A Modest Proposal: Ban the Forward Pass

Dear Mr. Goodell,

Greetings, and congratulations on nearing the start of what is sure to be another ultra-successful season in that sports-entertainment-business juggernaut, the National Football League. I am sure that when it is all said and done, it will be another money-making endeavor for you. I have become aware, however, that you are concerned with the reputation of the League vis-a-vis the players who make up said League. It seems that every other week, a new story comes out about a football star driving drunk/possessing a controlled substance/shooting someone/shooting their own leg.

Hence, it is as a public service to you, but more so, to the game that I love, that I propose a remedy to the "image problem" of the NFL. Ban the Forward Pass.

Think about it: How many of the image problems are caused by those mobile soap operas known as wide receivers? How many more are caused by that specialist in covering wide receivers, Adam (Don't Call Me Pacman) Jones?

A brief rundown of all the incidents involving WRs (we'll leave the Pac alone this time) in the past few years:

Most recently, and seemingly innocuous enough, Chad Ochocinco (nee Johnson) announced that goddamnit, his fans need to know his thoughts during football games, so he would be tweeting during games. Innocuous? Probably. Obnoxious? No more so than renaming yourself "Ochocinco" because the NFL won't otherwise put it on the back of your jersey.

March 14, 2009: Browns WR Donte' Stallworth kills a 59-year-old pedestrian while driving home drunk from a hotel party with at least one other wide receiver (Braylon Edwards) in attendance. (By the way, he says he didn't "feel drunk".)

November 28, 2008: The widely-known, fuckin' awesome incident where Giants WR Plaxico Burress shoots himself in the leg at a nightclub with an unregistered handgun that had apparently fallen from the waistband of his sweatpants.

Terrell Owens. Oh, Terrell Owens. The overdose of hydrocordone? Pouting because the Eagles didn't do enough to celebrate your 100th career TD? Spitting in DeAngelo Hall's face? The sabotaging of several teams and seasons? The burning every bridge as you're crossing it?

Likewise, Brandon Marshall appears to be a walking domestic assault and drunk-driving machine, with arrests in March 2009, June 2008, March 2008, October 2007, March 2007, and Halloween 2004.

Wide Receiver Matt Jones was arrested in July of last year when found in possession of 6 grams of cocaine.

Randy Moss ran over a traffic control cop.

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

So, Mr. Goodell, I know that it may make the games less explosive, but it will lower your blood pressure. For the sake of pedestrians/motorists/potential spouses in every city that boasts an NFL franchise, do the communities a favor. Ban the forward pass.

Legs on Post-Post-Neo-Reverse-Racism

Continuing our coverage of the ridiculous state of intelligent sporting analysis by ESPN, I present you with a little nugget, nay, a shimmering gem of a clip of Tim Legler waxing reverse-racism on the Mike and Mike ESPN Radio Show:

Of course the Pierre Page believes Timothy Eugene "Legs" Legler to be a very athletic and elite man, but we'd certainly LOVE to see that bell-hop blow him right out his half-top Reeboks and Dep Styling Product. We too understand what it must feel like to be undrafted, underappreciated and under-valued for ten-ish seasons (some of us were under-appreciated high school JV tennis players), probably for the same reasons Hansbrough was drafted at 13: not athletic enough, not black enough, not Larry Bird.

It's so damn obvious Hansbrough won't be as dominant in the NBA as he was in college. It has nothing to do with being white, he's just no where near as athletic as most employed NBA forwards. Definitely not as athletic as Teen Wolf, who may have gone number one over-all this year if it weren't for his championing of wolfing in moderation.

A Brief Comparison of Hansbrough and Teen

1. Teen can play center in the NBA. Hansbrough can't. He's not big enough regardless of what people say about his intangible "big" play. Big play, as defined by Teen Wolf, is trouncing the opposing squad with complete disregard for family secrets.

2. Teen can play the point. Hansbrough has Dwight Howard-like finesse. See my previous post An Open Letter to Dwight Howard.

3. Teen can play forward even with Chubby chewing an Almond Joy mid-court. I'm not convinced T to the Y could have the same effect on a squad of the 5 worst draft picks in the past 10 years. The Big Two: Stromile Swift and Hansbrough Win 3rd NBA Title.

Nah.

Instead, I'm thinking T-Hans is more of an off-the-bench forward; an energizer. Teen defined the role of energizer so not like that, more like a Lisa "Boof" Marconi or a Rupert "Stiles" Stilinski, keeping the bleachers stylish and in stitches. Plus, on a team that already has a few Mick McAllister's in Danny Granger, Troy Murphy and Mike Dunleavy, someone's gotta be jivin' the bench.

So c'mon Legs, lighten up, questioning athleticism (white, black or Turkish) is kind of the point of the draft, no? If we just went on stats, accolades and intangibles from college, high school and Euro leagues, the Nuggets should have one damn good white player in Nikoloz Tskitishvili who, by the way, was picked over Nene, Amare Stoudamire AND Caron Butler! Just be happy you got your own Pamela Wells, or many of them, and let the racial politics be.

Drinking the Kool-Aid

So the NBA Draft happened, despite the death of the King of Pop. (As an aside, how pissed off is Farrah Fawcett's ghost right now? All people will say is "Oh yeah, she died on the same day as Michael Jackson, right?" until, oh, the apocalypse.) And a funny thing happened: all of the sudden, I can't go through a 30-minute ESPNews cycle without hearing a bunch of talk about our local cagers. There are two reactions to the T-Wolves draft that seem to be prevalent:

1. What the fuck was David Kahn thinking?
2. What the fuck was David Kahn thinking?

This, in response to Kahn taking two point guards with the numbers 5 and 6 overall picks. (Also, some advice for Kevin Love: maybe it's time to close the Twitter account.) It should come as no surprise to both of the Pierre Page's regular readers that I am ecstatic about how the draft turned out for the Wolves.

The prevailing sentiment leading up to the draft was that Kahn wanted two of these three players with his two top picks: Ricky Rubio, Tyreke Evans and Hasheem Thabeet. When Thabeet and then Evans got taken, Kahn jumped on Rubio like a Spaniard jumping on a poor photo-op decision. Then the baffling part: immediately afterwards, Kahn took Jonny Flynn, another point guard, this one decidedly less shaggy and less Spanish. Immediately, Jay Bilas et al started speculating about a deal in the works to get rid of one of the two, and fairly so: both Flynn and Rubio are pure point guards, so keeping both of them seems a bit silly.

Here's why I love the Timberwolves' draft strategy: right away, Rubio said he may not play in the NBA next season, if the Wolves keep him (instead of trading him to a bigger-market team). Say he stays in Spain, or goes to Turkey. The Wolves can keep his rights, and Kahn has made it clear he's building for about 2011-12. So let him go play. We can find out if Flynn is an NBA starter-caliber point guard. If he is, and I think he is, that puts leverage with Kahn and the Wolves. They can say, "Look, as an organization, we're doing just fine with Flynn, we're happy with him, etc." and wait for an exceptional deal for either Flynn or Rubio. And exceptional deals are out there: according to Kahn, one executive has already called him and offered one "untouchable" player on his roster, plus two other players, in exchange for the rights to Rubio.

Then, as a bonus, he takes Ty Lawson (another PG), with their 18th pick, trades him to the Nuggets for a future draft pick, but it's one that originally belonged to the perpetually awful Charlotte Bobcats. Beautiful. My man boner is officially cemented.

I think Kahn is a genius right now. Perhaps it's the reflected glow of simply not being Kevin McHale. (As an aside, I wish people would just stop saying that Glen Taylor wanted someone else more, and settled on Kahn after all other options fell through. This is the same Glen Taylor that had reiterated, with every shred of evidence to the contrary, that McHale was doing a great job, year in and year out. Just shut up already.)

I'm Glad I'm Not Mark Sanford

I know this is a sports blog, but if you're bored, and want an entertaining read, check out Columbia, SC newspaper The State's article detailing emails between Mark Sanford and his Argentinian mistress here. My favorite part is how he keeps on promising to send her the DVD of the shitty 2006 romantic comedy "The Holiday". Priceless.

The Pierre Page has learned that the 2009 NBA Draft will be taking place this very evening. We have also learned that our favorite never-rans, the Minnesota Timberwolves, have 1-2-3-4! first round draft picks after having dealt a couple of players to Flip Saunders' new team, the Washington Bullets. It almost seems like David Kahn is intent on getting back the draft picks his predecessor gave away post-Joe Smith scandal all at once.

So will the Timberwolves actually end up with four new guaranteed contracts on their team this upcoming season? My money is on "No", even with Glen Taylor's seemingly endless supply of Good Money thrown after Bad (see: Wally Szczczzerbiak, Terrell Brandon, Troy Hudson, Marko Jaric). As stated before, the Page has a distinct pro-Spaniard, pro-shaggy hair bias that leads us to believe that the best fit for this franchise is one Ricardo Rubio of Spain, Brandon Jennings' opinion notwithstanding. I think when this draft is looked back on in a few years, it will be unanimous that Rubio was the best player. Find a way to make it happen, Kahnsy.

Need a Birthday/Holiday Gift for the Packer Fan in your Life?

Is this one of those new irony-wicking t-shirts that Nike has been developing?

(Photo courtesy of Michael Rand @ Randball)

Dallas Mavericks Uber Alles

ESPN is reporting that Dallas Mavericks star Dirk Nowitzki has filed for sole custody of the child of Crystal Taylor (pictured in her mug shot above), provided a Maury-style paternity test proves he is the "vater". That's right, she has a mugshot, arrested for allegedly not paying for something like $11,000 worth of dental bills. My question directly to the uber-kraut is this: do you understand what it means to be an NBA player, let alone a superstar? It means you don't have to settle for some buster who has been roughed up pretty well with both the ugly stick and the crazy stick. I mean, have you seen Rony Seikaly's wife, for Got's sake? Or mediocre pitcher Kris Benson's wife? You can do better, even if you don't play defense and won't ever win a title.

The Pierre Page: Live from Wrigley Field

Check out our live tweets from the Twins/Cubs game at Wrigley Field today:

http://www.twitter.com/Curdy21

Open Letter to Dwight Howard

Dear Mr. Self-appointed Super Man,

Congratulations on reaching the NBA finals. You and your team have worked hard this year and over the past couple years to turn the Orlando Magic franchise around, and you deserve respect for your basketball achievements. As you continue, however, to receive undisputed national media exposure, I find it very difficult not to respond to the endless amount of airtime you've been gifted.

It didn't take me long to conclude that you're the youthful, corporate, safe and malleable equivalent of The Admiral, David Robinson. Although he had a touch of class you don't, you display similar characteristics, which I imagine you'll take as a compliment, consistent with the Forrest Gump Complex; a kind of unaware bumbling through life, one "achievement" at a time, without ever stopping to think for yourself.

Instead of thinking for yourself, which you obviously believe you're doing, you rely on others to think for you. In your case it's the NBA, Disney, ABC and ESPN whom you allow to mold you into exactly what they want, a huge man who will, without question, go out and score 15-20 points, grab 20 rebounds and block a few shots, and, basically, whatever else they ask you; make them exponentially more wealthy and make a fool out of yourself. If you can find it, see for yourself Dwight singing Happy Mother's Day on national television.

Producer: No Dwight. That joke isn't funny. Ok? We told you once. If we have to tell you again, you're never gonna get that puppet. Clear?

Dwight: Yes sir. Thank you, sir.

Aren't you already a kind of puppet? I'm sorry, but if I asked anyone in the business of education if you are the type of person they'd want to be teaching their kids, what do you think they'd say? They would say hell no, Dwight. Hell. No. Well, maybe if they were appointed by the Bush administration.

My main beef with you is that you don't swear. I find that clean-cut, misguided christian rock flailing for spiritual purity, which you and many others police with a self-righteous, moral superiority over people of a "lesser" integrity, intolerable and frankly, stupid. It doesn't make any sense.

It is, however, complicit with every sort of conservative and liberal politician, religious leader and league official (all corporate executives) whom, in addition to abusing language to maintain power, like their information and their entertainment whitewashed of anything reminding them they're human: violence, sex, music, etc. Why? Because they get paid. Just like you.

And people buy their products because they're easy and do not challenge anything or anyone. All things major corporations would like us to forget about because if we knew the lengths to which they go to make a profit, we wouldn't buy their shit.

I really don't need another one of those footsteps posters. No really, I don't.

Meanwhile, Lebron - arguably the most charismatic and likeable superstar in the NBA besides Kevin Garnett - is sadly out of the playoffs. So now we're left all alone with Kobe Bryant and you. No wonder the NBA, Disney, ESPN and ABC would choose, hands down, Dwight Howard as the face for their franchise's "undermining the notion of nobility" mission:

to be one of the world's leading producers and providers of entertainment and information. Using our portfolio of brands to differentiate our content, services and consumer products, we seek to develop the most creative, innovative and profitable entertainment experiences and related products in the world,

you've never been charged with rape.

And you'll hop on board without even a touch of self-integrity or critical imagination, which is probably why it was an ethical dilemma for Jim Brown to show up at one of your games in Cleveland. He, on the other hand, doesn't recognize the eleventh commandment which reads, thou shalt religiously vote against the interests of thyself.

If you had any idea what Walt Disney was like as a human being, man, you would know that you are working for one of the most traditionally race-based and evangelical value-based organizations this side of the KKK. If you even had one person around you who was not in awe by your size and net-worth, you might know this and we wouldn't have to put up with your commercials and PR spots.

Plus, Lebron, KG and Dwayne Wade are pretty classy fellows. They all have the intellectual faculties to analyze situations and move quickly. I'm not convinced you do, which is why my most urgent questions to you are: why is it good to tow conservative, corporate and religious lines with the blind faith of a lemming? Why is it GOOD not to swear? What is good about faith? Just watch this video of yourself again:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Glnof6chKbU

First off: could you really make that shot? Second off: are you serious?

To be completely honest, Dwight, I do not have any problems with you as a person. I have never met you. Instead, I have a problem with everything you stand for and the people that you willingly represent. You are an example. I feel responsible as an American to say something about you, fellow American, who happens to be representing me on the world stage as a model of American citizenship.

And from here, you seem to embody the same brand loyalty a Best Buy cell phone douche personifies; the thoughtless consumerism of the perfect customer. This is a pandemic as far as I'm concerned and it seems, to me, that you are just another zombie chasing Michael Jordan's Hanes. By saying something, I'm doing you a favor. I hope I'm wrong.

Sincerely,

The Jesus Formerly Known as AC Green

P.S. Wouldn't God have turned himself in for that goal tend? You reached through the hoop, man.

Best Video Game Athlete Ever?

A couple of friends and I were debating this last weekend, so fair readers of the Pierre Page, without any high-falutin rhetorical introduction, I pose a question to you:

Who is the greatest video game athlete of all time?

My personal vote is for Tecmo Bowl's Lawrence Taylor, but that's just me. If you were playing against Lawrence Taylor, and somehow managed to score a touchdown, you knew the extra point was going to be blocked. You couldn't kick field goals, you couldn't do much against his Coked-Up Highness. So that's my vote. What do you say?

Be Home Blyleven (No Longer a Question)

It has been well covered in the Minneapolis/St. Paul media, and perhaps elsewhere (Holland, perhaps?) that Bert Blyleven belongs in the Baseball Hall of Fame. His Cooperstown-worthy credentials:

685 career starts (and 4970 innings pitched), 287 wins (26th all-time), 242 complete games, 60 shutouts, 3701 strikeouts (5th all time)

So our favorite Flying Dutchman belongs in the Hall of Fame. Great, because you know somewhere he doesn't belong anymore? The broadcast booth, next to Dick Bremer. And no, it's not about being "circled", and I'm not talking about this embarassing little mishap, either:


I'm not going to sit here and pretend I've watched every Twins game since Bert became the color commentator in 1996. I haven't even watched the majority, but I have seen hundreds, enough to know this:

If I have to listen to him drone on and on for and inning and a half about pitch counts, and the lack of starting pitchers who can go more than 6 innings, and how much better things were in the good old days, I am going to find something sharp and jab it into my ears repeatedly. In case you don't know of what I speak, the scenario usually plays out something like this.

The Twins' or their opponents' starting pitcher will be either a)struggling or b)pitching well. (That's right, this commentary can find its way into the broadcast no matter how the pitchers are performing.) As the pitcher in question gets near 70 or 80 or 100 pitches thrown in his great/awful start, Bert will start to lament the increased role pitch counts play in Major League Baseball. He will compare pitchers now to pitchers of the past, when men were men and ladies were too. He will point out that it puts added pressure on bullpens (and occasionally, will wax poetic about how bullpens were wholly unnecessary places not far removed from sanitaria back in baseball's golden era).

I understand that as a man with 242 complete games in his career, this is a troublesome and lamentable development in baseball. Hell, he probably has a legitimate concern. I also understand that with 162 games a year they have to cover, at 3+ hours per game, eventually you run out of things to talk about. You know what good color commentators do, though? They go and talk to the players, coaches, fans, hangers-on, et cetera and find new stories to discuss. Or they use their expertise about the game they are covering to provide some insight as to what might be making a particular player effective or ineffective. They do not recycle the same bits for fourteen (!) seasons.

What say you, loyal readers, am I way off base on this one?

The Wonderful World Of Craig Sager

I wonder what Craig Sager wore under his purple graduation gown from Northwestern in 1973? With his impeccable taste for fashion and the hip styles of Chicago 73', I imagine it looked something like a cross between Ron Howard in AMERICAN GRAFFITI and the pinup star of the February 73' issue of Tiger Beat, Rick Springfield (I wonder if he was in the magazine for Jessie's Girl or General Hospital).

I found some great nuggets on Wikipedia when I was preparing my first post on The Pierre Page about my new found favorite sportscaster(Sorry Kristen Aldrige and Bob Costas). In addition to serving as Willie The Wildcat, Craig's wife Stacey is a former NBA Dancer and his son from his first wife, Craig Jr. is a wide receiver for the Georgia Bulldogs.

Now let's get to the juice of my amazement with Craig Sager. I am not the biggest sports buff in the world, hell, if the team is not based in Minnesota I probably don't know who their coach is, and my knowledge of sports history is even less. Yet each time during these incredible NBA Playoffs (is it really 40 games in 40 nights? I really like the song 40 days & 40 fights by Badly Drawn Boy) I find myself waiting with excitement to see what Craig is going to be wearing. When Phil Jackson made a comment about one of Craig's suits in the halftime interview early in May, I started to take notice. Who is this man and what goes through his mind when picking out his suit?. Little did I know, Craig Sager's suits are a piece of sports history, and will continue to be so as long as he is courtside.




Let's take a look at a few of the gems and figure out what went through his mind when putting them on:

It looks like Craig might have caught a glimpse of Jan Terry on public access, ran to her house, took the costume from the video for "Journey To Mars" and then forgot what he was doing in the first place.













This suit, I shit you not, actually emanates weapons grade plutonium. Where the fuck was this suit when Doc was trying to escape the Libyan's?




















I feel that one of Craig's favorite colors must be yellow. Here, he studs this amazing mustard pin stripe. But take a closer look at those shoes. I feel like he was walking down the street in Branson, MI and saw these goldmines in a window. "Must have mustard snake skin shoes. Shit, I only have $145 left on my monthly suit rations, how can I make a quick buck here? Hmmm, dark alleyway down the street..."
















And finally, my personal favorite. This jacket looks like it has that paint job you can get for your car, you know, where it changes color as it drives by. This jacket is a gift for the photographer, each angle it changes colors slightly, so no 2 photos are ever the same. Again though, Craig takes all aspects into consideration, and goes for the 70's pornstar or coke dealer look (although those 2 looks are sorta the same, no?) for his shoes. The way he sports the coat is classic enough, but add in the amazing white shoes and pants look with the trebid orange button up shirt, and you have a classic in my book.