If you're looking for uplift and a good old-fashioned cry, the Olympics are right up there with Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. These are real people with real hopes and dreams and goals and successes and heartbreaks and chances for redemption and oh my God that adorable orphan from Estonia just nailed that triple axel and we are the world…

But please, nobody follows professional sports to be happy. (Have you met a Jets fan?) In a given year there are such miniscule odds of any one particular band of brothers ending up on stage in two-toned hats and eye-rapist-designed XXXL t-shirts designed that fans have embraced, out of an almost Darwinian sense of necessity, the seedier side of sports.

Which brings us to the dirty little secret of the 2010 Winter Olympics: they are filled with dirty little secrets! Just as you can mask your musk for less with the help of those Designer Imposters ® scents ("If you like Sean John's Unforgiveable, you'll love our Bring It!"), I have no doubt you can learn to love the Games. Sit back, relax, and just let it happen.

Alcohol and Cars Combined!
If you liked… Carlos Dunlap, who was arrested for passing out in his car at a traffic light in the wee hours and ultimately got suspended for (two whole halves of) a game of minor significance.
Then you'll LOVE… Russian figure skater Andrei Lutai, who boozily lifted a Chevy Impala from a parking garage in Lake Placid after a pre-Olympic trial, blew a .18 when he was pulled over five minutes later, and earned himself a one-year ban from competition, which includes the Games of minor significance. (No word on whether he was still wearing pink gloves.) At any rate, the concept of a "one-year ban" is funny because, like, Vladamir Putin is just going to have him killed anyway.

Fun with Narcotics!
If you liked… Name your poison and your boyz, men. A-Roid? Manny just being Womanny? Darius Miles getting highles? (Sorry, that was bad.)
Then you'll LOVE… Germany's Claudia Pechstein, who recently lost an appeal against a 2-year ban for doping despite never having actually failed a drug test. Authorities suspect that she had a blood transfusion, which is really going above and beyond! But a word of warning to Bro-de Miller: the loophole that allowed snowboarder Ross Rebagliati to earn back his medal despite being caught rocking the ganj has, sadly, been closed. Harsh, dude.

Shitty Expansion City Logos!
If you liked...



Then you'll LOVE...



Sexual Harassment!

If you liked... ESPN horndoggery
Then you'll LOVE... Trying to guess what kind of creepy things Norway speedskating coach Peter Mueller said to skater Maren Haugli at a team breakfast a month ago. Norway's governing board called the incident "so serious that [they] had no other choice than to cancel our contract with Peter Mueller ... effective immediately". For his part, Mueller admits he made an "untoward remark about her ... as a joke." But like, at a breakfast? What, were they serving lox?

Totalitarian Border Officials!
If you liked... The story of a ranting raving Charles Oakley getting hassled at the Canadian border on his way to meet his new team the Toronto Raptors. ("They search the BMW. Tens of thousands of dollars of suits only Oak and the Ohio Players could wear are being rifled through, and who knows what else.")
Then you'll LOVE... The story of a ranting raving lefty journo getting hassled at the Canadian border on her way to some speaking engagements. ("After much questioning, Goodman said the officials finally asked if she would be speaking about the 2010 Olympics.")

Gruesome Skate-Blade Injuries!
If you liked... Seeing Clint Malarchuk's jugular pump an enormous pool of blood onto the ice; seeing Richard Zednik's carotid pump an enormous pool of blood onto the ice.
Then you'll LOVE... Seeing US speedskating wunderkind J.R. Celski's femoral pump an enormous pool of blood onto the ice at the recent Olympic trials. Okay fine, the wound missed his femoral by an inch, but blood still fucking pumped: "My first reaction was 'What the hell is that?'" said J.R. "It's purple, red, orange, yellow and I can see the bone."

Hot Hunky Homoeroticism!
If you liked...

Then you'll LOVE...

Miss u, Choire Sicha. Anyway, there's plenty of time for things to devolve even further. After all, Nancy Kerrigan wasn't attacked until January 1994. Get excited, sports fans!

This is Katie Baker, btw.

Kim Sears: What the hell are you doing?
Andy Murray: Finishing my game.
Kim: No! You promised me breakfast!
Andy: Breakfast schmreakfast. Look at the score, for Christ's sake! I'm only in the middle of the second and I'm winning 12 to 2. Breakfasts come and go, Kim, but Hartford? The Whale? They only beat Vancouver once, maybe twice in a lifetime!

Apparently Murray had a thing for Call Of Duty. Esteban 85, you've been warned.

This is Katie Baker, btw.

Remember the good old days of 2003 when Freedom Fries and frog hating where always on the menu? Then they got a new president (with a certified babe for a first lady), Zinedine Zidane turned out to be a psycho badass, and suddenly France didn't seem so terrible for a while. Now their "back-alley tactics" have once again reminded the world how much we love spitting on their flag and calling them sissies. It just feels right.

Even French newspapers had to admit that their team sucks and doesn't really deserve to go to the World Cup. Franco-bashing is so popular, even the French can get behind it.

Seriously, look at these guys. Those aren't just fans—the dude with the baguette on his hat is their secretary of defense!

Henry's handball sparks media storm against 'Les Bleus' [France24]

Honorable Mention: Dirk Nowitzki: Oh, good. He's still alive. [Dallas Morning News]

LeBron James: Remember when you were 12 and you thought that it would be sweet to be able to dunk so frequently and so hard that you could actually tell people you hurt yourself dunking? Okay, maybe that was last week, but congrats LeBron James. You're a hero to 5'6" guys everywhere. [AFP]

In the past week, all the stories leading up to the Big Game were about Manning vs. Brady, Manning vs. Belichick, how the undefeated Colts would finally get their reality check against the dynastic Patriots. Despite all his deadly offensive success, the Patriots were the one team that could still give Manning fits (despite four Colts wins in the last five meetings) as they had ruined many a magical season during his career. And all the focus would still be on Manning today, if it weren't The Call.

"Wrong."
"Folly."
"Dumb."
"Quizzical."
"Gaffe" and "Hubris."
"Bobble."
"The worst decision ... ever."
"Lack of Faith."
"Disrespect"
"A Bummer."
"Arrogantly Boneheaded."

[Screengrab via]

Pretty much everyone is in agreement that Belichick's decision to go for it on 4th-and-2 from his own 28 is the most arrogantly boneheaded (see?) coaching decision since Julius Caesar woke up on March 15 and said, "I think I'll go into work today." When your only two intellectual defenders are Merrill Hoge and Deion Sanders—noted fan of "swagger"—that's got to lead to some soul searching. (But hey, they covered! That's what's really important.)

As for Manning, his fourth quarter interception appeared to doom him to yet another big defeat against New England, but two more touchdowns in the final four minutes completed a 17-point comeback and his season remains perfect. So what if he needed Football's Einstein to momentarily turn into Andy Reid for one drive? Everyone keeps expecting Manning and his Colts to fold—no Bob Sanders, weaker home field, do they even have a coach?—and they just keep winning. (For now.)

Just as long as he stays away from the Lucas Oil hotdogs.

Belichick gaffe unrivaled [Shaughnessy]
Colts make Pats pay for Bill's unusually dumb decision [CBS]
Bill Belichick And The Art Of Second Guessing [Sussman]

* * * * *

Manny Pacquiao: Greatest fighter ever? I'll just take your word for it, because I'm still not paying $40 to watch a boxing match on TV. [Telegraph, GMANews]

Jimmie Johnson: Johnson all but locked up an unprecedented fourth straight Winston NASCAR Sprint Solo Cup Chase championship victory. And the man has never once used his turn signal. [LA Times]

The Bengals: They are officially "for real." So when do the knee injuries start again? [AP]

Jim Harbaugh: Two wins in three tries against not-so-mighty USC, both at the Coliseum (complete with a nice FU to Pete Carroll) and a big fat contract extension coming his way. Also, you wouldn't believe the luck this guy has getting good parking spots in Palo Alto. [Ray Ratto]

Brandon Jennings: I think we could all benefit from a summer in Europe. [Yahoo! Sports]

And the Weekend Loser?: Umm ... duh.

After the game, Celek denied having any knowledge of the sweet, delicious rum that makes everyone a Captain™ of their own evening. But then a silly advertising exec blew the whole deal and admitted that Celek was indeed part of the stealth marketing plan organized to spread "brand awareness" of Captain Morgan. Even worse, they tried to wrap it up in a charity drive to guilt everyone into pretending that it wasn't just a terrible fake viral campaign for booze.

The campaign was set to be unveiled next week and was fairly simple: For every time a player was caught on camera striking the "Captain Morgan" during a regular season game, $10,000 would be donated to Gridiron Greats. For each instance in the playoffs, the donation would elevate to $25,000. And for instances in the Super Bowl, the bounty was slated to hit $100,000 per pose.

Oh, what an amazing corporate citizen! But the grouchy grouches at NFL put the kibosh on that right away. Players can't do advertisements, charity or otherwise, during games. Please leave the shilling to every single other person associated with the broadcasting of an NFL game.

"I don't want people to think our intention was to [upset] the NFL," [ad dude] Lehrman said. "We want to find a way to do it, but it's not going to work out as currently formulated. … It's at the point where we need to re-think how we can go about doing this and find a way that we can raise money for [Gridiron Greats] without getting people upset."

They could just write a check, but then how would anyone find out about the awesome sexy female-slaying powers that simply holding a glass of Captain Morgan bestows upon even the schlubbiest alcoholic? I'm not sure the four mind-numbing commercials an hour during every televised sporting event will keep them covered.

P.S. Please be a Captain responsibly.

League shipwrecks Captain Morgan campaign [Yahoo]
Brent Celek's "Captain" Pose Was Part of "Guerrilla-Style Advertising Campaign" [700 Level]

Ealey himself came out yesterday and said that Spikes did not deserve to be suspended (an entire half!) for reaching under Ealey's helmet to gouge him in the face. After all, Ealey had his eyes closed! What could possibly have gone wrong? Besides, according to both Florida coach Urban Meyer and Georgia coach Mark Richt, Spikes himself had been the victim of a cheap shot earlier in the game. So he was just taking an eye for an eye, so to speak.

Meyer said he believed Spikes retaliated after getting his helmet ripped off and eye poked earlier in the game.

Georgia coach Mark Richt said Spikes' "helmet went flying off ... and there was one time he got hit with his helmet off."

"It was totally unintentional," Richt said. "They were totally just playing ball. That might have got him bent out of shape. I don't know about all of that."

It also seems that there were other dastardly villains afoot on Saturday. Another video that mysterious did not get passed around as much as the Spikes gouge—it has even been pulled from YouTube—is one of Georgia linebacker Nick Williams leveling the one and only Tim Tebow well after a handoff. Perhaps that's why Tebow himself defended Spikes with a "these things happen" shrug of his world-bearing shoulders. As Gary Danielson aptly put it, "That type of stuff will come back later in the game."

Emotional game ... violence ... just playing football out there ... no love lost, etc. No one seems to care that these guys want to injure someone on every play, so if the SEC lets them rip each others' heads off then who are we to complain? That's what the fans would do to one another if their hands weren't covered in barbecue sauce..

Georgia running back Washaun Ealey says Florida linebacker Brandon Spikes shouldn't be suspended [ESPN]
In addition to Spikes, a Georgia player had a questionable hit on Tebow [USA Today]
Florida Turns Blind Eye to Eye-Gouge [Fanhouse]
[Photo: Getty]

There's no point in previews or predictions at this stage (I think there will be at least four games ... and three groin pulls) so just go ahead and open thread your brains out below. Angry rants and trash talk are more than welcome, but anyone who says "an A-bomb from A-Rod!" is automatically banned. Now go get some.

[Photo: Getty]

* * * * *

Barry P. will have some other nonsense for you later. Thank you for your continued support of the Deadspin Dream Factory.

On gambling refs:

To have a little fun at the expense of the worst troublemakers, the referees working the game would sometimes make a modest friendly wager amongst themselves: first ref to give one of the bad boys a technical foul wouldn't have to tip the ball boy that night. In the NBA, ball boys set up the referees' locker room and keep it stocked with food and beer for the postgame meal. We usually ran the kid ragged with a variety of personal requests and then slipped him a $20 bill. Technically, the winner of the bet won twice — he didn't have to pay the kid and he got to call a T on Mr. Foul-Mouthed Big-Shot Du Jour.

After the opening tip, it was hilarious as the three of us immediately focused our full attention on the intended victim, waiting for something, anything, to justify a technical foul. If the guy so much as looked at one of us and mumbled, we rang him up. Later in the referees' locker room, we would down a couple of brews, eat some chicken wings, and laugh like hell.

We had another variation of this gag simply referred to as the "first foul of the game" bet. While still in the locker room before tip-off, we would make a wager on which of us would call the game's first foul. That referee would either have to pay the ball boy or pick up the dinner tab for the other two referees. Sometimes, the ante would be $50 a guy. Like the technical foul bet, it was hilarious — only this time we were testing each other's nerves to see who had the guts to hold out the longest before calling a personal foul. There were occasions when we would hold back for two or three minutes — an eternity in an NBA game — before blowing the whistle. It didn't matter if bodies were flying all over the place; no fouls were called because no one wanted to lose the bet.

We played this little game during the regular season and summer league. After a game, all three refs would gather around the VCR and watch a replay of the game. Early in the contest, the announcers would say, "Holy cow! They're really letting them play tonight!" If they only knew...

During one particular summer game, Duke Callahan, Mark Wunderlich, and I made it to the three-minute mark in the first quarter without calling a foul. We were running up and down the court, laughing our asses off as the players got hammered with no whistles. The players were exhausted from the nonstop running when Callahan finally called the first foul because Mikki Moore of the New Jersey Nets literally tackled an opposing player right in front of him. Too bad for Callahan — he lost the bet.

I became so good at this game that if an obvious foul was committed right in front of me, I would call a travel or a three-second violation instead. Those violations are not personal fouls, so I was still in the running to win the bet. The players would look at me with disbelief on their faces as if to say, "What the hell was that?"

On star treatment:

Relationships between NBA players and referees were generally all over the board — love, hate, and everything in-between. Some players, even very good ones, were targeted by referees and the league because they were too talented for their own good. Raja Bell, formerly of the Phoenix Suns and now a member of the Charlotte Bobcats, was one of those players. A defensive specialist throughout his career, Bell had a reputation for being a "star stopper." His defensive skills were so razor sharp that he could shut down a superstar, or at least make him work for his points. Kobe Bryant was often frustrated by Bell's tenacity on defense. Let's face it, no one completely shuts down a player of Kobe's caliber, but Bell could frustrate Kobe, take him out of his game, and interrupt his rhythm.

You would think that the NBA would love a guy who plays such great defense. Think again! Star stoppers hurt the promotion of marquee players. Fans don't pay high prices to see players like Raja Bell — they pay to see superstars like Kobe Bryant score 40 points. Basketball purists like to see good defense, but the NBA wants the big names to score big points.

If a player of Kobe's stature collides with the likes of Raja Bell, the call will almost always go for Kobe and against Bell. As part of our ongoing training and game preparation, NBA referees regularly receive game-action video tape from the league office. Over the years, I have reviewed many recorded hours of video involving Raja Bell. The footage I analyzed usually illustrated fouls being called against Bell, rarely for him. The message was subtle but clear — call fouls against the star stopper because he's hurting the game.

If Kobe Bryant had two fouls in the first or second quarter and went to the bench, one referee would tell the other two, "Kobe's got two fouls. Let's make sure that if we call a foul on him, it's an obvious foul, because otherwise he's gonna go back to the bench. If he is involved in a play where a foul is called, give the foul to another player."

Similarly, when games got physically rough, we would huddle up and agree to tighten the game up. So we started calling fouls on guys who didn't really matter — "ticky-tack" or "touch" fouls where one player just touched another but didn't really impede his progress. Under regular circumstances these wouldn't be fouls, but after a skirmish we wanted to regain control. We would never call these types of fouls on superstars, just on the average players who didn't have star status. It was important to keep the stars on the floor.

Allen Iverson provides a good example of a player who generated strong reaction, both positive and negative, within the corps of NBA referees. For instance, veteran referee Steve Javie hated Allen Iverson and was loathe [sic] to give him a favorable call. If Javie was on the court when Iverson was playing, I would always bet on the other team to win or at least cover the spread. No matter how many times Iverson hit the floor, he rarely saw the foul line. By contrast, referee Joe Crawford had a grandson who idolized Iverson. I once saw Crawford bring the boy out of the stands and onto the floor during warm-ups to meet the superstar. Iverson and Crawford's grandson were standing there, shaking hands, smiling, talking about all kinds of things. If Joe Crawford was on the court, I was pretty sure Iverson's team would win or at least cover the spread.

Madison Square Garden was the place to be for a marquee matchup between the Miami Heat and New York Knicks. I worked the game with Derrick Stafford and Gary Zielinski, knowing that the Knicks were a sure bet to get favorable treatment that night. Derrick Stafford had a close relationship with Knicks coach Isiah Thomas, and he despised Heat coach Pat Riley. I picked the Knicks without batting an eye and settled in for a roller-coaster ride on the court.

During pregame warm-ups, Shaquille O'Neal approached Stafford and asked him to let some air out of the ball.

"Is this the game ball?" O'Neal asked. "It's too hard. C'mon, D, let a little air out of it."

Stafford then summoned one of the ball boys, asked for an air needle, and let some air out of the ball, getting a big wink and a smile from O'Neal.

On makeup calls:

I remember one nightmarish game I worked with Joe Crawford and Phil Robinson. Minnesota and New Orleans were in a tight game going into the last minute, and Crawford told us to make sure that we were 100 percent sure of the call every time we blew the whistle. When play resumed, Minnesota coach Flip Saunders started yelling at us to make a call. Robinson got intimidated and blew the whistle on New Orleans. The only problem was it wasn't the right call. Tim Floyd, the Hornets' coach, went nuts. He stormed the court and kicked the ball into the top row of the stadium. Robinson had to throw him out, and Minnesota won the game.

[...]

Later that week, Ronnie Nunn told me that we could have made something up at the other end against Minnesota to even things out. He even got specific — maybe we should have considered calling a traveling violation on Kevin Garnett. Talk about the politics of the game! Of course the official statement from the league office will always read, "There is no such thing as a makeup call."

On his fellow referees:

Dick Bavetta

Crawford wanted the game over quickly so he could kick back, relax, and have a beer; [Dick Bavetta] wanted it to keep going so he could hear his name on TV. He actually paid an American Airlines employee to watch all the games he worked and write down everything the TV commentators said about him. No matter how late the game was over, he'd wake her up for a full report. He loved the attention.

That very first time Jack and I bet on an NBA game, Dick was on the court. The team we picked lost the game, but it covered the large point spread and that's how we won the money. Because of the matchup that night, I had some notion of who might win the game, but that's not why I was confident enough to pull the trigger and pick the other team. The real reason I picked the losing team was that I was just about certain they would cover the spread, no matter how badly they played. That is where Dick Bavetta comes into the picture.

From my earliest involvement with Bavetta, I learned that he likes to keep games close, and that when a team gets down by double-digit points, he helps the players save face. He accomplishes this act of mercy by quietly, and frequently, blowing the whistle on the team that's having the better night. Team fouls suddenly become one-sided between the contestants, and the score begins to tighten up. That's the way Dick Bavetta referees a game — and everyone in the league knew it.

Fellow referee Danny Crawford attended Michael Jordan's Flight School Camp years ago and later told me that he had long conversations with other referees and NBA players about how Bavetta propped up weak teams. Danny told me that Jordan himself said that everyone in the league knew that Bavetta cheated in games and that the players and coaches just hoped he would be cheating for them on game night. Cheating? That's a very strong word to use in any sentence that includes the name Dick Bavetta. Is the conscious act of helping a team crawl back into a contest "cheating"? The credo of referees from high school to the NBA is "call them like you see them." Of course, that's a lot different than purposely calling more fouls against one team as opposed to another. Did Bavetta have a hidden agenda? Or was he the ultimate company man, making sure the NBA and its fans got a competitive game most times he was on
the court?

Studying under Dick Bavetta for 13 years was like pursuing a graduate degree in advanced game manipulation. He knew how to marshal the tempo and tone of a game better than any referee in the league, by far. He also knew how to take subtle — and not so subtle — cues from the NBA front office and extend a playoff series or, worse yet, change the complexion of that series.

The 2002 Western Conference Finals between the Los Angeles Lakers and the Sacramento Kings presents a stunning example of game and series manipulation at its ugliest. As the teams prepared for Game 6 at the Staples Center, Sacramento had a 3–2 lead in the series. The referees assigned to work Game 6 were Dick Bavetta, Bob Delaney, and Ted Bernhardt. As soon as the referees for the game were chosen, the rest of us knew immediately that there would be a Game 7. A prolonged series was good for the league, good for the networks, and good for the game. Oh, and one more thing: it was great for the big-market, star-studded Los Angeles Lakers.

In the pregame meeting prior to Game 6, the league office sent down word that certain calls — calls that would have benefitted the Lakers — were being missed by the referees. This was the type of not-so-subtle information that I and other referees were left to interpret. After receiving the dispatch, Bavetta openly talked about the fact that the league wanted a Game 7.

"If we give the benefit of the calls to the team that's down in the series, nobody's going to complain. The series will be even at three apiece, and then the better team can win Game 7," Bavetta stated.

As history shows, Sacramento lost Game 6 in a wild come-from-behind thriller that saw the Lakers repeatedly sent to the foul line by the referees. For other NBA referees watching the game on television, it was a shameful performance by Bavetta's crew, one of the most poorly officiated games of all time.

The 2002 series certainly wasn't the first or last time Bavetta weighed in on an important game. He also worked Game 7 of the 2000 Western Conference Finals between the Lakers and the Trail Blazers. The Lakers were down by 13 at the start of the fourth quarter when Bavetta went to work. The Lakers outscored Portland 31–13 in the fourth quarter and went on to win the game and the series. It certainly didn't hurt the Lakers that they got to shoot 37 free throws compared to a paltry 16 for the Trail Blazers.

Two weeks before the 2003–04 season ended, Bavetta and I were assigned to officiate a game in Oakland. That afternoon before the tip-off, we were discussing an upcoming game on our schedule. It was the last regular-season game we were scheduled to work, pitting Denver against San Antonio. Denver had lost a game a few weeks prior because of a mistake made by the referees, a loss that could be the difference between them making or missing the playoffs. Bavetta told me Denver needed the win and that it would look bad for the staff and the league if the Nuggets missed the playoffs by one game. There were still a few games left on the schedule before the end of the season, and the standings could potentially change. But on that day in Oakland, Bavetta looked at me and casually stated, "Denver will win if they need the game. That's why I'm on it."

I was thinking, How is Denver going to win on the road in San Antonio? At the time, the Spurs were arguably the best team in the league. Bavetta answered my question before it was asked.

"Duncan will be on the bench with three fouls within the first five minutes of the game," he calmly stated.

Bavetta went on to inform me that it wasn't the first time the NBA assigned him to a game for a specific purpose. He cited examples, including the 1993 playoff series when he put New Jersey guard Drazen Petrovic on the bench with quick fouls to help Cleveland beat the Nets. He also spoke openly about the 2002 Los Angeles–Sacramento series and called himself the NBA's "go-to guy."

As it turned out, Denver didn't need the win after all; they locked up a spot in the playoffs before they got to San Antonio. In a twist of fate, it was the Spurs that ended up needing the win to have a shot at the division title, and Bavetta generously accommodated. In our pregame meeting, he talked about how important the game was to San Antonio and how meaningless it was to Denver, and that San Antonio was going to get the benefit of the calls that night. Armed with this inside information, I called Jack Concannon before the game and told him to bet the Spurs.

To no surprise, we won big. San Antonio blew Denver out of the building that evening, winning by 26 points. When Jack called me the following morning, he expressed amazement at the way an NBA game could be manipulated. Sobering, yes; amazing, no. That's how the game is played in the National Basketball Association.

In a follow-up email to the referee staff and the league office, Crawford railed about the lack of respect players had for referees and the NBA's failure to back him up. Then, in a direct shot at the league's embracing of referees like Dick Bavetta, he fired a sharp rebuke:

"I also told [Stu Jackson] that the staff is an officiating staff of Dick Bavetta's — schmoozing and sucking people's asses to get ahead. Awful, but it is reality."

Crawford also touched on the fact that he was being excluded from working the playoffs that year:

"Look on the bright side everybody, MORE playoff games for you guys and Dick, maybe you will get to be crew chief in the 7th game of the Finals, which is a travesty in itself you even being in the Finals."

Tommy Nunez

My favorite Tommy Nunez story is from the 2007 playoffs when the San Antonio Spurs were able to get past the Phoenix Suns in the second round. Of course, what many fans didn't know was that Phoenix had someone working against them behind the scenes. Nunez was the group supervisor for that playoff series, and he definitely had a rooting interest.

Nunez loved the Hispanic community in San Antonio and had a lot of friends there. He had been a referee for 30 years and loved being on the road; in fact, he said that the whole reason he had become a group supervisor was to keep getting out of the house. So Nunez wanted to come back to San Antonio for the conference finals. Plus, he, like many other referees, disliked Suns owner Robert Sarver for the way he treated officials. Both of these things came into play when he prepared the referees for the games in the staff meetings. I remember laughing with him and saying, "You would love to keep coming back here." He was pointing out everything that Phoenix was able to get away with and never once told us to look for anything in regard to San Antonio. Nunez should have a championship ring on his finger.

Derrick Stafford and Jess Kersey

Of course, Stafford had some friends in the league, too. I worked a Knicks game in Madison Square Garden with him on February 26, 2007. New York shot an astounding 39 free throws that night to Miami's paltry eight. It seemed like Stafford was working for the Knicks, calling fouls on Miami like crazy. Isiah Thomas was coaching the Knicks, and after New York's four-point victory, a guy from the Knicks came to our locker room looking for Stafford, who was in the shower. He told us that Thomas sent him to retrieve Stafford's home address; apparently, Stafford had asked the coach before the game for some autographed sneakers and jerseys for his kids. Suddenly, it all made sense.

Referee Jess Kersey was another one of Isiah Thomas' guys. They'd talk openly on the phone as if they had known each other since childhood. Thomas even told Kersey that he was pushing to get Ronnie Nunn removed from the supervisor's job so that Kersey and Dick Bavetta could take over. This sort of thing happened all the time, and I kept waiting for a Knicks game when Stafford, Bavetta, and Kersey were working together. It was like knowing the winning lottery numbers before the drawing!

Steve Javie

And then there was the ongoing feud between Javie and 76ers superstar Allen Iverson. The rift was so bad that Philadelphia general manager Billy King often called the league office to complain about Javie's treatment of Iverson during a game.

Iverson was eventually traded to Denver, and in his first game against his former team, he was tossed after two technicals. Afterward, Iverson implied Javie had a grudge against him, saying, "I thought I got fouled on that play, and I said I thought that he was calling the game personal, and he threw me out. His fuse is real short anyway, and I should have known that I couldn't say anything anyway. It's been something personal with me and him since I got in the league. This was just the perfect game for him to try and make me look bad." The league fined Iverson $25,000 for his comments, but most of the league referees thought the punishment was too lenient and were upset he wasn't suspended. As a result, we collectively decided to dispense a little justice of our own, sticking it to Iverson whenever we could.

Shortly after the Javie-Iverson incident, I worked a Jazz-Nuggets contest in Denver on January 6, 2007. During the pregame meeting, my fellow referees Bernie Fryer and Gary Zielinski agreed that we were going to strictly enforce the palming rule against Iverson. Palming the ball was something Iverson loved to do, but if he so much as came close to a palm, we were going to blow the whistle. Obviously, our actions were in direct retaliation for Iverson's rant against Javie. True to form, I immediately excused myself and made an important phone call.

Sticking to our pregame pledge, each of us whistled Iverson for palming in the first quarter — we all wanted in on the fun. The violations seemed to affect Iverson's rhythm and he played terribly that night, shooting 5-for-19 with five turnovers. After getting repeatedly whistled all night long, Iverson approached me in an act of submission.

"How long am I going to be punished for Javie?" he quietly inquired.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Allen," I responded.

EARLIER: The Book The NBA Doesn't Want You To Read

Tim McClelland—who has been a Major League Umpire for 26 years—admitted after last night's ALCS game the he botched two calls. The most egregious one was the should've-been double play, where Robinson Cano and Jorge Posada were both caught stranded off third base, but only Posada was ruled out. McClelland came to the press room afterward to explain himself and said that he was expecting both players to tag the base and he thought Cano was touching third when he was tagged. Oops.

His explanation for the earlier gaffe is a little less solid. McClelland said that "in his heart" he believed Nick Swisher left third base early on a sacrifice fly and called him out on appeal. Even though replays appeared to show that he was wrong, McClelland said "I'm not sure I believe the replay of the first one." I think more umps and referees should use that excuse: The heart wants what it wants! And his heart wants Nick Swisher to be out. How you gonna argue with that?

By the way, McClelland's Wikipedia page was locked late last night so don't bother trying to convince people he's a known goat fucker or anything. (Sadly, the line about him being a Michigan State grad is not vandalism.)

Bill Klem Would Be Ashamed [ESPN]
Umpire Tim McClelland makes the worst call of all time [Big League Stew]
October 20 - Tim M cClelland [ASAP Sports]

A lot people complain about the excessive celebrations these days for something as minor as a first-round playoff victory. But as the unbridled joy on Shane Victorino's face will tell you, some boys will do absolutely anything for a champagne bath.

It feels so good on the skin, you know?

[Photo: Getty]

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I didn't realize that yesterday was Canadian Thanksgiving, so a belated Happy Northern Turkey Day to our upstairs neighbors. Does this mean they get a 7-day weekend now?

Left field umpire Phil Cuzzi made one of the great all-time blunders last night when he called a ball that landed nearly a foot inside the baseline a foul ball even though he was standing just yards away and had the perfect angle on it.
(Click the photo to enlarge.) That turned a ground rule double into a strike and arguably cost the Twins a series-tying game against the Yankees. I say "arguably" because Mauer still reached base, the Twins still loaded them up with nobody out, and they still managed to not score a run. So who knows? It's kind of hard for me to get exercised about this, because there have been far worse crimes perpetrated on behalf of both the Yankees and the Twins. I'm over it, just don't look here for sympathy.

Still, what a terrible call. That's like NBA-level bad.

Got an image you'd like to see in here first thing in the morning? Send it to tips@deadspin.com. Subject: Morning crap.

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So we've got a full day of college football, more playoff games, and if you behave yourselves—maybe some WNBA talk. (Or not.) Grab some breakfast and then get comfortable. We've got a lot to cover.

Brian Windhorst of the Cleveland Plain Dealer got a statement (and then went out of his way to leap chivalrously to LeBron's defense):

"Nike has been operating basketball camps for the benefit of young athletes for decades and has longstanding policies in place regarding what events are open and closed to media coverage," Nike spokesman KeJuan Wilkins said.

"Unfortunately, for the first time in four years, two journalists did not respect our 'no videotaping' policy at an after-hours pick-up game Monday evening following the LeBron James Skills Academy."

This runs counter to everything freelance videographer Ryan Miller said yesterday. On a Syracuse.com blog, Miller provides a PDF of the camp's media policy (which doesn't mention any special restrictions on videotaping) and notes that the pickup game was not, in fact, after hours:

It was during the regularly scheduled "College Workout #3" portion of the LeBron James Skills Academy. That session ran from 8:30-10:15 on Monday night and the filming took place during that designated time slot.

So now we've apparently come to the fun stage of the story where the corporate factotum starts fibbing like mad, and the newspaper dudes condescend to the whole Internet. Awesome. And all we ever wanted was a grainy YouTube clip of the best basketball player in the world being turned momentarily into Shawn Bradley. We'll never get that now, but here, at least, is Jordan Crawford — suddenly the most famous baller in Xavier history, though he's yet to play a minute for the Musketeers — bearing witness:

I came down the middle. He just happened to be there. ... I was geeked about it, more than anything, just because it's LeBron.

Video of the interview below:

Nike officials claim media rules prompted confiscation of video of college player's pickup-game slam over LeBron James [Plain Dealer]
Ryan Miller's response to Nike's LeBron James Skills Academy statement [Syracuse.com]
EARLIER:
The Dunk Was "As Good As It Could've Been Hyped Up To Be"
LeBron Gets Dunked On; None Of Us Are Witnesses

PHOTOSHOP: Submitted by commenter XavierMusketeer

Reports E! Online (which went with the decidedly weak "Columbia Drops the Ball on Brad Pitt's Moneyball" for its punning headline):

They can't all be home runs for Brad Pitt.

His latest project, the Steven Soderbergh-directed Moneyball, has been put into "limited turnaround" by Columbia Pictures honcho Amy Pascal after receiving a much different final draft of a script she once fought for.

Production on the film was set to start Monday in Phoenix, and with only 96 hours to go, Soderbergh's change in vision unsettled Pascal and the brakes were immediately applied to the project.

The "limited turnaround" gives Soderbergh the opportunity to try and settle with another studio, the aim being bigwigs such as Paramount and Warner Bros. The filmmaker has until Monday to tie down the deal, having spent the weekend with both his and Pitt's CAA agents attempting to hit one out of the park-so to speak.

If that doesn't happen, America will very likely have lost its only chance at ever seeing Lenny Dykstra and Demetri Martin together on the big screen. Just a few weeks ago, Lewis seemed nonplussed that the movie was being made at all. In an interview with the Today Show's Dan Fleschner, he said: "I didn't understand why they bought it for a movie in the first place."

At least the adaptation of Lewis' Blind Side is proceeding apace. Sandra Bullock and Tim McGraw, folks. Touchdown!

Columbia Drops the Ball on Brad Pitt's Moneyball [E! Online]
Has Soderbergh's Moneyball Movie Been Canned? [Slate.com]

Wilstein has been nominated for the Hall of Fame's J.G. Taylor Spink Award by the Seattle chapter of the Baseball Writers' Association of America, which is unstinting in its efforts to be wrong about pretty much everything. The award recognizes "meritorious contributions to baseball writing." What Wilstein did, to put it simply, was cast suspicion on a man doing something perfectly legal with his own body, thus setting the terms of a story that has ended with federal investigators tap-dancing on the Fourth Amendment, merrily committing crimes far greater than anything they were investigating in the first place. What exactly is meritorious about that?

Go back and read the story that started it all, in 1998. This was in August, in the teeth of the Sosa-McGwire pursuit of Roger Maris' record. Wilstein built an entire feature around a bottle of Androstenedione that he spotted on the top shelf of McGwire's locker. Andro was perfectly legal and available over the counter at the time, but that didn't stop Wilstein from whipping up a little hysteria:

Sitting on the top shelf of Mark McGwire's locker, next to a can of Popeye spinach and packs of sugarless gum, is a brown bottle labeled Androstenedione.

For more than a year, McGwire says, he has been using the testosterone-producing pill, which is perfectly legal in baseball but banned in the NFL, Olympics and the NCAA.

No one suggests that McGwire wouldn't be closing in on Roger Maris' home run record without the over-the-counter drug. After all, he hit 49 homers without it as a rookie in 1987, and more than 50 each of the past two seasons.

But the drug's ability to raise levels of the male hormone, which builds lean muscle mass and promotes recovery after injury, is seen outside baseball as cheating and potentially dangerous.

The story established the model for everything that has followed: insinuation, heaps of pseudo-science, a whiff of Drug War-era moralizing, the assumption that use is the same thing as abuse, the fat paragraph of scary side effects in which the writer essentially holds a flashlight under his chin and goes whooooooo, a quote or two from Gary Wadler, who remains the go-to drug warrior for journalists too embarrassed to quote someone named Dick Pound.

This isn't meritorious journalism. It's Nancy Reagan in newsprint.

Wilstein went on to become one of journalism's most persistent steroid crusaders, kibitzing baseball's evolving drug policy at every turn, finding an excuse to summon the specter of PEDs even when he was writing about tennis ("At a time when other pro sports have been beset by problems with steroids, the arrests of stars and confrontations with fans, tennis stands to gain as a civil alternative") and, I shit you not, the Iditarod.

"No one has been found to be doping their dogs, but there are suspicions among some mushers that it's been done, if not in the race, then in training. Anabolic steroids and blood doping - the injection of whole blood, packed blood cells or blood substitutes - could help make the dogs stronger and enhance their endurance and resilience."

He helped create a phony atmosphere of crisis that certain overeager federal investigators could exploit to such an extent that their flagrantly illegal seizure of baseball's 2003 steroid tests results — which included the results of players outside the scope of their search warrant, not to mention records for people with no connection to the BALCO case or even baseball — was mostly cheered. (I wonder if people will cheer when this case shows up before the Supreme Court.) When Sammy Sosa's name was whispered into the ear of The New York Times earlier this week, no one, that I saw, called for an investigation into the leaks (a crime for which someone will eventually get tossed in the federal hoosegow), and no one, that I saw, expressed any outrage that Sosa's name emerged only after a lot of people had their Fourth Amendment rights trampled. Instead, people demanded more names, more names, more names — hell, the whole damn list.

Wilstein didn't do any of this himself, of course, but this is his legacy as much as it is anyone's. (Geoff Baker, Mariners beat writer for the Seattle Times and the chairman of BWAA's Seattle chapter, called Wilstein one of "a select few" who worked diligently to uncover doping in baseball.) Wilstein is retired from sportswriting these days, seemingly content to be turned into an instrument by which his former profession simultaneously flays itself for not bulldogging the steroids story hard enough and congratulates itself for starting the conversation. He now writes children's stories.

McGwire Author Wilstein Nominated for Baseball Writers' Award [Bloomberg]
A Hall of Fame Find by a Sports Reporter [The New York Times]
Legal in baseball [SI.com]

The commissioner-for-life was around to announce the picks, a relatively simple task that David Stern uses once a year to trick everyone into thinking he's human. But if Twitter is a representative sample of the country — and, lord, let's hope it isn't — then Selig failed miserably. In fact, according to his critics, Bud Selig is ...

"... almost uncomfortable to watch"
"... a charmer"
"... worse than dull."
"... [awful] at absolutely everything he does."
"... lost in the green room"
"... just awkward"
"... the most unsmooth commissioner in the history of sports."
"... boring lol he looks so robotic."
"... an inept moron"
"... awful at this draft business"
"... the first person I have ever heard pronounce a certain Ohio city as "Cincinnat-uh." (note: certain Ohio city is not Cleveland)"
"... BORING WHEN INTRODUCING PLAYERS"
"... not amused by applause."
"... a skinny guy, yet he spent $400k last year on meals"
"... just awkward announcing the picks"
"... a colossal douche bag"

And my favorite, for the sputtering yet economical expression of hatred:

"... such a... fuck bud selig."

Search - "bud selig is" [Twitter]

Burress posted a $100,000 bail and was given a court date of March 31. So that gives us a good four months of hand-wringing, finger-wagging, incorrect predictions, unanswerable questions and at least 87 Mike Lupica columns about gun violence. It turns out that the incident that may really have sparked this situation happened on Monday night, when Burress' teammate Steve Smith was robbed at gunpoint after a night on the town. Burress probably thought that if Smith could be robbed in front of his own house (by the driver who took him home), he would need protection himself. Take it, Lupica.

We always hear that afterward, that they've got to be carrying to protect themselves, protect the big wad of cash they're carrying, protect their expensive jewelry. But ask yourself something: When was the last time you heard of a famous athlete stopping a crime, against himself or anybody else, because he was the one with the gun?

Seriously? When was the last time you heard of somebody like Plaxico Burress being a crimefighter? More often than not, they become the crime. Or the scene of the crime. Burress needed a gun to be tough and keep himself from some menace to society ready to jump out from the dance floor at the Latin Quarter, and if he didn't turn into a menace to society, he certainly became one to himself.

That really misses the point, but okay. Let's leave the anger to the Mayor and look at the what Giants can do now.

As you may have noticed, March 31 is after the NFL season is over, which leaves the G-Men with several options. They could plausibly make the case to "let the system work" and go about their business for the rest of this season, letting Burress back on the team (once his leg heals.) They could give him a preliminary wrist slap suspension to show they are "taking this very seriously" and still have him back for the playoffs.

They could keep him inactive forever, suspending him with pay or if doctors say his injury is severe enough, they could put him on the non-injury football list. That not only leaves him out for the season, but the Giants would not have to pay him and they could possibly get back some of the money they've already paid him. Or they could just cut their losses now, release him and his distractions immediately and move on with their lives. Of course, all of that would be moot if Roger Goodell decides to "take care of" the problem himself.

But there are other issues for the Giants—notably the fate of Antonio Pierce. (Reportedly, he was supposed to join Burress at the station yesterday and did not show.) If he handled Plaxico's gun at any time on the fateful night, then he is also guilty of possession of an illegal firearm, to say nothing of tampering/obstruction of justice charges if police decide that he tried to hide the evidence. I think most folks agree that the Giants can win without Burress, but their title defense would be seriously hampered without their middle linebacker. It's one thing for a troublemaking player to take himself out of the picture, but to drag other players into his web of craziness may be too much for management to take.

For his part, running back Derrick Ward has established that he was not involved at all and the NYPD is no longer looking at him as a person of interest. But as with every other twist and turn in this story, that only raises more questions. Like ... what ... is up ... with the sweater?

• Plaxico arrives at Stadium; Future a Giant question mark [Daily News]
• Any chance of Plaxico Burress catching a break is real long shot [Mike Lupica]
• BURRESS CHARGED; GIANTS WEIGH OPTIONS [NY Post]
• BURRESS DEAL HAS LOOPHOLES [NY Post]
• Giants' Smith was holdup victim last week [Newsday]
• Giants' Pierce wants to get past gun 'headache' [Newsday]
• Exclusive: Blitz Can Confirm Where Derrick Ward Was Friday [Bob's Blitz]