tony, Tony, Tony. You just have to smarter than that, my man. It's never in one's best interest to tempt the golf gods with celebratory displays that are unbecoming of a gentleman's sport, but high-stepping all over the hallowed grounds of Augusta? He might have as well have been two-stepping on the graves of the legends that came, saw, conquered, and calmly fist-pumped before him on one of the most prestigious courses in all the land. Of course, I'd be liable to pull my dick out if - by the grace of blind luck - I got a hole-in-one on so much as a pitch-and-putt, but every time I step up to a tee I'm close to buzzed and far outside the jurisdiction of the PGA's holiest of thou.
To be honest, I'm a little surprised that the all-seeing-eye of Augusta sent nothing more than the turf monster to do his dirty work in forcing a wince-worthy misstep that Tony Finau somehow feels comfortable playing through. I would have thought that his 'Neon Deion' impersonation would have landed him a spiteful lightning strike, a la Caddy Shack. I guess the greenest of grass and the most glorious of weeks had the golf gods feeling generous, because limping through 36 holes is the least one can do after breaking the most conscientious of codes of conduct. Let that be a warning to Tony Finau that his individualistic dance moves will not be tolerated, or - more importantly - let it serve as a reminder to tie his shoes a little tighter before sprinting backwards in the non-athletic wear of tight white pants.