Detroit Pistons head coach Stan VanGundy constantly rails against officials during the course of a game. What he needs to realize is his team basically stinks. Sure, they're clinging to the last playoff spot in the otherwise pitifully weak Eastern Conference. But if things stay like they are, that will get them a first round playoff date against the defending world champion Cleveland Cavaliers. Well, good luck with that. Shut up, Stan.
See Piston Andre Drummond reaping the ridiculous rewards of a max contract. See Andre shoot free-throws a little worse than a blind man tripping on LSD. See Andre go over the top of a defender from the backside after a rebound, mauling him in the process, then whine because he got called for the obvious foul. Shut up, Andre.
See Chris Paul and LA Clipper teammate DeAndre Jordan continue to rake in mega-bucks from making moronic TV commercials. They're already both millionaires many times over. Now they have to go on national TV and made idiots of themselves in quest for a few more bucks they don't need?
See Jordan shoot free throws maybe just a tad better than Drummond mentioned above, which still falls in the pitiful range. See Chris Paul, who has never been on a team that won squat in his entire life, and has a hard time even staying healthy enough to play these days, continue to think he's some sort of superstar. See the Clips about 15 games behind in their own division. If things stay like they are, see the Clips get bounced out of the playoffs early -- again -- in a likely second round match-up with either Golden State or San Antonio. I don't know what these clowns are trying to sell on TV, maybe insurance or something, but they need to shut up.
See the Detroit Red Wings, already floundering at the bottom of their conference, trading away many of their half-way decent players for future second-tier draft picks. Things are going to get much worse in the next few years. Any local kool-aided reporter that spins it otherwise needs to shut up.
See Danica Patrick continue to race in NASCAR. See Danica continue to trash $400,000 racing machines. Not just her own, but some of the other guys' as well. See Danica having never won a race. How would you like to be sponsoring that car wreck waiting to happen every week? Here's an idea for dear Danica. Win something. A NASCAR race. A Nationwide minor league race. A local go-kart competition. SOMETHING. This personal demolition derby and the hissy, foot-stomping fits got old a long time ago. And no serious race fan cares about the photo-shoots. It's not like she's got much to show off anyway. It's also somewhat surprising she didn't somehow manage to wreck the photographer's equipment while they were happening. In the meantime, yep, she needs to shut up. And one more thing. Stay the hell out of the way of the good drivers on the race track.
Uh-oh. The Masters golf tournament draws nigh. You just know the media lemmings are breathlessly awaiting the re-emergence of one Tiger Woods. Because of course he'll show up. Never mind he can't even seem to stay healthy enough to complete a couple rounds of golf these days, much less make a cut. The trumpets will sound when His Highness Eldrick makes his grand appearance at Augusta National. Let the thousands of replays from the past begin. Let the tera-bytes of adoration from the talking heads flow like Niagara Falls. Trot out the 70 virgins to be at his beck and call. (Hmm, on second thought, scratch that idea, he'd probably like it WAY too much). Hey, Woods isn't even in the top 500 golfers in the world any more. The competition is far more brutal these days than what he faced during his glory days. His chances of making the cut -- let alone winning another green jacket -- at the Masters are slimmer than Hillary being appointed Pope. These people need to accept the obvious. Stick a fork in him, Tiger's done. It's over. Has been for years. In the meantime, shut up with all the gaga goo-goo groupie stuff.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Tuesday, March 7, 2017
The siren song of the Patriots
No doubt, far more football fans across the country hate the New England Patriots than love them. Why? Because they just keep winning. Which means everybody else is losing. Other than maybe the San Antonio Spurs, has any pro team in any sport maintained such a high level of excellence for such a long time?
Know what yours truly finds admirable about both of them? Unlike so many other teams that feature "look at me" players, loud-mouthed coaches, and egotistical owners, the Spurs and Pats have always remained humble. Well, maybe that Gronk guy aside. Ahem.
Another thing is -- if a player doesn't adapt to their system, it doesn't matter how good he is. He's gone.
True, Tom Brady is likely the best quarterback in the history of the NFL -- sorry Montana junkies, but Brady's stats in every department eclipse those of Joe -- but he and coach Bill Bellichick have always gotten it done with "less".
We've seen many a Pro-Bowler play for the Patriots, then think he could jack them up for more money, only to discover he would be unceremoniously cut in short order. They'll go out and find somebody else, oftentimes someone many of us have never heard of -- and next thing you know -- the new guy turns out to be super-reliable, making one big play after another. Oftentimes, a Super Bowl ring awaits him at the end of the year.
In other words, it's their way or the highway -- good luck if you don't like it -- and don't let the door hit you on the way out. It's hard to dispute the success they have had over the years with this philosophy.
Randy Moss was once deemed a "problem child". Though a gifted receiver, he wasn't going to win anything with the teams he had played for. So he took less money to play for the Patriots. Guess what happened?
On to the present. The Pats are coming off yet another Super Bowl win. Tom Brady will be 40 years old before the next season starts, but his numbers in the last three years are better than anything Montana put up in HIS best three years, which were in his early 30s. And it's not a close call. Look it up for yourself.
Now consider a couple guys named Adrien Petersen and Brandon Marshall. AP has long played for the Minnesota Vikings, suffered through some devastating injuries, and will soon turn 32. He may still be in dynamite shape and capable of great things, but 32 is getting up there for a running back. Plus, he has ZERO chance of winning a Super Bowl with the Vikings. Forget that. They're not even in the conversation of serious contenders.
Wide receiver supreme Brandon Marshall has bounced around the league playing for a few teams over the years, but none of them had a serious shot of getting within sniffing distance of the Lombardi trophy. He'll turn 33 a couple days after Petersen's birthday. Hardly a spring chicken himself.
Both could probably go to any number of teams and make a pile of money. Thing is, both already HAVE enough money for a few lifetimes unless they get Mike Tysonish about it.
So why not think long and hard about going to the Patriots and accepting far less dough, but having a terrific chance of winning a Super Bowl in the twilight of their careers?
Though he may seem and think he's immortal and can play forever at a high level, Brady's not going to be around for much longer. Marshall would have to like the idea of Brady throwing passes in his direction. Yet he could also realize he needn't take a beating as the "go to" guy, like Calvin Johnson of the Detroit Lions once suffered.
Likewise with Petersen. He wouldn't have to carry the ball 30 times a game and suffer the punishment that would go along with it.
No, far from it. Both would merely be cogs in the greater diversified machine that has proven to be so successful for so long.
The Pats rely and insist on every single player doing his job and nobody is above the greater good of the team. Superstars and All-Pros come and mostly go, but the Pats march on.
True, neither Petersen nor Marshall would set any individual records (pad their stats) if they signed on to play for the Pats, but they'd have a very good shot at something they never did for all the years they've toiled away for on lesser teams elsewhere. The ring at the end of the rainbow.
That's assuming, of course, that Bill Bellichick would welcome them in the first place, no given. He doesn't need them and would obviously make do without -- because he always has. These players would have to convince the mad genius that they'll work hard, be smart about things, study, study, study, keep their noses clean off the field, and above all, accept less money for the PRIVILEGE of playing for the Patriots.
But they'd be crazy if they didn't at least give the possibility some serious consideration. After all, at this point in their careers, what do they have to lose?
Want to finally be a winner?
Get thee to Foxborough, hat in hand, and ask nice.
It just might happen....
Know what yours truly finds admirable about both of them? Unlike so many other teams that feature "look at me" players, loud-mouthed coaches, and egotistical owners, the Spurs and Pats have always remained humble. Well, maybe that Gronk guy aside. Ahem.
Another thing is -- if a player doesn't adapt to their system, it doesn't matter how good he is. He's gone.
True, Tom Brady is likely the best quarterback in the history of the NFL -- sorry Montana junkies, but Brady's stats in every department eclipse those of Joe -- but he and coach Bill Bellichick have always gotten it done with "less".
We've seen many a Pro-Bowler play for the Patriots, then think he could jack them up for more money, only to discover he would be unceremoniously cut in short order. They'll go out and find somebody else, oftentimes someone many of us have never heard of -- and next thing you know -- the new guy turns out to be super-reliable, making one big play after another. Oftentimes, a Super Bowl ring awaits him at the end of the year.
In other words, it's their way or the highway -- good luck if you don't like it -- and don't let the door hit you on the way out. It's hard to dispute the success they have had over the years with this philosophy.
Randy Moss was once deemed a "problem child". Though a gifted receiver, he wasn't going to win anything with the teams he had played for. So he took less money to play for the Patriots. Guess what happened?
On to the present. The Pats are coming off yet another Super Bowl win. Tom Brady will be 40 years old before the next season starts, but his numbers in the last three years are better than anything Montana put up in HIS best three years, which were in his early 30s. And it's not a close call. Look it up for yourself.
Now consider a couple guys named Adrien Petersen and Brandon Marshall. AP has long played for the Minnesota Vikings, suffered through some devastating injuries, and will soon turn 32. He may still be in dynamite shape and capable of great things, but 32 is getting up there for a running back. Plus, he has ZERO chance of winning a Super Bowl with the Vikings. Forget that. They're not even in the conversation of serious contenders.
Wide receiver supreme Brandon Marshall has bounced around the league playing for a few teams over the years, but none of them had a serious shot of getting within sniffing distance of the Lombardi trophy. He'll turn 33 a couple days after Petersen's birthday. Hardly a spring chicken himself.
Both could probably go to any number of teams and make a pile of money. Thing is, both already HAVE enough money for a few lifetimes unless they get Mike Tysonish about it.
So why not think long and hard about going to the Patriots and accepting far less dough, but having a terrific chance of winning a Super Bowl in the twilight of their careers?
Though he may seem and think he's immortal and can play forever at a high level, Brady's not going to be around for much longer. Marshall would have to like the idea of Brady throwing passes in his direction. Yet he could also realize he needn't take a beating as the "go to" guy, like Calvin Johnson of the Detroit Lions once suffered.
Likewise with Petersen. He wouldn't have to carry the ball 30 times a game and suffer the punishment that would go along with it.
No, far from it. Both would merely be cogs in the greater diversified machine that has proven to be so successful for so long.
The Pats rely and insist on every single player doing his job and nobody is above the greater good of the team. Superstars and All-Pros come and mostly go, but the Pats march on.
True, neither Petersen nor Marshall would set any individual records (pad their stats) if they signed on to play for the Pats, but they'd have a very good shot at something they never did for all the years they've toiled away for on lesser teams elsewhere. The ring at the end of the rainbow.
That's assuming, of course, that Bill Bellichick would welcome them in the first place, no given. He doesn't need them and would obviously make do without -- because he always has. These players would have to convince the mad genius that they'll work hard, be smart about things, study, study, study, keep their noses clean off the field, and above all, accept less money for the PRIVILEGE of playing for the Patriots.
But they'd be crazy if they didn't at least give the possibility some serious consideration. After all, at this point in their careers, what do they have to lose?
Want to finally be a winner?
Get thee to Foxborough, hat in hand, and ask nice.
It just might happen....
Monday, March 6, 2017
UConn wrecking machine rolls on
The good news for South Florida was they outscored the UConn girls 11-7 in the fourth quarter.
The bad news was -- they were already trailing by sixty points. SIXTY!!
Idle thought: Why does South Florida insist on calling a ladies' team the "Bulls"? How much since does that make? "Lady Bulls" would be even more oxymoronic. Then again, as the bovine family goes, perhaps it's better than "Cows". That probably wouldn't work out so well. The udder ridiculousness of it all. Sorry. Ahem.
South Florida isn't a bad team in the whole scheme of things. They're within the Top 25 in the entire country. Lots of other schools likely wish they could lay claim to that. But they've just got to hate it when UConn pops up on their schedule, being in the same conference and all.
In the first game this season UConn put a gawd-awful 102-37 beatdown on them. Sixty five points worth. In the rematch at USF, the Bulls only lost by a relatively mere 28 points -- 96-68. Still, when you get clobbered in your own building by that amount, it has to be discouraging.
On to the conference tournament for Game 3, mentioned at the top of this article. A 100-44 thrashing. Chalk up another 56 point differential. And it likely could have been a lot worse if UConn hadn't yanked most of their starters after the third quarter.
At that time, the Bulls found themselves on the horns of a dilemma. Oops, there went another stupid pun. Sorry. Do you leave your own already gassed starters in to try and made the final outcome a little more respectable against the other team's second unit? (Which, BTW, might be better than anything you have anyway). Or do you send in your own scrubs and watch the score become even more preposterous?
At any rate, the two teams have played three times this year and adding up the cumulative scores results in 298-149. A 149 point difference, or pretty close to fifty points a game. That's a bunch, to say the least.
If it all seems unfair, perhaps it is in a sense, given the obvious disparity in talent and, yes, coaching we've witnessed between the two of them. But that's a tough argument to make for a few reasons. Like any other college, both UConn and USF recruit from the same prep talent pool, both nationally and abroad. Both can only put five players on the floor at any one time. And so far, no "Caitlyn" types have been allowed in women's college hoops. X chromosomes only, thank you very much, but who knows when that might change? After that, it gets pretty simple. Whoever scores the most points -- wins. Some just appear to be light years better at it than others.
The larger question is thus -- Is there anybody out there that can possibly knock off the UConn express when the NCAA tourney rolls around shortly? If they stay healthy and play up to their capabilities, the answer is likely a resounding NO.
But one never knows. Even though UConn will be prohibitive favorites to march on to a fifth consecutive national title and remain on the longest winning streak of any team ever in ANY sport -- it has to end sometime -- right?
Could somebody like Notre Dame, Maryland, Stanford, or Baylor ambush them in the tournament? Possibly. How about Florida State? In the first game this season, they only lost to the Lady Huskies by a mere 2 points before the express got rolling. The Seminoles KNOW they can play with them. Question is -- could they get over the formidable hump and actually BEAT them if they get a crack at them in the tourney? Hard to say.
One thing for sure. Given the 11 national championships that Geno Auriemma and his teams have already racked up, including the last four in a row and the current winning streak they're on, and the absolute hammerings they put on so many otherwise good teams, it would also be difficult to argue this isn't the greatest dynasty the world of sports has ever seen. Let's get real. If this was a boys team, the talking heads and other media would have gone berserk blathering on about them long ago, and would be ranting to this day. But it's "only" the girls, so they continue to mostly fly under the radar. It's not right. Where's true equality when you need it?
Yet here's the thing. Even when they eventually lose, it will happen someday, if not this year, the five star blue-chip preps will continue to stand in line for the PRIVILEGE of playing for Geno and UConn in the foreseeable future. The old adage is absolutely true. Success breeds even more success.
And this beat is likely to keep going on for the foreseeable future.
Or at least until Auriemma decides to hang it up and retire. And he hasn't shown any signs of slowing down any time soon.
It really is something to behold.and never say "never", because this sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen in first place, given the "parity" the rule-makers continue to strive for.
But there's also a good chance we'll never see anything quite like it again.
So love them or hate them, they definitely deserve to be appreciated for what they've already accomplished and may well do much more of in the near future, if not longer.
The bad news was -- they were already trailing by sixty points. SIXTY!!
Idle thought: Why does South Florida insist on calling a ladies' team the "Bulls"? How much since does that make? "Lady Bulls" would be even more oxymoronic. Then again, as the bovine family goes, perhaps it's better than "Cows". That probably wouldn't work out so well. The udder ridiculousness of it all. Sorry. Ahem.
South Florida isn't a bad team in the whole scheme of things. They're within the Top 25 in the entire country. Lots of other schools likely wish they could lay claim to that. But they've just got to hate it when UConn pops up on their schedule, being in the same conference and all.
In the first game this season UConn put a gawd-awful 102-37 beatdown on them. Sixty five points worth. In the rematch at USF, the Bulls only lost by a relatively mere 28 points -- 96-68. Still, when you get clobbered in your own building by that amount, it has to be discouraging.
On to the conference tournament for Game 3, mentioned at the top of this article. A 100-44 thrashing. Chalk up another 56 point differential. And it likely could have been a lot worse if UConn hadn't yanked most of their starters after the third quarter.
At that time, the Bulls found themselves on the horns of a dilemma. Oops, there went another stupid pun. Sorry. Do you leave your own already gassed starters in to try and made the final outcome a little more respectable against the other team's second unit? (Which, BTW, might be better than anything you have anyway). Or do you send in your own scrubs and watch the score become even more preposterous?
At any rate, the two teams have played three times this year and adding up the cumulative scores results in 298-149. A 149 point difference, or pretty close to fifty points a game. That's a bunch, to say the least.
If it all seems unfair, perhaps it is in a sense, given the obvious disparity in talent and, yes, coaching we've witnessed between the two of them. But that's a tough argument to make for a few reasons. Like any other college, both UConn and USF recruit from the same prep talent pool, both nationally and abroad. Both can only put five players on the floor at any one time. And so far, no "Caitlyn" types have been allowed in women's college hoops. X chromosomes only, thank you very much, but who knows when that might change? After that, it gets pretty simple. Whoever scores the most points -- wins. Some just appear to be light years better at it than others.
The larger question is thus -- Is there anybody out there that can possibly knock off the UConn express when the NCAA tourney rolls around shortly? If they stay healthy and play up to their capabilities, the answer is likely a resounding NO.
But one never knows. Even though UConn will be prohibitive favorites to march on to a fifth consecutive national title and remain on the longest winning streak of any team ever in ANY sport -- it has to end sometime -- right?
Could somebody like Notre Dame, Maryland, Stanford, or Baylor ambush them in the tournament? Possibly. How about Florida State? In the first game this season, they only lost to the Lady Huskies by a mere 2 points before the express got rolling. The Seminoles KNOW they can play with them. Question is -- could they get over the formidable hump and actually BEAT them if they get a crack at them in the tourney? Hard to say.
One thing for sure. Given the 11 national championships that Geno Auriemma and his teams have already racked up, including the last four in a row and the current winning streak they're on, and the absolute hammerings they put on so many otherwise good teams, it would also be difficult to argue this isn't the greatest dynasty the world of sports has ever seen. Let's get real. If this was a boys team, the talking heads and other media would have gone berserk blathering on about them long ago, and would be ranting to this day. But it's "only" the girls, so they continue to mostly fly under the radar. It's not right. Where's true equality when you need it?
Yet here's the thing. Even when they eventually lose, it will happen someday, if not this year, the five star blue-chip preps will continue to stand in line for the PRIVILEGE of playing for Geno and UConn in the foreseeable future. The old adage is absolutely true. Success breeds even more success.
And this beat is likely to keep going on for the foreseeable future.
Or at least until Auriemma decides to hang it up and retire. And he hasn't shown any signs of slowing down any time soon.
It really is something to behold.and never say "never", because this sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen in first place, given the "parity" the rule-makers continue to strive for.
But there's also a good chance we'll never see anything quite like it again.
So love them or hate them, they definitely deserve to be appreciated for what they've already accomplished and may well do much more of in the near future, if not longer.
Sunday, March 5, 2017
The all-time best rivalry
This is certainly open to debate as many ferocious rivalries have existed over the years. Michigan/Ohio State, Alabama/Auburn, Celtics/Lakers, Yankees/RedSox, USC/UCLA, the trifecta of Florida/Florida St./Miami, Dems/Reps, FOX/MSNBC, and pretty much anybody that's had the dubious honor of ever having been hauled into divorce court. Yep, they can all get ugly and downright vicious.
But one stands clearly apart, and the statistics are astounding.
Duke/North Carolina men's hoops.
Consider, over the decades, both have won 5 NCAA national championships.
They've now played 98 games against each other and the series stands tied at 49-49.
The mind blower is that over all those 98 games, one team has scored 7605 total points, and the other 7606. Ninety eight games and a measly one point separating them?
Nobody can remember the last time either of them failed to qualify for the NCAA tournament. These two schools are excellent every year, and consistently rake in blue chip prep recruits to keep rolling on.
Duke has long had Mike Krzyzewski, Coach K at the helm, and he's among the all-time leaders in victories. Carolina now has Roy Williams, had Dean Smith forever before, and all are sure-fire Hall of Famers that will long be remembered for not only their coaching expertise, but running squeaky clean programs. Nary a hint of scandal over the decades. Admirable indeed.
Duke and UNC have certainly graduated more than their fair share of cagers either by bestowing degrees upon them or to the NBA to become instant millionaires.
Michael Jordan was a Tar Heel. He was loved by many, but hated by many more -- because he kicked so much butt in the NBA. The other guys and their fans no doubt had little fondness for him.
Christian Laettner was a Blue Devil. Somewhere, somebody loved him, but they've yet to come forward. Let's just say dear Chris wasn't the most popular guy, because he could get under the skins of rivals in a big way. Besides, a lot of people hate Christians today. Checked out the Middle East lately?
But between these two basketball dynamos, they committed an unspeakable blunder not long ago.
His name is Steph Curry, and he currently plays for the Golden State Warriors of the NBA.
Once upon a time, Steph grew up in Charlotte, not far from Durham and Chapel Hill where the Dukies and Heels reside -- just a few miles apart themselves.
Steph's daddy Dell played for the Charlotte Hornets.
Steph went to Charlotte Christian high school, where he was all-conference, all-state, and all-around lights out as a prep player.
He has since gone on to become the only unanimously selected MVP of the NBA, first broke the all-time season record for 3-point shots made in a season, broke it again, then absolutely shattered it a third time. Few would doubt he's at least a Top 5 player in the NBA.
So here's the question----
How, tell me HOW, did both Duke and North Carolina miss such a talent when it grew up and played high school hoops in both their proverbial backyards?
They didn't even make him an offer of any scholarship. Instead, Curry wound up at tiny Davidson, another North Carolina college, where he kept lighting it up.
Some say it was because Curry was too skinny. Well gee. When's the last time you saw a fat guy in the NBA not named Barkley?
And just what exactly does "too skinny" mean anyway? Manute Bol, all 7 foot 6 of him, weighed in at maybe 50 pounds, give or take a few. But he did OK for a while. Sadly, he died young at age 47. RIP.
Ever remember hearing of a guy named Chuck Nevitt? He played for a lot of NBA teams, but provided yours truly with a memorable experience one upon a time. The man was 7 foot 5 and a beanpole himself. You don't see guys like that walking around just every day.
So there I was in a grocery store, pushing my cart down the aisle in search of whatever cheap stuff I could find, and I saw a head bobbing along from the NEXT aisle over. Holy twilight zone!! What manner of weirdness is this? So of course I zoomed over there to check it out. It was Nevitt, just casually shopping himself. So I walked right up, looked him square in the navel and asked him if he was who I thought he was.
Probably so, came the response. And I think he signed a can of Del Monte peas for me if I remember correctly. Or maybe it was a box of mac and cheese. Turned out, neither one of us was exactly making mega-bucks at the time in our respective careers, else we wouldn't have been shopping at a cut-rate joint to begin with. But a nice guy, and I'll never forget that. By that time, his sheer height was drawing quite the crowd. Either that, or my dazzling good looks that radiated world-class charm. Yet I gave him the benefit of the doubt, as I quietly slipped away from the adoring masses.
Nonetheless, Duke and Carolina hoops have been and remain not only a hard fought rivalry, but over the decades it just doesn't get any more neck and neck than those two schools.
Parting thought -- And both their colors are blue and white.
Amazing....
But one stands clearly apart, and the statistics are astounding.
Duke/North Carolina men's hoops.
Consider, over the decades, both have won 5 NCAA national championships.
They've now played 98 games against each other and the series stands tied at 49-49.
The mind blower is that over all those 98 games, one team has scored 7605 total points, and the other 7606. Ninety eight games and a measly one point separating them?
Nobody can remember the last time either of them failed to qualify for the NCAA tournament. These two schools are excellent every year, and consistently rake in blue chip prep recruits to keep rolling on.
Duke has long had Mike Krzyzewski, Coach K at the helm, and he's among the all-time leaders in victories. Carolina now has Roy Williams, had Dean Smith forever before, and all are sure-fire Hall of Famers that will long be remembered for not only their coaching expertise, but running squeaky clean programs. Nary a hint of scandal over the decades. Admirable indeed.
Duke and UNC have certainly graduated more than their fair share of cagers either by bestowing degrees upon them or to the NBA to become instant millionaires.
Michael Jordan was a Tar Heel. He was loved by many, but hated by many more -- because he kicked so much butt in the NBA. The other guys and their fans no doubt had little fondness for him.
Christian Laettner was a Blue Devil. Somewhere, somebody loved him, but they've yet to come forward. Let's just say dear Chris wasn't the most popular guy, because he could get under the skins of rivals in a big way. Besides, a lot of people hate Christians today. Checked out the Middle East lately?
But between these two basketball dynamos, they committed an unspeakable blunder not long ago.
His name is Steph Curry, and he currently plays for the Golden State Warriors of the NBA.
Once upon a time, Steph grew up in Charlotte, not far from Durham and Chapel Hill where the Dukies and Heels reside -- just a few miles apart themselves.
Steph's daddy Dell played for the Charlotte Hornets.
Steph went to Charlotte Christian high school, where he was all-conference, all-state, and all-around lights out as a prep player.
He has since gone on to become the only unanimously selected MVP of the NBA, first broke the all-time season record for 3-point shots made in a season, broke it again, then absolutely shattered it a third time. Few would doubt he's at least a Top 5 player in the NBA.
So here's the question----
How, tell me HOW, did both Duke and North Carolina miss such a talent when it grew up and played high school hoops in both their proverbial backyards?
They didn't even make him an offer of any scholarship. Instead, Curry wound up at tiny Davidson, another North Carolina college, where he kept lighting it up.
Some say it was because Curry was too skinny. Well gee. When's the last time you saw a fat guy in the NBA not named Barkley?
And just what exactly does "too skinny" mean anyway? Manute Bol, all 7 foot 6 of him, weighed in at maybe 50 pounds, give or take a few. But he did OK for a while. Sadly, he died young at age 47. RIP.
Ever remember hearing of a guy named Chuck Nevitt? He played for a lot of NBA teams, but provided yours truly with a memorable experience one upon a time. The man was 7 foot 5 and a beanpole himself. You don't see guys like that walking around just every day.
So there I was in a grocery store, pushing my cart down the aisle in search of whatever cheap stuff I could find, and I saw a head bobbing along from the NEXT aisle over. Holy twilight zone!! What manner of weirdness is this? So of course I zoomed over there to check it out. It was Nevitt, just casually shopping himself. So I walked right up, looked him square in the navel and asked him if he was who I thought he was.
Probably so, came the response. And I think he signed a can of Del Monte peas for me if I remember correctly. Or maybe it was a box of mac and cheese. Turned out, neither one of us was exactly making mega-bucks at the time in our respective careers, else we wouldn't have been shopping at a cut-rate joint to begin with. But a nice guy, and I'll never forget that. By that time, his sheer height was drawing quite the crowd. Either that, or my dazzling good looks that radiated world-class charm. Yet I gave him the benefit of the doubt, as I quietly slipped away from the adoring masses.
Nonetheless, Duke and Carolina hoops have been and remain not only a hard fought rivalry, but over the decades it just doesn't get any more neck and neck than those two schools.
Parting thought -- And both their colors are blue and white.
Amazing....
Saturday, March 4, 2017
Renaming sports awards
Some of the names on awards annually given out are quite dopey if one stops to think about it.
Everybody's heard of the NHL's Stanley Cup. It was named after Sir Frederick Arthur Stanley, Lord of Preston and son of the Earl of Derby, Canadian blue-bloods of the 1800's. Old Stan bought it for about 50 bucks. He never played or coached a game in his life. So why does his name still belong on the most coveted trophy in all of hockey? How about renaming it the Howe or Gretzky Cup, true legends of the game?
College hoops fans put great store in the Wooden Award(s). True, John had his heyday at UCLA back in the 60's, but he's not even in the top 10 all-time winning coaches. Why not rename it the Knight, Krzyzewski, Williams, or even Boeheim Award? All those guys chalked up far more wins than Wooden in their careers.
What's truly laughable is there's a female version of a Wooden Award winner. Wooden never coached any girl's teams. Not long ago, it would have been appropriate to re-dub it the Pat Summit Award. She was the true pioneer in women's college hoops. But few would doubt Geno Auriemma will blow by her career win record shortly and continues to preside over the most dominant dynasty in the history of ALL sports. The formidable UConn Lady Huskies. They're on a 100+ game winning streak, have won the last four national titles, a whopping 11 overall, and are heavily favored to win a fifth in a row this year. So be proactive and get it over with. Geno's going to eventually set so many records so far out of sight that they'll never be approached again. Name this version of the Wooden trophy after him.
The best defensive college football player of the year gets the Chuck Bednarik trophy. True, Chucky was a great player. But he was also arguably the dirtiest one to ever play the game. He took pride in maiming opponents -- beating their brains out, as it were.
In today's politically correct world, not to mention the sensitivity to head injuries that continue to mount up, what's this guy doing with an award still named after him? Here's an idea. Rename it after a Detroit Lion defensive player -- pick one. They never hit anybody, except maybe that boy named Suh guy. And all he did was stomp on people after they were already down. A chip off the old Chuck blockhead. But any Stomper Award just doesn't sound right.
Super Bowl champs get the Lombardi Trophy, named after the late Vince, once head coach of the Green Bay Packers. But his crews only ever won two Super Bowls, the first two, when the competition wasn't nearly as brutal as it is today. So rename it after somebody who has won far more championships, five so far. The Bellichick Trophy.
Curious how the USA and Team Europe square off for the Ryder Cup in golf every couple years. Don't know the namesake of that bauble and am too lazy to look it up. But I hope it doesn't have anything to do with yellow self-rented moving trucks or anybody named Winona. Why not just get generic and call it the Pond Cup? Whoever's the best on either side of it that year -- wins.
Tennis has their Davis Cup. Evidently, Geena, Bette, Miles, and Sammy Jr. had meaner ground games than we ever knew. Not sure who to rename this cup after, These days all the men certainly wear them, lest Draymond Green comes rampaging out of the stands to deliver them a thunderous kick downstairs on the court for some mysterious reason -- and few of the women seem to need them upstairs. So why not just get rid of it and give the winners something they would appreciate much more? Like world-wide tax-free status on their earnings for a year.
NASCAR has long had its Cup, but they keep changing the name of it. Winston, Sprint, Monster, who knows what they'll come up with next? It's all about who will pony up the most money. NASCAR's got more money than they'll ever know what to do with. So why not rename it something even casual stock car racing fans could relate to? Like the Left Turn Cup. Or Roundy Round Cup. Or the Great American Waste of Sheet Metal Cup?
NBA champs are annually presented with the Larry O'Brien Award. O'Brien was a lifelong Democratic political operator whose office was broken into in the Watergate affair. He was also the "brains" behind the George McGovern presidential run of 1972. That election resulted in the most colossal landslide victory in the history of American presidential elections -- against his candidate. So just a couple years later some panel of geniuses decided to appoint him the Commissioner of the NBA, though he likely didn't know a basketball from a highball, an antiquated term, but O'Brien was an antiquated kind of guy. During his tenure, the league was rife with illegal drug usage speculation, labor unrest, and the popularity of the NBA sunk to all-time lows among the public. So naturally he had an award named after him. It's the American way. When you don't know what to do with one that has proven himself hopelessly incompetent at his present level -- give him a promotion.
Yet while the O'Brien Award remains laughable, the question remains as to who it would be better named after. Let's see. Who's been really successful in the NBA over the years? Michael Jordan? Arguably one of the best players ever, but a total flop ever since he got into the business side of basketball. Rule him out. Lebron James? Well, he seems to think he's king of everything roundball, but the last thing the world needs is to feed his ego even more. Nah. The late Red Auerbach certainly won a lot of titles with the Boston Celtics back in the day. But that was a bit too FAR back in the day to be relevant now. Phil Jackson won rings for every finger during his days in Chicago and LA, but he's since appeared to go a bit brain deader than your average Kardashian since taking over the Knicks. Probably not a good candidate. Pat Reilly? No, too greasy.
Hmmm. There must be somebody out there worthy of such an honor.
Eureka!! I have it.
Gregg Popovich, long of the San Antonio Spurs. They've not only won several titles under his guidance, but have forever remained humble, play the ultimate unselfish team basketball, never been even a whisper of any off-court troubles, and ya gotta love Coach Pop just because of how he has driven reporters absolutely crazy over the years with how he responds -- or doesn't -- in the interviews they continue to insist on.
Out with O'Brien and in with the Pop Award. Plus the very name -- "Pop" Award -- would resonate with the NBA marketing people. After all, folks like those at Coke and Pepsi would be climbing all over themselves throwing money at the league for the honor of being the "pop" behind such an accolade. Cha-ching. A win-win for the money grubbers once again.
And there you have it, boys and girls. It was as simple as Trump's cabinet picks all along.
Like Colonel Hannibal of the A-Team was so fond of saying ---
I love it when a plan comes together.
Everybody's heard of the NHL's Stanley Cup. It was named after Sir Frederick Arthur Stanley, Lord of Preston and son of the Earl of Derby, Canadian blue-bloods of the 1800's. Old Stan bought it for about 50 bucks. He never played or coached a game in his life. So why does his name still belong on the most coveted trophy in all of hockey? How about renaming it the Howe or Gretzky Cup, true legends of the game?
College hoops fans put great store in the Wooden Award(s). True, John had his heyday at UCLA back in the 60's, but he's not even in the top 10 all-time winning coaches. Why not rename it the Knight, Krzyzewski, Williams, or even Boeheim Award? All those guys chalked up far more wins than Wooden in their careers.
What's truly laughable is there's a female version of a Wooden Award winner. Wooden never coached any girl's teams. Not long ago, it would have been appropriate to re-dub it the Pat Summit Award. She was the true pioneer in women's college hoops. But few would doubt Geno Auriemma will blow by her career win record shortly and continues to preside over the most dominant dynasty in the history of ALL sports. The formidable UConn Lady Huskies. They're on a 100+ game winning streak, have won the last four national titles, a whopping 11 overall, and are heavily favored to win a fifth in a row this year. So be proactive and get it over with. Geno's going to eventually set so many records so far out of sight that they'll never be approached again. Name this version of the Wooden trophy after him.
The best defensive college football player of the year gets the Chuck Bednarik trophy. True, Chucky was a great player. But he was also arguably the dirtiest one to ever play the game. He took pride in maiming opponents -- beating their brains out, as it were.
In today's politically correct world, not to mention the sensitivity to head injuries that continue to mount up, what's this guy doing with an award still named after him? Here's an idea. Rename it after a Detroit Lion defensive player -- pick one. They never hit anybody, except maybe that boy named Suh guy. And all he did was stomp on people after they were already down. A chip off the old Chuck blockhead. But any Stomper Award just doesn't sound right.
Super Bowl champs get the Lombardi Trophy, named after the late Vince, once head coach of the Green Bay Packers. But his crews only ever won two Super Bowls, the first two, when the competition wasn't nearly as brutal as it is today. So rename it after somebody who has won far more championships, five so far. The Bellichick Trophy.
Curious how the USA and Team Europe square off for the Ryder Cup in golf every couple years. Don't know the namesake of that bauble and am too lazy to look it up. But I hope it doesn't have anything to do with yellow self-rented moving trucks or anybody named Winona. Why not just get generic and call it the Pond Cup? Whoever's the best on either side of it that year -- wins.
Tennis has their Davis Cup. Evidently, Geena, Bette, Miles, and Sammy Jr. had meaner ground games than we ever knew. Not sure who to rename this cup after, These days all the men certainly wear them, lest Draymond Green comes rampaging out of the stands to deliver them a thunderous kick downstairs on the court for some mysterious reason -- and few of the women seem to need them upstairs. So why not just get rid of it and give the winners something they would appreciate much more? Like world-wide tax-free status on their earnings for a year.
NASCAR has long had its Cup, but they keep changing the name of it. Winston, Sprint, Monster, who knows what they'll come up with next? It's all about who will pony up the most money. NASCAR's got more money than they'll ever know what to do with. So why not rename it something even casual stock car racing fans could relate to? Like the Left Turn Cup. Or Roundy Round Cup. Or the Great American Waste of Sheet Metal Cup?
NBA champs are annually presented with the Larry O'Brien Award. O'Brien was a lifelong Democratic political operator whose office was broken into in the Watergate affair. He was also the "brains" behind the George McGovern presidential run of 1972. That election resulted in the most colossal landslide victory in the history of American presidential elections -- against his candidate. So just a couple years later some panel of geniuses decided to appoint him the Commissioner of the NBA, though he likely didn't know a basketball from a highball, an antiquated term, but O'Brien was an antiquated kind of guy. During his tenure, the league was rife with illegal drug usage speculation, labor unrest, and the popularity of the NBA sunk to all-time lows among the public. So naturally he had an award named after him. It's the American way. When you don't know what to do with one that has proven himself hopelessly incompetent at his present level -- give him a promotion.
Yet while the O'Brien Award remains laughable, the question remains as to who it would be better named after. Let's see. Who's been really successful in the NBA over the years? Michael Jordan? Arguably one of the best players ever, but a total flop ever since he got into the business side of basketball. Rule him out. Lebron James? Well, he seems to think he's king of everything roundball, but the last thing the world needs is to feed his ego even more. Nah. The late Red Auerbach certainly won a lot of titles with the Boston Celtics back in the day. But that was a bit too FAR back in the day to be relevant now. Phil Jackson won rings for every finger during his days in Chicago and LA, but he's since appeared to go a bit brain deader than your average Kardashian since taking over the Knicks. Probably not a good candidate. Pat Reilly? No, too greasy.
Hmmm. There must be somebody out there worthy of such an honor.
Eureka!! I have it.
Gregg Popovich, long of the San Antonio Spurs. They've not only won several titles under his guidance, but have forever remained humble, play the ultimate unselfish team basketball, never been even a whisper of any off-court troubles, and ya gotta love Coach Pop just because of how he has driven reporters absolutely crazy over the years with how he responds -- or doesn't -- in the interviews they continue to insist on.
Out with O'Brien and in with the Pop Award. Plus the very name -- "Pop" Award -- would resonate with the NBA marketing people. After all, folks like those at Coke and Pepsi would be climbing all over themselves throwing money at the league for the honor of being the "pop" behind such an accolade. Cha-ching. A win-win for the money grubbers once again.
And there you have it, boys and girls. It was as simple as Trump's cabinet picks all along.
Like Colonel Hannibal of the A-Team was so fond of saying ---
I love it when a plan comes together.
Friday, March 3, 2017
What I'd love to see
Besides being a great player, arguably the best all time, actually, it appears that's not enough for one Lebron James. He has come to think of himself as some sort of head coach, general manager, and perhaps has delusions of being a part owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers.
In other words, LJ has assumed a definite sense of entitlement. He should be calling the shots, from top to bottom. Memo to Lebron -- "You're a player. You make obscene amounts of money. You've won a few championships. Shut up, know your place, and be happy."
This "King" thing has obviously gone to his head. Royalty he is definitely not, nor ever will be. So here's what I want to see..... Thousands of Lebron #23 jerseys are out there, having been purchased at ridiculous prices by the idiots with way too many dollars and not enough sense. Of course, the name "James" is emblazoned across the shoulder blades in the back. How to take him back down to the mere peasant he is? Simple. Get rid of the "James" thing, and replace it with "Jimmie". Get a few of those walking around town and the media will pick up on it in a hurry. Then maybe LJ will re-assume his rightful place as a basketball player only.
Kevin Durant of the Golden State Warriors is out indefinitely with a boo-boo to his left knee. There are those that think the Warriors will be better without him. These people obviously need to be heavily medicated. Of COURSE the team will be worse without him. He's their leading scorer and rebounder. Hello? Recently, Steph Curry and Klay Thompson have fallen into a shooting funk. The Warriors suddenly look very vulnerable. And let's not forget those pesky San Antonio Spurs have quietly remained closely on their heels for the best record all year. It's not out of the question they could surpass the Oakland crew for overall home-court advantage come playoff time. And it probably wouldn't be much of a stretch to say Coach Pop's boys would be a formidable opponent to ANYBODY given home court advantage. Good luck knocking those guys off if it plays out that way. Including the above-mentioned Lebron and Co.
But what do I really want to see when it comes to the Warriors? Simple. Some bench player from another team calmly walk up to Draymond Green while in the middle of a game -- and for no apparent good reason give him a thunderous kick in the groin. Of course said player would be ejected. Not a problem. Bring in the next guy off the end of the bench a few minutes later and repeat the procedure. That ought to take care of dear Draymond for a while and if anybody ever had it coming -- it's him. What goes around -- sometimes comes around. A couple of Richter scale moving thuds to the nether regions of Green and he'll get the idea. Don't do that stuff anymore to the other guys. Seems fair enough in a sort of language he would be sure to understand. Besides, Green has a habit of mouthing off to the press. How interesting would it be to see him give an interview while speaking as a soprano -- or -- better yet -- sounding like he just inhaled a couple helium balloons?
It didn't take long after owner Mike Ilitch's death for the Detroit Red Wings to start dumping players and salaries. Actually, this current rebuild has been long overdue. While barely sneaking into the playoffs in recent years, they haven't been serious contenders. It was a mirage. Now they will have a brand new sparkling arena called Little Caesar's to replace Joe Louis which was still entirely functional, but a few hundred million bucks, including a lot of tax-payer dollars went into it. And a team that will be terrible for the foreseeable future to put into it. Let's not forget the Detroit Pistons. Their owner Tom Gores inherited a wonderful world class facility in the Palace of Auburn Hills in the suburbs, put over $10 million into sprucing it up, then turned around and moved the team to downtown Detroit. How much sense did that make? BTW, the Pistons stink too, with no help in sight.
So here's what I'd love to see -- attendance plummet at the new bauble that was never necessary in the first place. Nobody show up. And why should they? To help out a couple billionaire owner families that feature cellar-dweller teams? At the exorbitant prices you just KNOW they'll continue to charge to see such garbage products?
Other things on my want to see bucket list.....
Charles Barkley, laughable swing and all, actually get a hole-in-one, then have it disqualified because he was swinging an illegal club. Oh my, imagine the world-class whine that would follow. Turrilble, just turrible.
After all the hype and uber-inane TV ads leading up to it -- see Michael Smith and Jemele Hill's ballyhooed new ESPN six o'clock jive fest crash and burn in the ratings, and the sooner the better. This entire format was targeted at the idiot demographic anyway.
San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick finally get a clue.
OJ Simpson be paroled from a ridiculous prison sentence to start with. This was never about justice. It was about payback for a crime a jury said he didn't commit. A travesty.
The NATIONAL Stock Car Racing organization (NASCAR) live up to it's own acronym. "National" means the USA. So no more Toyotas allowed. Let them develop their own circuit in Japan somewhere. And BTW, good riddance. America doesn't need them, nor ever did. A scourge on the domestic auto industry.
And last but not least, see Amazon get a book order right the first time. How many times should one have to select their choices, provide all the relevant info (credit card #, name, address, etc.) and have payment accepted and a delivery date guaranteed -- only to find out they screwed it up, payment is therefore denied, and one has to do it all over again? With the exact same info as the first time? Sometimes it takes them 4 or 5 tries. Who's in charge of this clown act anyway? And do they do it on purpose, just to see how much they can aggravate people?
That's just about as bad as the Detroit Lions baiting their own suckers every year with how good the team will be. And incredibly, they continue to bite. Fools. With me, it's been a few go-arounds with Amazon in the last couple days. The Honolulu blue and silver sappies have been drinking the same koolaid for over 50 years!! And keep paying more every season to do it.
So the ultimate might be the Lions actually, gasp, cough, gag, right, get to a Super Bowl. But that wouldn't work either. If they happened to actually pull that off and win the danged thing, they'd probably burn the whole town to the ground in the wacky way they seem to celebrate things in the Motor City. Best for them to keep falling short -- even if they don't realize it.
And nobody would really want to see Detroit go up in flames.
Would they?
In other words, LJ has assumed a definite sense of entitlement. He should be calling the shots, from top to bottom. Memo to Lebron -- "You're a player. You make obscene amounts of money. You've won a few championships. Shut up, know your place, and be happy."
This "King" thing has obviously gone to his head. Royalty he is definitely not, nor ever will be. So here's what I want to see..... Thousands of Lebron #23 jerseys are out there, having been purchased at ridiculous prices by the idiots with way too many dollars and not enough sense. Of course, the name "James" is emblazoned across the shoulder blades in the back. How to take him back down to the mere peasant he is? Simple. Get rid of the "James" thing, and replace it with "Jimmie". Get a few of those walking around town and the media will pick up on it in a hurry. Then maybe LJ will re-assume his rightful place as a basketball player only.
Kevin Durant of the Golden State Warriors is out indefinitely with a boo-boo to his left knee. There are those that think the Warriors will be better without him. These people obviously need to be heavily medicated. Of COURSE the team will be worse without him. He's their leading scorer and rebounder. Hello? Recently, Steph Curry and Klay Thompson have fallen into a shooting funk. The Warriors suddenly look very vulnerable. And let's not forget those pesky San Antonio Spurs have quietly remained closely on their heels for the best record all year. It's not out of the question they could surpass the Oakland crew for overall home-court advantage come playoff time. And it probably wouldn't be much of a stretch to say Coach Pop's boys would be a formidable opponent to ANYBODY given home court advantage. Good luck knocking those guys off if it plays out that way. Including the above-mentioned Lebron and Co.
But what do I really want to see when it comes to the Warriors? Simple. Some bench player from another team calmly walk up to Draymond Green while in the middle of a game -- and for no apparent good reason give him a thunderous kick in the groin. Of course said player would be ejected. Not a problem. Bring in the next guy off the end of the bench a few minutes later and repeat the procedure. That ought to take care of dear Draymond for a while and if anybody ever had it coming -- it's him. What goes around -- sometimes comes around. A couple of Richter scale moving thuds to the nether regions of Green and he'll get the idea. Don't do that stuff anymore to the other guys. Seems fair enough in a sort of language he would be sure to understand. Besides, Green has a habit of mouthing off to the press. How interesting would it be to see him give an interview while speaking as a soprano -- or -- better yet -- sounding like he just inhaled a couple helium balloons?
It didn't take long after owner Mike Ilitch's death for the Detroit Red Wings to start dumping players and salaries. Actually, this current rebuild has been long overdue. While barely sneaking into the playoffs in recent years, they haven't been serious contenders. It was a mirage. Now they will have a brand new sparkling arena called Little Caesar's to replace Joe Louis which was still entirely functional, but a few hundred million bucks, including a lot of tax-payer dollars went into it. And a team that will be terrible for the foreseeable future to put into it. Let's not forget the Detroit Pistons. Their owner Tom Gores inherited a wonderful world class facility in the Palace of Auburn Hills in the suburbs, put over $10 million into sprucing it up, then turned around and moved the team to downtown Detroit. How much sense did that make? BTW, the Pistons stink too, with no help in sight.
So here's what I'd love to see -- attendance plummet at the new bauble that was never necessary in the first place. Nobody show up. And why should they? To help out a couple billionaire owner families that feature cellar-dweller teams? At the exorbitant prices you just KNOW they'll continue to charge to see such garbage products?
Other things on my want to see bucket list.....
Charles Barkley, laughable swing and all, actually get a hole-in-one, then have it disqualified because he was swinging an illegal club. Oh my, imagine the world-class whine that would follow. Turrilble, just turrible.
After all the hype and uber-inane TV ads leading up to it -- see Michael Smith and Jemele Hill's ballyhooed new ESPN six o'clock jive fest crash and burn in the ratings, and the sooner the better. This entire format was targeted at the idiot demographic anyway.
San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick finally get a clue.
OJ Simpson be paroled from a ridiculous prison sentence to start with. This was never about justice. It was about payback for a crime a jury said he didn't commit. A travesty.
The NATIONAL Stock Car Racing organization (NASCAR) live up to it's own acronym. "National" means the USA. So no more Toyotas allowed. Let them develop their own circuit in Japan somewhere. And BTW, good riddance. America doesn't need them, nor ever did. A scourge on the domestic auto industry.
And last but not least, see Amazon get a book order right the first time. How many times should one have to select their choices, provide all the relevant info (credit card #, name, address, etc.) and have payment accepted and a delivery date guaranteed -- only to find out they screwed it up, payment is therefore denied, and one has to do it all over again? With the exact same info as the first time? Sometimes it takes them 4 or 5 tries. Who's in charge of this clown act anyway? And do they do it on purpose, just to see how much they can aggravate people?
That's just about as bad as the Detroit Lions baiting their own suckers every year with how good the team will be. And incredibly, they continue to bite. Fools. With me, it's been a few go-arounds with Amazon in the last couple days. The Honolulu blue and silver sappies have been drinking the same koolaid for over 50 years!! And keep paying more every season to do it.
So the ultimate might be the Lions actually, gasp, cough, gag, right, get to a Super Bowl. But that wouldn't work either. If they happened to actually pull that off and win the danged thing, they'd probably burn the whole town to the ground in the wacky way they seem to celebrate things in the Motor City. Best for them to keep falling short -- even if they don't realize it.
And nobody would really want to see Detroit go up in flames.
Would they?
Wednesday, March 1, 2017
If I did it.....Brady's missing jersey
OJ Simpson famously wrote an "If I Did It" book outlining how he would have acted IF he had committed the murders. Which of course we know he never did -- because the jury said so. So good enough for him -- good enough for me. Here's my "If I Did It" version of a more recent allegedly unlawful act.
Last time I looked, nobody had found Tom Brady's "missing" Super Bowl jersey yet. And the reward was up to somewhere around $500,000.
No doubt, somebody has it somewhere. The thing just didn't get up and walk away by itself, though it remains strange that with all the TV cameras associated with an event like the Super Bowl -- even inside the locker rooms -- nobody knows anything. Mum's the word, for now.
So here's a question. What's the statue of limitations of a crime involving the alleged theft of such an item? A half a million bucks definitely means that uni top has risen into the "grand theft" category. And it might go higher. Surely, Brady wants it back, as do the Patriots and the NFL. Not to mention the "security" forces that have been so obviously hood-winked in the process. Played for fools -- as it were.
This is a tough call. Whoever knows about this caper can't attempt to cash in any time soon, or they'd surely wind up in the slammer. But if they wait for the statue to expire in however many years it takes, the jersey will likely depreciate considerably in value. I mean, how many folks would cough up six figures for, say, a Bradshaw jersey from the 70s, or a Montana from the 80s? Old news and likely not worth that much. And even if someone was willing, what good is it to them then? Put it on a wall and hope it's a conversation piece? That would last about 10 minutes, even in a room full of drunken football fanatics.
So how should the current culprit proceed?
When in doubt, get lawyered up first thing. Explain to yon mouthpiece you wish to retain them on a commission basis only. If they can't find a way to cash in -- they don't get paid. Of course they'll be curious and want to know more. One only need tell them they have an item of questionable origin that others are highly interested in laying claim to. And of course, you must remain anonymous throughout said negotiations, which should automatically come with attorney/client privilege.
Forget the $500,000. Be willing to accept much less than that. A couple hundred grand should tide you over for a bit and the lawyer's going to get his/her 33% off the top anyway. But make them do the deal in THEIR name.
Most important of all is you have to insist on any deal including complete immunity for yourself. The lawyer is not to reveal your name to any authorities until and unless they have provided written assurance that you can't, and never will be charged with any manner of crime. That means the feds, the state, any locals, the NFL, or anybody else that could possibly try to jam you up.
In the meantime, don't keep that jersey any place obvious, like in your closet, attic, or even a safety deposit box. If there's a leak, search warrants will find it and you're busted.
Much better to find one's way to the Boston/Foxborough area and stay in a motel for a month or so. How much can that cost? Maybe a couple grand? Peanuts.
One could then hide it in plain sight -- by wearing it in public. Good grief, how many #12s do the beaners walk around town with every day? Thousands of them. Nobody would ever suspect you were the dastardly villain that swiped the really "valuable" one and had the cajones to actually flaunt it openly. Perfect.
Then sit back and wait, having already told your attorney you'll contact them in a few weeks to check on whether they've been able to "seal the deal". One shot throwaway cell phones that wind up at the bottom of deep lakes -- with the Sim cards removed, just in case -- are always a good idea in such communications -- and keep the talks short. Nothing to trace.
If it's a done deal, insist on cash from your attorney, no paper trail. A shrewd (greedy) one can figure a way if they smell a handsome payoff at the end of the line. And make sure it comes in random sequenced used 20s -- Jacksons -- not a bunch of new Ben Franklins in numerical order.
But how to make the critical swap? Actually, it should be simple at that point, given you already have total immunity and nothing to worry about. Show up at the lawyer's office wearing the jersey over top of an every day shirt, but under a sweater, so as not to be too obvious going in, remove it and collect your money.
Not a bad caper. But don't dilly dally for too long before setting it in motion. The longer that now "hot" #12 stays missing, the less it will be worth.
After all, there are now 5 number twelve Super Bowl winning Patriot jerseys out there. It's not like yours is one of a kind, like the Mona Lisa, Hillary's last worn pre-pantsuit dress, or something REALLY rare and valuable like, say, a functional Kardashian brain.
Or if you just want to be rid of the damned thing, lest so many bad things that could happen when those dastardly authorities swoop in and haul you off to a dungeon somewhere, never to be heard from again, there's an easier way.
Simply box it up and Fed-Ex it to Arthur Blank, care of the Atlanta Falcons. He's their owner and let him gag on it and figure out what to do next.
After all, his team choked like chihuahuas on chicken bones in the last Super Bowl when that very same #12 jersey shredded them in the latter stages of the game.
Seems only fitting.....
Then again, another possibility has always existed. Maybe Tom Brady himself is the culprit of stealing his own jersey -- what could have been easier? -- as an elaborate practical joke. Just to sit back and watch everybody else go nuts over its "mysterious" disappearance.
Would he have committed an actual crime? Opinions would certainly vary.
But for sure, the Emperor -- High Lord and Priest of the NFL -- one Roger Goodell -- would not be amused. That whole suspension legal battle thing would likely start all over again.
And the last thing we need is to suffer through all that sort of nonsense again.
But it would have been quite the humorous caper indeed.
Last time I looked, nobody had found Tom Brady's "missing" Super Bowl jersey yet. And the reward was up to somewhere around $500,000.
No doubt, somebody has it somewhere. The thing just didn't get up and walk away by itself, though it remains strange that with all the TV cameras associated with an event like the Super Bowl -- even inside the locker rooms -- nobody knows anything. Mum's the word, for now.
So here's a question. What's the statue of limitations of a crime involving the alleged theft of such an item? A half a million bucks definitely means that uni top has risen into the "grand theft" category. And it might go higher. Surely, Brady wants it back, as do the Patriots and the NFL. Not to mention the "security" forces that have been so obviously hood-winked in the process. Played for fools -- as it were.
This is a tough call. Whoever knows about this caper can't attempt to cash in any time soon, or they'd surely wind up in the slammer. But if they wait for the statue to expire in however many years it takes, the jersey will likely depreciate considerably in value. I mean, how many folks would cough up six figures for, say, a Bradshaw jersey from the 70s, or a Montana from the 80s? Old news and likely not worth that much. And even if someone was willing, what good is it to them then? Put it on a wall and hope it's a conversation piece? That would last about 10 minutes, even in a room full of drunken football fanatics.
So how should the current culprit proceed?
When in doubt, get lawyered up first thing. Explain to yon mouthpiece you wish to retain them on a commission basis only. If they can't find a way to cash in -- they don't get paid. Of course they'll be curious and want to know more. One only need tell them they have an item of questionable origin that others are highly interested in laying claim to. And of course, you must remain anonymous throughout said negotiations, which should automatically come with attorney/client privilege.
Forget the $500,000. Be willing to accept much less than that. A couple hundred grand should tide you over for a bit and the lawyer's going to get his/her 33% off the top anyway. But make them do the deal in THEIR name.
Most important of all is you have to insist on any deal including complete immunity for yourself. The lawyer is not to reveal your name to any authorities until and unless they have provided written assurance that you can't, and never will be charged with any manner of crime. That means the feds, the state, any locals, the NFL, or anybody else that could possibly try to jam you up.
In the meantime, don't keep that jersey any place obvious, like in your closet, attic, or even a safety deposit box. If there's a leak, search warrants will find it and you're busted.
Much better to find one's way to the Boston/Foxborough area and stay in a motel for a month or so. How much can that cost? Maybe a couple grand? Peanuts.
One could then hide it in plain sight -- by wearing it in public. Good grief, how many #12s do the beaners walk around town with every day? Thousands of them. Nobody would ever suspect you were the dastardly villain that swiped the really "valuable" one and had the cajones to actually flaunt it openly. Perfect.
Then sit back and wait, having already told your attorney you'll contact them in a few weeks to check on whether they've been able to "seal the deal". One shot throwaway cell phones that wind up at the bottom of deep lakes -- with the Sim cards removed, just in case -- are always a good idea in such communications -- and keep the talks short. Nothing to trace.
If it's a done deal, insist on cash from your attorney, no paper trail. A shrewd (greedy) one can figure a way if they smell a handsome payoff at the end of the line. And make sure it comes in random sequenced used 20s -- Jacksons -- not a bunch of new Ben Franklins in numerical order.
But how to make the critical swap? Actually, it should be simple at that point, given you already have total immunity and nothing to worry about. Show up at the lawyer's office wearing the jersey over top of an every day shirt, but under a sweater, so as not to be too obvious going in, remove it and collect your money.
Not a bad caper. But don't dilly dally for too long before setting it in motion. The longer that now "hot" #12 stays missing, the less it will be worth.
After all, there are now 5 number twelve Super Bowl winning Patriot jerseys out there. It's not like yours is one of a kind, like the Mona Lisa, Hillary's last worn pre-pantsuit dress, or something REALLY rare and valuable like, say, a functional Kardashian brain.
Or if you just want to be rid of the damned thing, lest so many bad things that could happen when those dastardly authorities swoop in and haul you off to a dungeon somewhere, never to be heard from again, there's an easier way.
Simply box it up and Fed-Ex it to Arthur Blank, care of the Atlanta Falcons. He's their owner and let him gag on it and figure out what to do next.
After all, his team choked like chihuahuas on chicken bones in the last Super Bowl when that very same #12 jersey shredded them in the latter stages of the game.
Seems only fitting.....
Then again, another possibility has always existed. Maybe Tom Brady himself is the culprit of stealing his own jersey -- what could have been easier? -- as an elaborate practical joke. Just to sit back and watch everybody else go nuts over its "mysterious" disappearance.
Would he have committed an actual crime? Opinions would certainly vary.
But for sure, the Emperor -- High Lord and Priest of the NFL -- one Roger Goodell -- would not be amused. That whole suspension legal battle thing would likely start all over again.
And the last thing we need is to suffer through all that sort of nonsense again.
But it would have been quite the humorous caper indeed.
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