I had a swimming coach when I was four, named Mr. Willamy. During a swim lesson, I was reluctant to enter the pool. Mr. Willamy responded by yelling at me, dunking my head in the water, and holding it there until I was nearly drowning. Mr. Willamy wasn't fired for this, of course. Mr. Willamy kept his job for decades, and was something of an institution. He's dead now. Fuck that guy.

If you've ever played sports (or, in my case, attempted to), you have no doubt encountered your fair share of asshole coaches. BLAZING ASSHOLE COACHES. In fact, I'd argue that most men become coaches because they couldn't be bothered to fill out the application to become a fucking rent-a-cop. You know the kind of coach I mean. Aviator shades. Puffed chest. Drunk with precious authority. Ready to scream at children at the drop of a hat. For every Tony Dungy in this world, there are roughly one million complete fucking scumbags aspiring to be the next Bear Bryant.

Well, it's time to call those gentlemen out. Deadspinners, welcome to our very first edition of ASSHOLE COACH DIGEST. Every Monday, we'll be chronicling real stories about coaches who are arrogant, unpleasant, and downright abusive. You can send me your coaching horror stories right here. I don't give a shit if your coach is BAD. I don't care if he elected to kick a field goal when he was down by seven points with no timeouts and only five minutes left (Hi, Andy!). And I really don't give a shit if he didn't give you enough PT.

No, I'm talking about the Manginis of the world. The slimy, slogan-spouting assholes who just can't wait to put you in your place. It can be any sport. It can be your current coach, or a coach you once had. You can name names, or you can be anonymous. I don't care. All I want is to offer you a bit of payback to any coach who took his bullshit too fucking far. The end goal, naturally, is to get stories about some big name assholes: the Bobby Knights and Todd Haleys of the world. But really, any coach will do. It's time to debunk a profession that is often lionized far beyond what it deserves. Molder of young men, my ass. Take this story, from reader Andrew:

I think I've got 90% of people beat with my fourth grade flag football coach. First of all, guy was this huge, former o lineman who was living vicariously through his fourth grade son. Dude, would have us doing legitimate drills such as leg lifts and ab work for this team. I feel the need to reemphasize the fact here, that this was a fourth grade coach and most of the kids were 9-10 years old and just want to play glorified backyard ball.

Oh and I did I mention the guy broke my collarbone? Yes, yes, my fourth grade flag football coach broke me collarbone. You may be asking yourself right now, "How Andrew, How did your fourth grade flag football coach break your collarbone?" Well, let me tell you, so we were playing a scrimmage in the backyard of our elementary school. Well, one kid on our team, who was lined up at linebacker, had watched some tv and figured out a juke move that he was using on some poor kid who was lined up center. The poor kid was always getting faked out by this move because, he was, you know, fucking nine.

So the coach decides the best way to teach these kids how to stop such a move is to INSERT HIMSELF IN THE FUCKING SCRIMMAGE. So now, there is a forty year old, 200+ lbs. huge dude lined up at center, in the middle of this scrimmage of nine and ten year olds. So the next play from scrimmage occurs and the kid playing linebacker fakes his juke and completely outmaneuvers the coach, the coach dives for where he thinks the kid is supposed to be and instead, lays me out. We're talking, this guy performed a near flawless form tackle on my, tiny, fifty pound self and proceeded to lay on top of me for a good couple of seconds afterwards.

Needless to say my collarbone snapped like a dry piece of spaghetti. Soon after my incident, half of the team quit because the coach was fucking psychotic and his kid moved maybe two years later. But my goddamn shoulder still fucking hurts whenever the air pressure changes to serve a nice little reminder of the great flag football career I had consisting of one fucking game and then a nice stint on the DL.

Or this one, from Jared:

In the spring semester of my junior year in high school there were these rumors going around the school that head football coach was having an affair and was getting divorced. This ended up being true but the next part is the shocker.

He was having the affair with the assistant coach's wife, who also had a son on the football team who was the starting QB.

After each got divorced they started dating and got married that summer. He even kept his job at the school even though he supply fucked her in his office multiple times. The kid even had to keep playing for the jerk-off because his dad couldn't afford to send him to the private school in the area. So the whole season this kid had to play for a coach who fucked his mom and ruined his parents' marriage. The kid's dad, who used to be good friends with the guy and was the defensive coordinator, quit because of the whole head coach fucking his wife thing. The coach ended up leaving after the season when he got new job but the damage was done. He was a total douchbag.

You get the idea. Broken collarbones. Boning the starting QB's mom. This is WHY YOUR COACH SUCKS. Photos, video, and scanned motivational slogans are all welcome.

It's usually because they're just so absurd or really lack even the most tenuous of news angles to give them the go-ahead. Other times it's because they're just absolute horseshit. But every Friday until we get sick of running them, we'll present to you some of these not-so-shiny gems. All items should be treated as [Sic'd]. Enjoy...

And Here's One Of Her Emails, Too

Excuse me...

I urge you to provide me proof that embedding was permitted from my YouTube account which I assure you wasn't. That's why I'm not going away until you take down the article and compensate me for the escalating level of slander, now up to almost 18,000 views. Have you even asked Barry how he got it? Because no matter what he says, it will be a lie that he took it legally.

I also did not think I would be outing my full identity with a screen name I selected, "PhillySlide," but all that keeps coming up is "SEDonaldson." Your site will not allow me to fix it. That IS your problem to fix now and I do think that is mandatory. I also don't appreciate you telling me that I will "regret" anything. I do not regret standing up for myself. You should regret having a career where you think it is morally ok to defame people. Your parents would be so proud.

Sarah

And Here's Another Lady You Pissed Off

To whom it may concern,

I was connected to your site through a link in a sports article from Yahoo.com. I was thrilled to see a story featuring a female Jayhawks fan with a beautiful back-piece tattoo. However, I was then disgusted to read some of the comments posted below…

AzureTexan

11:25 AM

Hmmm, a Kansas skank. If she clicks her heels three times with enough force, a ping-pong ball will fall out. #kansasjayhawks Reply

Artie Fufkin

09:58 AM

The frat brother with his letters tatooed on his ankle looks like a pus now. Doesn't mean he won't date rape her later. #kansasjayhawks Reply

Hit Bull Win Steak

09:43 AM

alright, the tattoo I can sort of understand, but was the rhinoplasty to get the Jayhawk's beak really necessary? #kansasjayhawks Reply

I then noticed y'all didn't have any women on staff. I would suggest that if you want a female following and fan base (yes there are die hard female fans out there… Look at Jayhawk Kat) you might want to censor out some of these ignorant comments that perpetuate gender stereotypes.. I am fairly sure this email will not go anywhere and nothing will change, but that does not change the fact that by allowing comments like these to be posted you are directly contributing to gender inequity in sport and reinforcing harmful gender stereotypes. At the very least please keep the female sports fan in mind when running future stories and concerning future content.

Thank you for your time,

Liz J. Titus

I Miss You, Too, Philly

So what the fuck? the bigwigs in New York keeping you down from talking shit? I speak for every Philadelphian who read this site and enjoyed the hell out of your writing on the way to being "THE WORLD FUCKING CHAMPIONS" . Talk some shit big boy. Or aren't you really in charge of the site. Sixers beat the Knicks, Birds sent the Giants back up the turnpike with their tails between their legs and now we have a shot to even it up and you ain't a smart ass? Council Rock pussy, Neshaminy '79 says stand up to those New York Gawker fucks and say I'm Philly and I'm Proud!!

Hope to see some better shit-talking tomorrow on the verge of game seven. AND STILL, THE REIGNING WFC's, THE PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sincerely,

Mike G.

If Anyone Needs A Brazilian Football Or Soccer Coach

Good Afternoon,
I'm Oilson Silva, live in the city of Curitiba in Brazil.
I am looking for an opportunity to work with football or soccer in the United States of America.
play soccer since I was 11 years.
Currently I'm 27 years old with a great knowledge of football.

I got this address by searching the Internet.
I'm sorry if I'm being inconvenient.
I hope you can help me!
Thank you!
I look forward to a response!

my phone is 41-xxxxxx

And If You Need Assistance Finding These Jobs, Contact Tommy Craggs

Hey Tommy great article, my name is mike im 17 and i just wanted to tell you that im a huge fan of the broncos and a bigger football fan in general but i wanted to ask you how a person would go about trying to get a coaching job in the NFL im really interested.

Thanks again, Mike

And We've Also Started To Get Larry Johnson's Mail

Larry,read the news-report that stated you are suspended from playing because of a remark concerning homosexuals...I urge you NOT to recant or take back your statement even if it cost you your job....God made Male and Female,and never made an in between sex...The whole country is fearful of the homosexual-lesbian coalition...Talk show host,Politicians and many pastors are bowing to this vile sickness called gay....Your stand against this behaviour is correct...God warned of such sexual sin and called it sodomy...All three major religeons condemn such behaviour...Brother Johnson,stand up for your belief and never bow to homosexual-lesbian sin....you may lose your job,but,never lose your character or compromise your integrity... Prophet H Walker(overseer)
True Light Pentecost Church

Oh, Aren't You Clever

Hey A.J.,

So I'm walking to the train tuesday morning and I find out that the neighborhood cat "Suede" has gone missing. Is there any chance you guys can forward this to Psycho T so we can get Suede home. If he can bring Sarah back to that irresponsible black girl, then I think he can find Suede.

Thanks,
Chubs P.

Yes, David Stern Is A Huge Fan Of Nazi Shark

Apparently David Stern reads deadspin. All rejoice.

On the Dan Patrick show David Stern said they can't do anything about Tim Donaghy's book. He hasn't read the whole book. "I have read the excerpts that were on Deadspin," Stern said.

OK, I have done some further investigation (ie: she confirmed my wife as a FB friend). Basically, there's no doubt that it's her—there are pictures of her on her wall as the I LIV 4 THIS, and numerous people congratulating her. She also responds in the comments to one post that it was her.

We decided against sending you a bunch of screenshots of her FB page, since it's kind of weird to FB friend someone just so you can reveal their identity to a sports blog. My wife sent Amy a message with a link to the Deadspin post, so we left it to her to get in touch with you.

If she doesn't, we all can live with the private knowledge that IL4T girl is named Amy W.

And...she did.

Hi A.J.

I am responding to your "absurd mission impossible post". An old friend from HS said they saw this post on facebook and knew that I was the "I LIV 4 THIS" girl from TV and said I should respond so here I am. I saw that girl Sarah's post. You can tell that girl Sarah that I only have Sisters....sorry to disappoint and the reason there is no "E" on the end of the shirt is because it wouldn't fit!!!

Anyway....here I am...don't know what else the girl wants or needs.

GO YANKEES! — Amy

So, Sarah, there's your answer — Amy is not your boyfriend's long, lost sister. It's a shame because she seems like such a pleasant woman and would be a great addition to anyone's family.

Witness: 10-year-old Kris Huggins, via the Florida Times-Union's Mark Woods

Testimony:

Practice wrapped up. The rest of the players were off the field. And Tebow was about to leave, too, when the officers said something to Tebow.

He trotted over to where Kris was standing, introduced himself and said, "Do you want to play some ball, buddy?"

Ask Kris if he remembers what his reaction was and he says, "It was like in the movies when someone's jaw falls the ground."

He was wearing sandals. When he left their house on the Southside, he wasn't exactly planning to run routes and catch passes from Tim Tebow. But did he want to play some ball?

[...]

Tebow and Kris started in the south end zone, working their way toward midfield. Tebow telling him where to run. Kris running, catching the ball - he only dropped one - and then throwing it back.

"He said I have a really good arm," Kris said.

His mother has told him that before. But somehow it's not the same as hearing it from a Heisman Trophy winner. Afterward, Tebow grabbed a ball, signed it and gave it to him.

Pertinent Scripture: Mark 10:14-16

He said to them, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it." And he took the children in his arms, put his hands on them and blessed them.

Please submit any evidence that Tim Tebow is our Redeemer to tips@deadspin.com.

You don't have to be a Tebow fan to appreciate this story [Florida Times-Union, via TimTeblog]

But hey, it's an easy post. So in the tradition of terrible horror movie franchises, we present yet another sequel to the original Sport-O-Ween. This time it's wrestlers, swimmers, way too much Kenny Powers, and easily the most offensive costume you've seen yet. Too soon? You bet your ass it's too soon.

Let's just get all the Kenny P.s out of the way right now. Kevin H. is best.
Do you think he had to buy the Zubaz or were they already in his closet? [Submitted by Jill R.]
Yeah, he probably had them already. [Submitted by J.F.]
I think HBO should have given us more money. Seriously, you guys really loved this show. [Submitted by Andrew D.]
He's no Bode Lubber, but Baby Birdman definitely has the cutest sleeve tattoos of the year. [Submitted by Kurt R.]
I have no idea what's going on here. I'm just glad Bob Barker isn't alive to see this. [Submitted by Joel S.]
Alex B. will shove this costume down your fucking throat.
Ben S. calls this one "Clubhouse Cancer" because ... tumors = hilarity.
Hulk.... [Submitted by Jon B.]
Macho Man.... [Submitted by Casey C.]
Hulk and Macho Man. The circle is complete. [Submitted by Murphy]
Later, these two made sweet, sweet love in the "production truck." (Which was actually a port-a-john behind the stadium.) They kept the masks on. [Submitted by Matt O.]
A little surprised it took this long to get a Phelps with Bong. [Submitted by "The Boil Over"]
But more than one person still had their '08 costume ready to go. [Submitted by Allen Q.]
Whoa. I didn't not see that coming. I guess this is post-suspension and Doritio-loving Phelps. [Submitted by Ray B.]
Ricky Vaughn or a regular dude in a Cleveland jersey on a Saturday night?
Again, that might just be the actual Rangers looking for a game. Or your sloppy seconds. [Submitted by Karen M.]
Steve-O's Tyson costume is impregnable. [Submitted by CJ]
I think this "David Ortiz" is the one that really needs some performance enhancers. [Submitted by Brad K.]
Now we're down to the nitty gritty. Blood, mayhem and sweatpants. [Submitted by Brad S.]
I always knew those two were up to something. [Submitted by Mark C.]
Not there yet ... wait for it ... [Submitted by Chris]
Ding! Ding! Ding! I think we have a solid winner for most offensive costume of the year. So much detail, yet he couldn't spring for the Titans jersey! Watch my head as I slowly shake it in disappointment for humanity. [Submitted by Chris]

Hi AJ & Crew –

I'm sure you are sifting through a ton of emails after the WS last night, but I have a favor to ask. So remember that girl that FOX kept showing? The one who couldn't be bothered to add the extra "E" to her "I LIV 4 THIS" custom jersey? Well, she looks exactly like my boyfriend. The resemblance is frightening. She looks more like him than either of his sisters do. As far as we know, there are no other relatives running around unaccounted for, but she looks too much like him to not be related to him in some way.

So my favor is, can you guys post this so we can figure out who she is? If you guys can find Jose Lima, I'm sure you can find this girl.

Thanks guys,

Sarah

PS – if you guys end up seeing this and not posting it, could you at least just tell Big Daddy Drew that I love him? Thanks.

So to reiterate this absurd mission impossible: Please identify the "I LIV 4 THIS" woman so Sarah here can figure out if that person is a blood relative of her boyfriend. Christ.

With apologies to the fans currently suffering in Cleveland and Oakland, this has been a banner year for quarterbacking in the NFL. Brett Favre was the Offensive Player of the Week last week after he torched the Packers for 4 TD's. But, endless Favre hype aside, you could have picked any quarterback's name out of a hat last week and probably found someone worthy of the same honor. McNabb. Flacco (he went 20 for 25). Romo. Rodgers. Even Vince Young… VINCE FUCKING YOUNG… shined last week. Every Sunday seems to bring in a new batch of banner QB performances, and if you think it's more noticeable than in years past, you might be correct.

Currently, as we cross midseason, there are SEVEN quarterbacks in the league with a QB rating of 100 or higher (Favre, Rodgers, Manning, Schaub, Brees, McNabb, Big Ben). If the season finished that way, it would be the most QB's in league history to finish with a rating that high, and by nearly double the previous record. This doesn't even count QB's like Tom Brady, Tony Romo, and Philip Rivers, all of whom are knocking on the door of a 100 passer rating and could easily end the season well above it. There are also TWELVE QBs with a passer rating of 90 or better. Again, if that number holds, it would be another league record. Here now, going back to 1999, are the number of 100-rating and 90-rating passers in the league:

2009: Seven 100-rating passers, twelve 90-rating passers
2008: 1, 9
2007: 3, 8
2006: 1, 8
2005: 2, 8
2004: 4, 11
2003: 1, 6
2002: 1, 4
2001: 1, 5
2000: 2, 7
1999: 1, 5

Going back even further, 1989 had one 100-rating passer and two 90-rating passers. 1979 had just one 90-rating passer and no one over 100. And 1969 had no quarterbacks over the 90 rating at all. Of course, quarterbacks weren't allowed to actually throw the ball back then, so that's understandable. Passing has obviously evolved over the decades. But we've been in a big passing era for a while now. Why the sudden jump?

It could simply be the rather arbitrary nature of how the passer rating stat is compiled. But a rating over 100 usually indicates that you're playing some pretty good football. Carp about McNabb being in there all you like, the guy has still has a TD-to-pick ratio of 9-to-1. He's even completing 60% of his passes! GOLD STAR FOR DONNIE!

I remember growing up that surpassing the 100 rating was a really big fucking deal. Only Joe Montana ever did it with any consistency. Then Steve Young duplicated the feat, with Troy Aikman joining him on occasion. Otherwise, a rating that high was well out of reach for most of the league's passers, and has remained that way. So why are so many QB's crashing through the ceiling right now? Why are they, in theory, killing so many defenses?

Well, the answer the league will probably give you is that the QB's are just that good. Four layers of quarterback classes are playing excellent football right now. One very old guy, Favre, is doing well. Brilliant, relatively younger veterans like Manning and Brady are also lighting it up. Then you have the Rivers/Big Ben/Manning class, one of the best in league history, followed by Matt Ryan and Joe Flacco coming of age. That's four different "generations" of QB's all together in the league at the same time, which makes for great football.

But I think something is amiss is a world where Kyle Orton has a passer rating of 95.5, and that something would be rules. Yeah, these QB's are all playing lights out, but it helps when the league has established rule after rule to help keep their jerseys clean. This year, in particular, the number of bullshit roughing the passer calls has gotten way out of hand. How many fucking horrible calls have you seen this year, where the defender was penalized simply for running into the passer just as the ball has left his hand? What's a pass rusher to do? Your job is to go kill the quarterback, and now you have no clue what's gonna get you flagged and what isn't.

I thought this was a good theory. But I posed the question of why passer ratings are improving so dramatically to two men who know football far better than I do: Aaron Schatz of Football Outsiders and Michael David Smith of FanHouse. Here is what Schatz thinks:

I don't think it has to do with rule changes, I think it has to do with changes in offensive philosophy. It's related to the rise of the spread shotgun, because…

a) Shotgun formations are more efficient than standard formations in pretty much every situation, except short-yardage (Ed. Note: Todd Haley is likely unaware of this)

b) Percentage of plays from shotgun have risen at a ridiculous rate in recent years, to the point where the team that uses shotgun the least is using it more than the league average from a few years ago

c) A lot of these passes are short — the slants, smokes, and bubble screens — which has created all-time highs for completion percentages and all-time lows for interception rates.

He's right, of course. Bubble screens account for 90% of the Redskins' playbook alone. MDS says it could also be a result of more goal line passing:

Passer rating's reliance on completion percentage yards per attempt and touchdown percentage favors those short slants from the shotgun. Also, Aaron probably has the data on this, but it seems to me that teams are throwing more in goal line situations which would increase quarterbacks' touchdown percentage — the fourth element of passer rating — as well.

So both Schatz and Smith argue that trends in the passing game have proven to conform with the elements of passer rating formula that get you the most favorable outcome, particularly of late. But that still doesn't account for why there's been such a pronounced jump only this year. And why have so many of these QB's have managed to stay so healthy? Think about it. Of the top dozen passers in the league, only McNabb has missed any significant time. Perhaps it's a result of the Brady Rule working, and quarterbacks staying healthier so they can play better? Schatz:

The change isn't dramatic in one year. Based on DVOA, anyway, passing this year is actually slightly down from a year ago. There's a bit more variation between good and bad quarterbacks, but that's in part because there's more variation between the good and bad teams. Roughing the passer calls aren't really up this year either, and I've looked — good quarterbacks don't really draw more roughing calls than bad quarterbacks. And sacks per pass attempt are actually UP in 2009, so jerseys aren't being kept clean.

Overall, I hate to say this, but this is one where the stats simply don't agree with your conjecture. I know we want to believe that this roughing the passer thing has affected QB play, because those flags are so stupid and frustrating, but it hasn't. It has just created some
stupid and frustrating flags.

Translation: "Give it up, Drew. Your theory is pointless and retarded." Fair enough. The passer rating has been manipulated by short-pass, shotgun offenses, and it isn't giving us a good tool to compare quarterbacks historically. BUT I STILL HATE THOSE STUPID AND FRUSTRATING FLAGS! I SAY THE REFS ARE JUICING THE GAME AND TURNING THIS WHOLE THING INTO A PUSSY CARNIVAL, DAMMIT. I know it in my gut!

The Games
All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

Texans at Colts: I hate you, Steve Slaton. I hate you so fucking much. Where are you from? Levittown, PA? Well, fuck that town, too. And fuck Immaculate Conception Elementary School, which you attended. Sounds like a dickhead school to me. Wikipedia says that, "Until first grade, congestion in his ears rendered Slaton completely deaf at times." Well, I wish you had STAYED deaf, you bastard. So you'd never hear your name called to come into the game and RUIN MY FUCKING LIFE WITH YOUR FUMBLING RETARDERY. Goddamn no good piece of shit. And I hate you too, Ryan Moats. I know damn well that, even though I got you off waivers, you're never going to duplicate that performance again. Fucking Texans running game. Life is shit.

Cowboys at Eagles: There was no Sunday Night game last night in deference to the World Series, and I really could have used one. I enjoy watching the World Series. But on Saturday, I swear Andy Petitte threw to first to attempt to pick off the runner at least 4,000 times. They showed a stat saying Petitte led the league in throwing to first. ANDY PETITTE DOES NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR EXCITEMENT. There's no limit on such things in baseball, which angers me. In theory, you could throw to first a billion times in a row, literally, and it would still be perfectly legal. The only thing keeping some asshole like Petitte doing it is the threat of angry fans running onto the field to knife him. And I think that should be allowed. Stop your game delay tactics, or get shivved in the goddamn ribs.

Steelers at Broncos: I can't take Jaws and Gruden anymore. I really can't. THESE GUYS… I TELL YOU WHAT… THESE GUYS WOULD BE OUTSTANDING IF I DIDN'T WANT TO RAPE THEM WITH A BACKHOE. They love every player. They never shut the fuck up. And they steadfastly refuse to say anything but the full name of every team. I tell you what, Jaws, THE NEW ORLEANS SAINTS HAVE AN OUTSTANDING OFFENSE. When the NEW ORLEANS SAINTS have the ball, you know THE NEW ORLEANS SAINTS ARE GONNA SCORE! It's one thing to never shorten "National Football League" to NFL, but Christ, now they're doing it with every team they cover? It's horrible. They are a fungus on my broadcast. They get louder and chattier every week. WE LIKE TO CALL ANNOUNCERS LIKE THAT JOKERS, BECAUSE THEY ARE EVIL. JOKER JOKER JOKER!

And Jaws, TALK LIKE A NORMAL FUCKING PERSON. Stop fucking orating. You aren't giving a speech to the goddamn UN.

Chargers at Giants: The TV listings last week showed that BET was showing a movie called Charlie Murphy's Frankenhood. According to IMDB, Frankenhood was directed by Blaxwell Smart, and the plot centers around, "Two guys who work at a morgue enlist the services of a reanimated corpse to better their chances at a streetball tournament." There needs to be a comprehensive listing of comedic coattail riders. Charlie Murphy riding Dave Chappelle's. The Seinfeld cast riding Larry David's. You need a list like that, to warn people to stay the fuck away from any solo comedic projects done by these people. These people are like Belichick's underlings. One of my friends saw JB Smoove do stand-up in New York (jokes not written by Larry David) and left midway through.

Ravens at Bengals: Bill Barnwell of Football Outsiders DID confirm that injuries among all QB's are down this year.

Here's the number of games missed by starting QBs through Week 8 in each of the last three years:

07: 29 (Bulger 2, Delhomme 4, Garrard 1, Green 3, Jackson 3, Leinart 2, Losman 3, McCown 4, McNair 3, Pennington 1, Smith 2, Young 1)

08: 28 (Brady 6, Croyle 5, Garcia 1, Hasselbeck 3, Kitna 3, Palmer 4, Romo 2, Young 4)

09: 14 (Bulger 1, Cassel 1, Edwards 2, Hasselbeck 2, McNabb 2, Pennington 4, Stafford 2)

So then, that's a 50% drop in quarterback injuries from the first half of either of the last two seasons. Might be something to that, although there are some mitigating issues for last year (Lions were looking for an excuse to put Kitna on IR). And injury numbers from ‘06 and ‘09 are the same.

So you could take that sampling and say the Brady Rule has perhaps succeeded in reducing injuries (probably not anywhere near a big enough sample to confirm it, but whatever). But where is the fun in placing bounties on QB's if you know they can't be hurt, I ask you?

By the way, Chris Henry looks like a black version of the blue aliens from Avatar. YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE (does wacky alien sign language). That movie looks retarded.

Four Throwgasms

Dolphins at Patriots: Every time someone goes down with a head injury in the NFL, the TV cameraman will always, without fail, find a shot of a woman in the stands with her hands cupped over her mouth, in apparent shock over seeing someone injured at a football game. It's football, lady. Guys get hit. That's the point. Stop acting like you just saw Kennedy get shot.

Three Throwgasms

Panthers at Saints: I can't find a picture online, but the Saints had a mascot the other night named Mr. Saint who was just a guy wearing a fucking giant head with a massive chin. Everyone in the KSK live blog stopped and said WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? The Saints official mascot would appear to be Gumbo the Dog, who is both stupid and gay. So where did this mysterious, Lenoesque second mascot come from? I DEMAND ANSWERS.

UPDATE: TurlieGirlie comes through with a pic of Sir Saint. Baffling.

Cardinals at Bears

Two Throwgasms

Titans at 49ers

One Throwgasm

Redskins at Falcons: Brent Grimes' pick of Drew Brees on Monday Night pictured here) was the awesomest pick I've seen since Charles Woodson had that skyscraper pick against Michigan State back in '97. So cool.

Packers at Bucs: Bay of Pigs! THAT JOKE NEVER GETS OLD, BOOM!

Chiefs at Jaguars: And here, courtesy of KSK reader Tim Tebow's Girlfriend's Tits, comes a sign allegedly posted outside the Chiefs locker room. LOSERS ASSEMBLE IN SMALL GROUPS TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THE COACHES AND OTHER PLAYERS. WINNERS ASSEMBLE AS A TEAM AND FIND A WAY TO WIN. Just rolls off the tongue. Todd Haley is awful. Hey Todd, here's an idea: How about just cutting Larry Johnson, instead of putting up a retarded sign?

Lions at Seahawks: I keep seeing ads for the Family Guy special. Seth MacFarlane looks like a fucking douche. Semi-Donny Osmondesque.

This Week In The Browns' Collapse
Good news, Browns fans! Your team fired GM George Kokinis! Who? He was your horrible GM! But don't worry! Head coach Eric Mangini says things are totally gonna be cool now:

We felt that organizationally this was the best decision in order to move forward.

The Browns hired Mangini and then let him choose his own GM, which is like taking a piss before you lift the lid. Owner Randy Lerner is already looking for a replacement, with former Giants GM Ernie Accorsi mentioned as a candidate. According to the ever-lofty Peter King, the Browns are now eating the contracts of two GM's they fired in the span of less than a year, to the tune of tens of millions of dollars. Whoever they bring in is virtually certain to can Mangini and start fresh. This is good, until you consider just how many times Cleveland has started fresh since 1999. There were the Policy/Palmer Browns. Then the Butch Davis Browns. Then the Crennel/Savage Browns. Now they're going to start over again in record time, and they have the absolute WORST roster in the NFL, which is saying something when you consider how awful teams like Oakland and St. Louis are.

Owner Randy Lerner has already profusely apologized for the horrible losing, AND he sat down with two Browns fans this week to try and make amends.

Randall said Lerner was receptive to their ideas for improving the Browns' game-day experience at Cleveland Browns Stadium (Ed Note: I bet they wanted wider seats) and even tossed out a few of his own. Randall, who has met Lerner several times, came away impressed with the owner's passion and determination to get the Browns turned around.

The Browns' misfortunes have come at the expense of both rotten luck and bad judgment with their hirings. But at least the owner there seems to give a shit. At least he knows better than to meddle. And at least Mangini is going to be fired. It's a lot more than the lame and empty apology Dan Snyder gave to fans earlier this week. Dan will only invite you to a private meeting so he can burn your homemade sign saying HI to your cancer-riddled child.

Pregame Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

"Private Hell," by Alice in Chains. God dammit, I can't stop listening to this album. Anytime I find an album I really like, I just MURDER the poor thing by listening to it 5,000 times in a row, and then never listening to it again. Anyway, great song. I can't recommend their new album enough. To think you can lose your lead singer, go on hiatus for 14 years, and come back sounding this strong is pretty badass.

Fun Fact about AIC: One the first names they had for the band was Fuck, The Band. They passed out rubbers with the band name on it at early shows.

WHO GOT THE HOOCH?!

WHO GOT THE ONLY SWEETEST THING IN THE WORLD? WHO GOT LOOOOVE, WHO GOT THE FRESHY FRESHY?!!

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Eco-friendly, waterless toilets giving you unwanted splashback, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Players That Deserve To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Matt Forte and LaDainian Tomlinson. Oh, so NOW you two fuckers decide to produce? Nice timing, assholes. I WILL CUT OFF YOUR BALLS AND POUR IODINE ON IT. By the way, every league has at least one team that has a good roster, yet for some reason gets every other team's best performance every week. So they end up 1-7 because the schedule shit all over them, despite being in the top 5 in total scoring for the year or something like that. It's happened to you, and it's happened to me, and it makes you want to poison the world's water supply. The only solution to this is to go to roto league format, but roto league formatting blows.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Chicago was correct, making me 7-1 on the year. That puts the Bears, Colts, Eagles, Vikings, Texans, Ravens, Saints and Skins off the board now. We once again pick a team for your suicide pool and something that makes you WANT to commit suicide. This week's pick? Atlanta, and the advent of the Favre Cam. Obviously, the entire idea of the fucking Favre Cam was offensive last Sunday. But the more disturbing question is, who used it? Because someone surely did. Someone out there turned away from the game broadcast for a moment so they could stare at Favre on the sidelines doing nothing. What kind of person would do this? I dunno. Maybe Biloxi Jim. Or perhaps T Dizzle, who loves feet. Regardless, someone out there, bafflingly, was happy for the Favre Cam. We must find such people and gas them out of existence. You know it's the right thing to do.

Nazi Shark's Vegas Lock Of The Week
Lots of sports sites, to demonstrate the arbitrary nature of gambling, like to have animals like monkeys pick games to see if they can outwit their human counterparts. There's no reason we at Deadspin can't also get in on the fun. So we've asked National Socialist German Workers' Party member Rolf, who also happens to be a shark, to pick one game a week. Take it away, Nazi shark.

"This week, I like the Texans getting 9 points on the road against the Colts. I see the Republicans won big governorships on Tuesday night. You know, these constant shifts in political momentum strike me as awfully hollow. It seems to me that most Americans hate ALL politicians equally, regardless of political affiliation. They simply use the election process to kick out one party in favor of another party that they'll end up firing the next go round. The problem, then, is not that Americans choose their leaders poorly, but rather that they have set up a political system that attracts nothing but the most incompetent and arrogant people. Such a shame. Only one group of people could be the architects of a system this evil and corrupt. THE JEWS. Did you know Jews are descended from wolves? Well, they are."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 5-3. Hmm. Seems Nazi Shark started a cold streak at the exact same time Mr. Bill Simmons did. Coincidence, OR NAZI BETTING CONSPIRACY?

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was That Guy. He did not come to claim his prize. This week's winner was J. Burns, who also leads the overall pool. Mr. Burns, come and claim your rant prize.

Great Moments In Poop History
Another week, another steaming pile of pungent stories. This week's story comes from Matt W. I call it, "The Poopgoat":

I was in the 8th grade at a Catholic school, and I played on the CYO (Catholic Youth Organization) basketball team. You didn't have to go to the school to play on the team, so there were kids on the team from the neighborhood that weren't in my class. There were only two of us on the team that actually went to school there. During practice one night, I was struggling to hold back a poop. There was only about 40 minutes of practice left, and I thought I could wait it out until practice is over. Usually if I fight it for a few minutes, the turtle will recede into its shell, and I'm good for another hour or two. Not this time. I was struggling for the final 40 minutes of practice. Crippling stomach pains. I had to run around the court on my toes, to keep from blowing ass all over the hardwood.

Oh, I've done that. Dunno what it is about a full rectum that makes you go tip toe.

The moment practice was over, I ran to the bathroom. As I hustled from the front door of the bathroom to the first stall, I gracefully started to pull down my shorts in one fluid, graceful motion. I entered the stall, and spun around to sit down, ready for the sweet relief. Didn't go as planned. As I spun my ass toward the bowl, I relaxed my bowels a split second too soon, unleashing a torrent of loose stool across the side wall of the stall, and all over the back of the toilet and the wall behind the toilet. I destroyed that stall. Shit everywhere.

The next day at school, me and the other guy from my class that was on the team got called to the principal's office. She sat us down, and explained that someone had defecated all over the bathroom in the gym, and the 8th grade team was the only team to have practice last night. Then she just looked at us. The words hung in the air. "Someone defecated all over the gym bathroom."

My heart sank. I was found out! The jig was up! I decided I needed to confess. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was interrupted by the principal. She said, "Whoever did this is a very sick individual and needs help. This person smeared their own feces all over the walls." What?? I wasn't a sick individual. I just couldn't hold it in. She continued, "I want to know if either of you saw any creepy men hanging around the gym last night, trying to talk to young boys. Because we're now on the lookout. Did you two see anything suspicious?" I was safe!! I made up a lie about seeing some shady men playing pickup games on the outside courts — suspicious looking dudes who looked like they might enjoy smearing poop in public places. The principal thanked me for keeping my eyes open for bad guys.

Not only did I avoid getting caught for pooping all over the place, but I got a fucking merit badge for vigilance.

Well done. Matt W. brings up a salient observation. If you have befouled a bathroom that is NOT yours, you will never clean up your own mess. Ever. I've never known anyone who destroyed an office or restaurant toilet and then volunteered to clean up the wreckage his or herself. Does that mean we're all horrible people? I don't think so. I think it just means we don't like cleaning up our own shit if we don't have to. It's almost a fable.

Fire This Asshole!
Is there anything more exciting than a coach losing his job? All year long, we'll keep track of which coaches will almost certainly get fired at year's end or sooner. And now, your updated chopping block:

Tom Cable*
Jim Zorn
Eric Mangini
Jim Mora
Jeff Fisher
Dick Jauron
Jack Del Rio*
Todd Haley
John Fox
Norv Turner
Raheem Morris
Lovie Smith

For those keeping score at home, Tom Cable has now been accused of breaking an employee's jaw AND being a serial domestic abuser. He's also a terrible coach who hasn't improved Oakland one bit. And the Raiders STILL haven't fired him. I say he test the waters even further. Perhaps blind an orphan. I wonder just what it would take for Cable to be fired, given that no one else would ever want his horrible job.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

M&M's! You know, they say the milk chocolate melts in your mouth, and not in your hand. And that's all well and good. But they don't say SHIT about the dye from the shell getting on your hands. As a card-carrying member of the sweaty-palmed, I can assure you the shell DOES melt in your hands. Especially if I hold a handful of M&M's for longer than five seconds. After that, it looks like I just smacked a clown.

Ever get those mint M&M's during the holidays? I could eat a barrel of those. I tried ranking the four main M&M varieties for today (plain, peanut, peanut butter, and dark), but it's impossible. It's like choosing a favorite child. I can't put the peanut butter ones last. Peanut butter M&M's are unreal.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week
I'm awash in obscure cheap beer, and I couldn't be happier. Longtime DS commenter Silky JohnSTON! brings us the Chinese malted beverage sensation known as… REEB!

Here is my favorite beer of all time: REEB. It's sold in China, and when I went there with my brother for a trip, as we walked the grocery store aisles for food that looked like it came from a "mainstream" animal or processing plant, we saw it, in between tanks of live horseshoe crabs for sale. Never mind the fact that most people in China don't speak English and wouldn't get the joke if it was just called "Beer", but they had to go and put it in reverse!

Easily the top booze highlight of the trip, more so that seeing the bottle of Ukranian Wheat vodka (just threw up a little in my mouth) we had one night at the club. Anyway, hope it entertains you as much as it did me.

Indeed it does. I also liked the use of the phrase "mainstream animals". If you're in an alleyway eating dog steak, you are 100% indie, people.

Robert Evans' MVP Watch!
Time to start thinking about who the leaders are for the NFL's MVP award. So every week, legendary Hollywood producer Robert Evans will join us to give us his assessment. Take it away, Mr. Evans.

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP this year is a TIE between Drew Brees of the Saints and Peyton Manning of the Colts! I heard Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin are hosting this year's Oscars, and I consider both men dear, dear friends. Smart? YOU BET! Crazy after a bottle of Grappa? LIKE WILD BABOONS! In his autobiography, Stevie laid out some precious advice: Don't ask the waitress for her number the first time you go to the restaurant. Get it when you COME BACK the next go round. Sound advice, baby. And that's why Evans gets a little EXTRA service every time he goes drinking at the Ground Round! Thanks for the good times, Beverly, and Cindy, and Rita, and Angie, and Amber, and Kelly, and Anita, and Doris, and Tammy! And you too, Greg! Hey, sometimes you gotta try something new on the menu!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Bucs Fans

Pleasantville. I'm not actually recommending this movie. But I never got a chance to complain about this horrible piece of shit when I first saw it, so I'll do that here. Only in Hollywood would they find a way to have white characters be persecuted for being "colored". Fuck you, Gary Ross. Oh my God, the people who are in color are hip and liberated, and the people stuck in black and white are stodgy and repressed! That metaphor isn't telegraphed at all! This movie joins "The Contender" and "Dave" (also written by Gary Ross) in the category of Liberal Message Movies That Make Me Wish I Wasn't Fairly Liberal. I fucking hated this movie, and anyone who likes it is an asshole. (Even you, Roger.)

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Here at Itchy and Scratchy Land we're just as concerned about violence as you are. That's why we're always careful to show the consequences of deadly mayhem, so that we may educate as well as horrify."

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: From KOGOD comes the NSFW (but kinda worth the risk) Fuck Yeah Brazilian Girls Tumblr site. Honestly, I don't know why every other country on Earth hasn't volunteered to be a colony of Brazil. Brazil should be the dominant global hegemonic power. They've earned it.
-For the gals: Actor Chace Crawford. Is he giving the double hang loose sign? What a loser.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

Since getting the good news, we've yet to hear back from Marina Valdez, the woman who requested the Deadspin Search Party be put on the former Yankee utility person, but we'll update as soon as we do.

Oh, and Jose Lima's post has also been updated with a "FOUND" stamp. Classy.

Everyone who helped locate Mr. Wilson should fist-pound themselves at their desk. (Not a euphemism.)

Now, call your daughter, Enrique!

So here's the second (and hopefully final) round of Sports-O-Ween. Even Michael Myers didn't die this hard.

A-Rod and Jeter as a gay couple? This is just so insensitive I can't even believe that.... What? These two dudes are actually gay? Oh well, in that case it's freakin' brilliant. [Submitted by JP, who adds "yes, they are awesome homosexuals"]
These guys went as Luke Ridnour, Carlos Boozer, Bill Walton, Shawn Bradley, Zydrunas Ilgauskas, Pau Gasol and Coach Erik Spolestra. Also known as "the only seven NBA personalities who never successfully secured road beef." [Submitted by Michael O.]
This costume is labeled as "Derek Jeters Herpes Tree." So the Phillies are the tree or he gave them herpes? I'm so confused. [Submitted by James G.]
Adam M. writes: "My buddy dressed up as Kenny Powers (I'm sure you've gotten lots of these but the one that was already posted isn't very good in my opinion.)" I agree. The pregnant Kenny Powers with the bad wig and fake mustache was much better.
Jason T. dips into the Kenny P. well one more time, only with a new wrinkle. The guy who made a cameo appearance on two episodes! I'm pretty sure the wig is on backwards.
Bill K. got his picture taken with Eddie George as a gladiator. The sad part? This wasn't on Halloween.
The Tiger Woods family? Oh, did you really have to rope the poor child into this? [Submitted by Sam W.]
Really? I ... you know what? Let's just move on.
Matthew B. sucked it up as "The Vumpire." I'm not judging until I see the instant replay.
Dave K. can't wait for the Andre Agassi book to arrive. I think Andre's wig was much more believable.
Joe J. has now gone four days without trying to snort baking powder.
A little too real, isn't it? [Submitted by Brad B.]

Good job asking the skinniest guy in your group to play the Hulkster and lamely choosing Slim Jim-era Macho Man over the original version. No wonder it's not a real sport. [Photo sumbitted by Kevin D.]
The legacy of great Jets quarterbacks will never die. (The legacy is embarrassment, of course.) [Photo by Driven By Boredom]
A costume from The Program? That certainly was a movie that came out once! [Submitted by Jim C.]
Patrick Kane meets his nemesis ... a guy who can afford to screen print a t-shirt with the words "Buffalo Taxi Service." I hope that cost more than 20 cents. [Submitted by Daniel G.]
This is continuing the series from the other day. The Football Ladies were actually part of a larger group of No. 4 backers. Pretty clever, even if it was just an excuse to walk around Madison with no pants on all night. [Submitted by Andrew B.]
Commenter MeQuickWantSlow remembered the 80's long enough to break out the Teen Wolf togs. I always figured him for a Republican.
I"m sure the gunslinger would be very proud. [Submitted by J.K.]
Finally, one more take on the "someone sucking one else's dick" theme. As if today's press members would ever wear a hat like that. [HolyTaco]

I guess is a tradition for these players to do that..I have a daughter with Enrique Wilson (former Yankee player) and he also stopped paying child support and has never call his daughter again, his place to escape and be child support free…Dominican Republic…I have been searching for him for the past 3 years and no one can tell me exactly were he is at, until 2 weeks ago that my cousin was watching a game and saw him playing for a baseball team in the Dominican Republic...Can you put a search party out please...I'm willing to cooparte.. I can even send you a copy of how much he owes in child support

You heard the lady —now, activate the Lexis-Nexis side of your brain and help her find Enrique Wilson.

If these requests continue, this could become the blueprint for the most retardedly excellent reality show ever.

Below you'll find the winners from each week of FAILgate. Read them over again (if you'd like) or just start pressing buttons in the section below. Vote for your favorite number, if your brain is too cloudy to make a well-informed decision.

The winner will receive:

*A box full of sports books and other assorted items, like, food and stuff.

Yay! Read and vote.

WEEK 1 WINNER:

Freshman year at Auburn University. I had just started drinking heavily, and did so the night before the LSU game. We're out tailgating near the stadium. Not being familiar with the beer shits that follow binge drinking, I attempted a fart. But it came out wet and I notice the beershits trickling out of my shorts. So I make some BS excuse and take off sprinting towards the dorm to change pants. But I run behind a Jeep and directly into the bike rack hanging off the spare tire. I was clotheslined like Bradshaw had ran by and was flat on my back. With shit in my pants. My friends are laughing their ass off, but they still don't know why I was running so hard. It was because I had shit my pants. FAILGATE. Auburn won btw. Thank God I am not superstitious.

WEEK 2 WINNER:

When my group of friends were in college (roughly 2003-2007) at the University of Tennessee, we always represented ourselves well at tailgates. And by well, I mean we showcased drunken behavior that bordered on total disregard for any laws or code of ethics that exist in today's modern society.

However, for some reason our tailgates at away games were generally much more out of control and produced downright criminal behavior. One particular trip that stands out is a voyage we made down to UGA for the UT-Georgia game in 2006. There are several hilarious stories from this particular weekend, however the one that gets brought up most went something like this.

On this particular day, our friend [Redacted] was quite possibly the most inebriated human in Athens, GA. [Redacted] had downed what was being reported as "close to a handle of gin" by noon or so. Kick-off was around 8 p.m. that night. Long story short, everyone at the tailgate is fully aware of [Redacted]'s drunken state.

The kid has fallen down several times (as evident by his dirty...are those white jeans?) and is a total mess. Our friend [Redacted], in the navy hat decides to openly mock him in front of the entire tailgate for being so drunk.

[Redacted] defends himself by doing the only logical thing in his mind at that point; passionately kissing him on the mouth in front of nearly 100 close friends, attractive women, and total strangers.

The following pictures capture the moment incredibly well...[Redacted] is knocked down by a blow from [Redacted] and helped up to his feet. Meanwhile, [Redcacted] spits repetitively in disgust, then realizes that the forceful nature of a man on man kiss has destroyed his Ray Bans. He is then consoled by a good friend and announces to the tailgate that [Redacted] is "a lousy fucking kisser."

On a side note, [Redacted] later is taken to the hospital by a friend for alcohol poisoning. The friend is asked by the nurses in Athens if he "can get his friend to stop using so much loud profanity and being so uncooperative." [Redacted] is later seen holding a beer at a bar in a near catatonic state, hospital bracelet on wrist.

*names redacted because people don't want to get fired.

WEEK 3 WINNER:

My friend Dominic is a short, stocky, proud Italian with a short temper. One might say he has a case of small-man syndrome (hates everyone because they are taller than him). Dominic also has the inability to control his drunk. This story happens the weekend of last years Mizzou-Illinois game in St. Louis. Right before we leave Columbia he proudly announces that he doesn't plan on drinking that much...which we all knew was a lie. We reach St. Louis and meet up with my other friend Mark's family at their hotel near the Edward Jones Dome. After pregaming in the hotel and all of us taking our fair share of shots we were ready to head to the tailgate. At this point Dominic was already in a great mood, yelling at any and every Illinois fan in sight, no women or children were spared. To one Illinois mother and child he bellowed "You were born into the wrong fucking family baby!" To an elderly Illinois man, in his best Macho Man Randy Savage voice he yells "Illinois is going DOWN!!, THE WHOLE FUCKING STATE".

By the time we got to the tailgate the pregaming had kicked in (for everyone else anyway) and everyone was in full throttle drinking mode including parents and family friends. Shotgunning beers, Petron shots and boxing with MMA fighters in the gravel parking lot. After seeing Dominic posted up casually on the side of a truck, shitfaced, taking in the scenery with his penis hanging out of the crotch of his pants I knew it would be an eventful day.

It was time to go into the game and Dominic cannot walk. Luckily an ex-Mizzou alum Dominic had made friends with earlier (he was also Italian and Italians love talking about being Italian) was kind enough to throw him over his shoulder and slump his lifeless body to the stadium for us. After being refused at multiple gates, it was time for Plan B because we obviously weren't getting into the game. So we flagged a cab and threw Dominic in and took him back to Mark's car we left in a parking garage a few blocks away. There wasn't much life left in Dominic but he put up quite the fight and was determined get to the game that we had voluntarily abandoned for him already. We put him in the back of Mark's car hoping he would just pass out but to no avail. None of us wanted to babysit Dominic so we did the rational thing and stuck him in the back with the child locks on. Thinking that we had this problem taken care of we headed into the game. How naive we were.

Around half time our friend Bones (nickname from HS) gets a phone call, who else could it be but two Jamaican security guards, "Bones? Bones? Tis dis Bones? We found your friend Big Sexy, we have Big Sexy" (Dominic has a tattoo on his ass that says "Big Sexy" in the Italian colors of green, white, and red...I told you he is a very proud man). Bones leaves the game to go see what the hell was going on. He finds Dominic puking outside the parking garage with the two security guards. It turns out that Dominic had been found face down on the concrete in the middle of the parking garage (a floor down from the car at that), pants (and boxers) around his ankles, dick on the pavement, and had shat himself. Quite the mess. But Dominic still had one more trick up his sleeve. We walked back to the car and Mark erupts into anger "What the fuck?! What the fuck!!" There was glass all over the ground near Mark's car because his back seat window had been knocked out. Mark takes the empty plastic liquor handle he was holding and slings it directly into Dominic's forehead then slams him to the ground. Dominic was so fucked up he thought he had gone into the game with everyone else and took a lot of convincing before he finally believed us. Dominic was pissed off about being in the car and not being able to get out so he kicked out the side window, fell out of the car, crawled to his feet, wandered down a level only to fall down pass out face first in the middle of the garage driveway with his dick out and his pants covered in shit. We still aren't sure why his dick was out. Now that, is a true fan.

WEEK 4 WINNER:

The following isn't your typical FAILgate story. It doesn't involve cops, fights, trips to the drunk tank, or wang exposure to the innocent (at least that we were aware of). It's a story about a man and his hair-color-matching vest.

It was February 2006, about a dozen friends and I had descended upon the parking lots of Lambeau Field for a truly epic sporting event. Our beloved Wisconsin Badger hockey team was taking on the Ohio State Buckeyes in the first ever hockey game at Lambeau. We knew that a certain level of intoxication must be achieved to watch outdoor hockey in Green Bay that time of year, so we arrived early for the afternoon puck-drop.

The tailgating scene was fantastic, and we quickly made friends with the other reasonably sized groups of Badger fans nearby. And then an hour or two into it, we saw him. He was wandering around our area, completely shit-canned, and he was dressed in layers, topped off by a vest that remarkably was the exact same color as his hair. At the time, that aspect for some reason was hysterical to most of us. Thinking he was with one of the other groups, we asked around only to discover nobody really knew who he was. Could it be? Had destiny placed him in our midst?

Not caring enough to know his actual name, he immediately adopted the nickname Vest (did I mention his vest was the same color as his hair?). And Vest meant fucking business as he decided to impress us with his beer slamming abilities. We formed a circle around Vest, started a slow clap, and began to chant…

"Vest!...Vest!...Vest!..."

He ripped through that first PBR and triumphantly hurled the can one aisle over into a group of unsuspecting tailgaters, much to our delight. We suspect Vest might not have been drinking the entire can, as it doesn't seem there's any way one could throw an empty beer can that far. But I also didn't think a person could so perfectly match a vest to the color of his own hair.

Thinking he had done the job, Vest attempted to exit the circle. But we wanted more. The circle tightened as others gathered in, and someone tossed him another beer.

"Vest!...Vest!...Vest!..."

A group of probably 30 of us at this point were cheering on Vest as he continued to pound and hurl his somewhat empty beer cans with everything he had, miraculously not drawing the attention of cops who were patrolling the lot. This scene repeated itself for probably 5 total beers until Vest, clearly overcome by the enormity of his accomplishment, yacked all over the ground and himself.

Presumably using the motto "to be the best, you gotta beat the best," a friend of ours challenged Vest to a series of Franzia-bongs. Because if you're going to consume Franzia, it had better at least be through a beer bong. The challenge was also issued through a sumo pose of sorts…..I remember it making perfect sense at the time.

After the two successfully completed a few Franzia-bongs, Vest was gone just like that. Off to where, who knew? Well, we didn't know at the time, but now have an idea. After the weekend when I uploaded my pictures, I noticed something about Vest that a lot of us somehow had missed while we were in his presence; Vest was wearing a press pass, as you can see in the previous picture. Had we been blinded by the vest? Possibly. Either way, this leads one to believe that Vest had left our tailgate to head into the stadium with soaked clothes while reeking of PBR, Doritos, and stomach acid, and drunk off his ass to perform a job, one which he possibly had to interact with other people. Vest was clearly not about to let a job get in the way of a good tailgate, and for that he deserves the utmost respect.

The legend of Vest has lived on amongst our group of friends, as we frequently reminisce that glorious day. Roughly a year later, we heard a story about a writer for a Badger sports website who showed up at a Badger road football game to cover the game and ended up getting kicked out of the press box because he was wasted, argumentative with other reporters, and passed out during the 2nd quarter. Could this have been Vest? Who knows...maybe that's just how he rolls? Frankly I'm not sure I even want to know. I'm perfectly content remembering him as the mystery man who inspired dozens that frigid afternoon with his grit, his determination, and his exuberance. And also his vest.

WEEK 5 WINNER:

A series of events contributed to this particular FAILgate, events in which the principals go unpunished, except for a relatively innocent bystander.

The morning after Halloween in East Lansing was a perfect day for the UM-MSU tailgate, and my crew embarked upon it in costumed grandeur. Having little ambition due to being drunk the night before, my costume consited of a hockey mask. My hearty companions dressed up as Uncle Sam, a sperm, and a penis.

Our journey to the tailgating area inexplicably was without interference from law enforcement. As large crowds, including several police officers, passed in front of our prime partying spot on Grand River Ave, I proceeded to chug several beers through my hockey mask. This was much to the amusement of passing crowds, especially when I proceded to barf with my hockey mask still in place, creating an odd "sieving" effect. Despite gross distrubance of the peace, the police seemed preoccupied with crowd control.

We soon starting walking toward the tailgate, at one point passing a homeless fellow who happened to have a perfectly functional, albeit soiled, paper towel. Having puke all over my person, I made a fairly large deal out of purchasing this paper towel for $3, which got a cheer from the younger members of the crowd (older members who I assume were alumni, were not as amused).

Which brings us to the penis and sperm. In the meantime, sperm (dressed in all white with white extension cord hanging out of the ass to signify "motility") had to take a piss, right on the MSU student union. The penis, sensing a prime burn opportunity, speared the peeing sperm into the building and bushes, getting much attention and cheering from the crowd. The sperm, having richocheted off the brick facade, was bloodied in several places. This led to many people to believe that sperm was actually dressed as a used tampon the rest of the day. However, this assault still did not get the attention of police, still preoccupied with crowd control.

The "piss spearing" had a profound effect on Uncle Sam, and he refused to piss the rest of the walk. Having recently been busted for minor in possession of alcohol, he wished to maintain a low profile and avoid law enforcement as much as possible.

When we finally got to the tailgate, much attention was given to our entrance thanks to being accompanied by a 5 and a half foot bloody playtex plug. Uncle Sam seized the opportunity and ran into the woods to relieve himself. However, he somehow pissed no less than 20 feet from a sheriff's deputy, causing him to be detained for urination in public. Due to his recent legal troubles, he was detained at the county lockup.

Having no sober friends or relatives within 100 miles, Uncle Sam had to wait until the next day to be picked up from jail, still in full costume. Coincidentially, me and the penis scored student section tickets for $20, and penis pissed in the middle of the student section in the 2nd quarter.

WEEK 6 WINNER:

This fine young man was found in this state at about 8:45 a.m while tailgating for the annual Michigan-Michigan State game. A game which our friends in Ann Arbor would lead you to believe doesn't really matter, since MSU is not their rival. But I digress. Thousands of Walmart Wolverines descend on East Lansing every other year for this game. Every college-aged kid that knows someone enrolled at Michigan State will be making the trek to see how tailgating is really done, and with the hopes that they can participate in some couch burning or tear gas breathing. Year after year it never fails that hundreds, if not thousands of Chippewas, Cardinals, Bulldogs, Lakers, Broncos, Wolverines and the high school siblings of all of the above flock to East Lansing to participate.

Sometime around 8:00 am this young lad was seen stumbling around several tailgates, before coming to rest against a van. After an exchange with the owner of the vehicle, and some angry words from the young man's friend, the two stumbled away to drink more. Not 45 minutes later, after coming up for air from shotgunning a beer, my eyes were drawn to this young lad apparently sleeping on a van across the narrow parking lot from our tailgate tents.

Drawn to him like a bat to light (or is it moths?) several of us at our tailgate went to observe the beast in his natural habitat. After many pictures were snapped, including several onlookers posing next with him some semblance of humanity prevailed and someone called 911. Making their first run of the day, East Lansing's finest paramedics exited the vehicle saying only to us, "Is he a Michigan fan?"

After the young man was woken up by an onlooker just prior to the paramedics getting to him just 20 feet away, he tried to run, but apparently his brain did not tell his legs as he ate it and bloodied his nose against the van, all the while vomit trickling down his face and jacket. Some of it had even pooled in the folds of his excessively sagging pants. After the impromptu photo shoot the paramedics strapped him to the stretcher loaded him in the back and allowed MSU Police to write him his well deserved and hard earner Minor in Possession Ticket.

WEEK 7 WINNER:

In 2006 (I believe) some friends who are big Michigan fans and myself, a UMiami supporter, decided out of their love of Michigan and my love of college football (and more importantly Miami having an off week) that we'd head north from our Southern Indiana command center and take in the annual pillowfight that is IU vs. Michigan.. We arrived Friday night, and with beers cracked at 5:30am Saturday we headed into Ann Arbor to find a spot to plant our flag. We set up shop between a drug store and a car wash in an empty grass lot that during football season doubles as a parking lot.

No sooner than the first member of our team finished a beer, we were set upon by bums. "Hey man, can I have that empty?" it became like clock work hordes of bums would circulate through the lot looking to help you offload some of those cumbersome aluminum cans.

As the morning wore on it occurred that we had been remiss in not bringing anything edible. I mean nothing in that van would serve as food. Luckily some guy had set up shop selling fried chicken. Being generally fat and most certainly drunk we ended up purchasing (conservative estimate) a combined 1,200 pieces of chicken. The mountain of bones that accumulated resembled that of the pirate piano ("Play the right note or we'll all b flat") in The Goonies. As is usually the case after we burned through a ton of beers, that bitch mother nature came a'calling. With the only option a port-a-potty a mile away, with a line just as long we had to find something better. We had arrived in a conversion van with instead of a sliding door, 2 doors that opened outwards. And when opened formed something like the dividers in a men's bathroom at the urinals. So we all took our turn filling up a McDonald's cup and dumping it out on the pile of chicken bones we had been piling up on the opposite side of the van.

We hit the game, returned to the van and found the van and found the pile of our urine soaked bones gone. "Maybe some community service kids were picking up trash or something?" this was quickly ruled out as our and everyone else's trash was still billowing throughout the lot. "Uh-oh man, check that out" we all turned in horror to see one bum after another gnawing on the bones we had been dumping our piss on for the better part of 7 hours.

Actually, there were a few good costumes submitted in this batch and some of you definitely get an A for effort. Some others get a G for "Geez, you're not even trying!" We also have a few costumes from actual professional athletes just to prove that famous people can be just as uncreative and boring as the rest of us.

But hey, we can't all be born with a Hollywood makeup crew at our disposal or the body of a video game character now, can we?

After explicitly ignoring our warning, this fellow decided to go ahead and "salute" the scandal of the year. I'm not sure how wise that was, but one thing is certain...
... anytime you have to put the name of your costume on the front so that people know what the heck it is, you know you've really picked a winner.
Also, it attracts the drunk football gals. [Spotted in Madison, WI. Photos by Andrew B.]
Fortunately, after walking around St. Louis in his Matt Holliday costume for five minutes, Scott S. had enough people throwing baseballs at his crotch that he no longer needed the duct tape.
Who does reader Jonathan G. think he is?
Young Will Gerard of Champaign, Illinois, went as Junior Bruce Weber. Sadly, he died of a brain aneurysm after arguing with a 9-year-old referee over a mini-Snickers.
A different Will G. sent us another Kenny P. Well, he does have a way with the ladies.
I'm not even sure Jason D. meant to submit this as a costume ... unless it's "Kid Who Lives His Whole Life Without Ever Rooting For A Winning Baseball Team." Frightening, indeed.
Adam says his "friend brie is a dead nba ref that's what she gets for fixing game." If you say so. A kneecapping would have sufficed.
Janna S. turned herself into a USC Song Girl then turned that into a zombie. That's the sickest costume I've seen yet. For shame!
Lilia B. also went with the zombie cheerleader theme. She claims she's a Texas fan going as a bloody Okie State backer. That's great, but maybe she should use a napkin when eating french fries.
Andy F. is disqualified for submitting a picture from two years ago and labeling it "me as third-string Neckbeard Orton, with Pat Foley." Oh, Andy. Matt Foley was the motivational speaker played by Chris Farley, who also played Todd O'Connor on "Bill Swerski's Superfans." That looks more like Pat Arnold (played by Mike Myers) ... unless that's actual Blackhawks play-by-play announcer Pat Foley under that get up. In that case, bravo.
"A friend of friend" of Jamie B. dressed as Theo Fleury. Gee, and I wonder why childhood sexual abuse isn't a more popular costume?
Alex Q. is the reason we now have instant replay during apple bobbing contests.
That's supposed to be the real Antoine Walker in Miami Beach dressed as "a guy who can't afford a Halloween costume because he gambled away $50 million." Pretty convincing actually. [Photo sent by Javier F.]
What are these Utah Jazz players supposed to be? Oh, I get it! The Clippers! Very scary. [More photos @ SLC Dunk]
Chicago Blackhawks Jonathan Toews and Adam Burish started the weekend as Dumb and Dumber.... [Not Qualified To Comment]
... then their costumes got really stupid. Actually, that's Burish on the left and Patrick Kane as Scottie Pippen. (No, it's not technically blackface, but if you can't see why white people painting their skin black as part of a joke is problematic, then I can't help you.) [Chicago Now]
Reggie Bush and Kim Kardashian ran into their doppelgangers—a slutty cat suit girl and a rejected Muppet. [Friends of the Program; Don't ask me why the faces are painted.]
Yep. Pretty sure that's NOT a costume. [Photo sent by Erinn C. Seen in Ybor City, Tampa]
Finally, the winner of our Sports-O-Ween "contest" is our own FatNakedMoleRat. Anybody who not only recognizes their resemblance to King Hippo, but embraces it, deserves a medal in our book. Bravo, sir.

Today, we have Tim Tebow's comments regarding teammate Brandon Spikes, who on Saturday against Georgia apparently tried to gouge out the eyes of a Bulldogs running back.

Witness: Tim Tebow, via Florida Today's David Jones
Testimony: "Very emotional things happened in that game in particular that were not good for either side, but the bottom line is we're Florida and he's Brandon Spikes and we expect certain things. He understands.''
Pertinent Scripture: Matthew 5:38-39 (from Jesus' Sermon on the Mount)

"You have heard that it was said, 'Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.' But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also."

Please submit any evidence that Tim Tebow is our Redeemer to tips@deadspin.com.

Tebow: Georgia did same things as Spikes [Florida Today]
Tebow Quote of the Day: Re Spikes [TimTeblog]

The unprecedented quality gap in the NFL has been murder on bookmakers — and it doesn't appear to be closing anytime soon. Last week, 10 of 13 favorites covered, with six games decided by at least 28 points. "We've seen disparity before, but never of this magnitude," says Jay Kornegay, director of the Hilton sports book in Las Vegas.

"The gap is widening between the top and bottom teams in the NFL, and it's not a good scenario for sports books. The general public understands that there are six or seven noncompetitive teams in the NFL this year — and many aren't even covering at halftime. So we don't want a knee-jerk reaction, but we do want to be aggressive because history tells us that some of these teams will be somewhat improved, or at least try to be competitive, where they're covering double-digit numbers."

Yet halfway through the season, the NFL's best teams seem to be gaining momentum, not losing it. Two more double-digit favorites — the Colts and Patriots — easily covered last week, to the dismay of bookmakers. "All the exposure this year with the Bradys, the Drew Breeses, the Peyton Mannings is magnifying the problem for us," Kornegay says. "Your typical bettor knows this and they understand how ridiculously bad some of these bottom-rung teams are."

Bookmakers, according to Kornegay, have been more aggressive about adjusting for "noncompetitive teams" — i.e., point spread inflation — but they're nevertheless still struggling to entice underdog bettors.

"Last week, when you're looking at the Rams getting 14 points at home and the Buccaneers getting 15 points on a neutral field, those historically are huge numbers," he says. "Normally, you'd see maybe getting 10 or 11 at home or 12 on a neutral field, but not 15. So the oddsmakers actually made the adjustments, and the sharper money was actually on the underdogs. The sharper money had one of their worst weeks ever because they were taking the value of these inflated lines. The books couldn't overcome all the parlays that accumulated with all the betting patterns that we saw."

Eventually, Kornegay predicts, the league will strike equilibrium. This time last year, double-digit underdogs were 17-1 against the spread. "Historically, the NFL has always been pretty competitive," he says. "This has got to be one of the worst years as far as the parity — or lack of parity — is concerned."

For a brief moment last Sunday, after Miami struck out to an early 24-3 lead against New Orleans, things seemed to be evening out a little. Then Drew Brees mounted an unlikely comeback to win (and cover), and the house's streak of hard luck continued. "The sports books have gotten a lot of bad breaks this year," Kornegay says. "Philadelphia scored 27 points last week against the Redskins, and they were never even in the red zone. That's crazy. How can you score 27 points without being in the red zone? You play the Redskins, I guess."

Handicap Zone

49ers +13 at Colts:
Kornegay: "The 49ers are an average team. So here we are, an average team going to the Colts and getting 13 points. Historically, that doesn't happen. That's something that's been adjusted because of what we've seen over the last few weeks. The Colts are one of the most popular teams. We've bumped the number up pretty aggressively because we anticipate the action coming in on the Colts."

Broncos +3 at Ravens:
Kornegay: "The Broncos have been one of the sports books' best friend because people have been betting against them all year. I anticipate the sharp money coming in on the Ravens, coming in off three losses and the bye week — and this being a much bigger game for them than for the Broncos."

Bad Beats: Readers Share Their Tales Of Woe

Okay, you want bad beats. I'm a long-time bettor, and here are my two worst.

First, (this one tops them all I think), back in the early 90's before Pete Carroll arrives at USC, they are a bad team, and they are +9 points on the road against Arizona State. Feeling that's too many points for ASU to lay, I bet $300 on USC. Fast forward to the 4th quarter. USC is LEADING by 7 with 1:20 to go. At +9, my bet is a lock right?

Well, sit back and enjoy what happens next. USC coach John Robinson decides to back off on his pass rush, go into a prevent defense, and ASU marches down the field and ties the game with 14 seconds to go. What do I care? I've got USC at +9. So, we go to overtime. ASU gets the ball first and immediately scores a touchdown to take a 7 point lead. Now it's USC's turn. After a 6 yard gain on their first play from scrimmage, their QB decides to throw an out pattern to the right side. The ASU defender reads it, steps in front, and returns it for an 81 yard touchdown. ASU wins BY 13 and covers!!! Still hard to believe to this day!!

Here's the second one. I have the Houston Astros with Roy Oswalt on the mound at the Pirates. This is sometime around 2002. $2250 to win $1500 which is a really, really big bet for me. It's the Fox Saturday game of the week, and the Astros are up 8-2 going into the 9th inning. I am counting my money. They bring in some scrub reliever to mop up the game, and he actually gets the first two batters out. Let me repeat: HE GOT THE FIRST TWO BATTERS OUT!!! So, I'm up 8-2 with two outs in the bottom of the 9th, and the Pirates have no runners on base. Pat Meares, the Pirates .182 hitting shortstop then draws a walk, Orlando Merced gets a single, and the next two batters reach as well.

It's now 8-3, and the Astros manager reluctantly strolls to the mound to bring in a new reliever. The new reliever promptly gives up 2 hits and a walk making it 8-5 with two runners on base. Now the Astros manager walks to the mound again, and signals with his left hand. Billy Wagner, who was half-heartedly warming up, never even dreaming he'd be called into the game, is now summoned to the mound and is thrust into a save situation. He promptly walks the first batter to load the bases, and Brian Giles, the pirates clean-up hitter steps up to the plate. He sends Wagner's first pitch over the right field wall to give the Pirates a 9-8 win. Now, I've taken some really bad baseball beats in the past, but that one sticks out in my mind as being the worst. (Mike C.)

My bad beat story is about the first time I made the trip to Atlantic City . I was about a year out of college, working a crap job that didn't pay a whole lot when a good friend of mine asked me if I wanted to go to Atlantic City . Seeing as how I'd never gone, I said yes. In my mind, I had the luck of being a first time gambler and couldn't lose, as it was certainly my destiny to win big and never have to work again.

I took $500 with me, which is a nice chunk of change, but was definitely A LOT more money to me in 2003 than it is now. We got to AC at around 9 pm on a Saturday, and I proceed to the Blackjack tables, because Blackjack was supposed to be easy to win money playing. By 10 pm, I had no money left. I thought for sure I could get it back, so I went to the ATM and pulled out another $500. Between 10 pm and 11:30 pm, I proceeded to lose the second $500, bringing my losses to $1000. Being the first time I had played Blackjack, at this point I had just started to figure out "my system" to beat the casino and win my money back. My bank at the time allowed me to withdraw $500 every midnight to midnight time period, so I went back to the ATM. At precisely 12:01, I withdrew another $500, and went back to the tables to win my rent, car payment, insurance payment, student loan payment, and credit card payment back. My checking account balance after this withdrawal stood at exactly $38.92, but I knew I would be able to recoup my losses and get most if not all or more of my money back. I don't think I have to tell you what happens next, but I played up and down (mostly down) for about 2 hours, and when I realized I only had $50 of the $1500 total withdrawal left, I stopped playing, and went to go find my friend, who proudly showed me the $1800 he had won playing poker over the last 5 hours while I lost damn near every penny I had.

At that point, I did what any self respecting young man who had just lost his ass would do: I spent my last $50 at the strip club. When I told my friend I was out of money and he would have to pay for gas, tolls, food, etc on the way home, he was kind about it. He even bought me a lap dance.

That loss crippled me financially for months, and it took me a long time to feel comfortable back in AC, or Vegas. Now when I go to gamble, I always tell that story to whomever I'm gambling with, and have them hold onto my wallet after I've taken out the money I know I can lose without setting me back. (Rob)

I got an unconventional story for Bad Beats as it involves me winning some money. But it also involves me cursing my favorite team, so that has to count for something right?

My story starts on a lovely day. June 18, 2006 to be exact. I was a fresh-faced 22 year old, and it was my first time in Vegas. The trip had been planned for months. The main purpose of the trip was so we could bet on like four World Cup games a day. But most remember that June for the Mavs-Heat NBA Finals. Now, I have a huge boner for the Mavs. And as luck would have it, the end of the finals was going to coincide with the start of my trip.

We arrive on the morning of Game 5. This game is pivotal as the Heat has tied the series and the Mavs really need to take this one on in Miami. Now, I should point out that I have a general rule to not bet on teams that I root for. I am to heavily involved to think rationally so I usually steer clear. But I'm in VEGAS. FOR THE FIRST TIME. What better way to bust that cherry than to make my first bet on my favorite team. I mean, they were clearly better than the Heat, so how could they lose, right. Right?

So I go to a few books and place a couple of bets. At one I take the Mavs +2, then at another I parlay the Mavs +3 and the over. I'm looking to make $200 on $50. I'm excited as hell. But I have this feeling that I have just done something disastrous. So, it's game time and we head over to Ceasar's to watch the game. It starts off well for the Mavs and by halftime they are up 51-43. So I decide to get frisky. I go put $30 on the 2nd half over. So, to recap I got $80 down to win about $300. That was a lot for a sheltered Southern Baptist kid who was used to putting 5 bucks in the squares pool at work. The rest is history. The Heat go on a run. But Dirk comes up money. Then D-Wade (FUCK YOU!!!) gets bailed out by the worst phantom call in Finals history and the Heat (or Bennett's Kids as I like to call them) steal a 101-100 victory. But my misery only grows. I look down, and I have won ALL of my bets. I have $300 in tainted money. I broke my rule and now the Mavs have lost three straight. I have cursed my team and now hold cursed money.

Two days later, I watched the end of the epic collapse from the bottom of my 12th Jack & Coke. I vomited on the way back to the room. And I didn't win one bet the rest of the trip...and 6 days later I went home and cried. (Jeff A.)

Share your bad beat with the world. E-mail us at tips@deadspin.com. Subject: Bad beats.

Religious Prop Bet Of The Week: Thetan Edition

Via Paddy Power:

"First celebrity to leave the Church of Scientology"

John Travolta 9/4
Katie Holmes 3/1
Lisa Marie Presley 4/1
Jason Lee 6/1
Priscilla Presley 8/1
Chaka Khan 10/1
Nancy Cartwright 12/1
Brandy 14/1
Beck 18/1
Kirstie Alley 25/1
Tom Cruise 50/1

For this, the season's final installment of our stadium series, I asked a wide range of writers, critics, community activists, urban planners and fans to explain all that's loathsome about Versailles-on-the-Harlem River.

Neil deMause, Field of Schemes co-author and blogger:

The 1970s-renovated Yankee Stadium Mark II bore all the hallmarks of that decade's architecture — bland poured concrete, ugly escalator ramps tacked onto the exterior — but they were at least still slathered over the original skeleton of the House That Ruth Built, its tight upper-deck overhang and sweeping grandstand making it far more intimate than any stadium seating 57,000 had a right to be. By comparison, the new building bearing the Yankee Stadium name has taken all the worst aspects of the 1970s stadium and discarded anything worthwhile. Enough sloppily painted concrete and crappy aluminum panels to fill a dozen commuter rail stations? Check. Field-level seats that require a credit check, and upper-deck seats where the game is only a rumor? Check. The eradication of any genuine baseball flavor in favor of the kind of faux-history that usually is restricted to Las Vegas tourist traps? Check. A hideous restaurant in the batter's eye that simultaneously blocks the view of the field from the bleachers while submerging the markers to Yankees greats in a dark hole dubbed "Monument Cave"? You got it. If you're going to spend $1.2 billion in public money and leave local kids with no public parks to play in for five years, you'd hope you'd at least get a nice place to watch a ballgame out of the deal. Instead, the designers of Fake Yankee Stadium effectively turned their back on any populist tradition of the Bronx Zoo days and instead institutionalized the team's most grandiose, corporate traditions: They might as well have inscribed "Where It's Like Rooting For U.S. Steel" over the entrances.

John Pastier, architecture critic:

I used to play football on the grounds of today's Yankee Stadium more than 50 years ago, and now, as an enfeebled and doddering old geezer, I just don't have the wit or energy to kvetch about the monumental and hyperactive commercialism that saturates every nook and cranny of its interior, its outrageously inflated ticket prices, its officious bag-checkers ("We're the number two terrorist target" — oh, if only it were so!), its whopping Giuliani-concocted public subsidies, both visible and concealed, the inadequate bathrooms in its Hard Rock Cafe, its dimensionally-challenged right field porch (even shorter than the old joint's), its confiscation of public parkland, the pretentious banality embodied in its mausoleum-like limestone exterior, and the inexcusable lack of any historic plaque commemorating my athletic presence on the site well before Roger Maris even thought of setting foot in the Bronx.

And to think that George Carlin, Martin Scorsese, and I went to high school just six blocks away. Had George lived long enough to witness this outrageous intrusion into his old neighborhood, he would have been able to do full justice to this travesty. Now my last hope is that Scorsese will someday be moved to make a movie revealing how this all came to be. It'd be a film noir.

Martin Pedersen, executive editor, Metropolis Magazine:

Why Does Yankee Stadium Suck? Let me count the ways:

1) IT WAS THE PRODUCT OF A THOROUGHLY UNDEMOCRATIC POLITICAL PROCESS. The Yankees had spent the better part of three decades ignoring, criticizing or exploiting the South Bronx. Now in exchange for a new stadium, they get the promise (and remember here, the Yankees made and broke a lot of promises to the neighborhood, following the botched 1970s renovation of the original stadium) of a new park, located...on top of a parking garage (thank you very much). In the meantime, a woefully underserved neighborhood goes without a park for who knows how long?

2) IT'S DESIGN IS PROFOUNDLY UN-AMERICAN. Baseball has traditionally played a unifying role. The ballpark is where people of different classes and races and religions actually mingled. The box seats, where the swells sat, weren't physically separated from the proles. The new stadium is like an architectural system of class apartheid, with far fewer cheap seats pushed way up to the heavens (closer to God, at least) and many of the bleacher seats (home to the most loyal and ardent fans) with obstructed views. There is actually a concrete and plexiglass moat separating the I-bankers paying two or three thousand dollars a pop from the mere middle-management types paying, oh, three hundred dollars seat. (It's interesting: After the first playoff game against the Twins, Michael Kay and David Cone were speculating about the subdued nature of the crowd. Was it the 6 o'clock start? The early lead by the Twins? "Excuse me, guys," I shouted at the TV, "it's the fucking architecture!")

3) IN A BUILDING THAT'S ALMOST TWICE AS BIG, THERE ARE ABOUT 5000 FEWER SEATS. This is baseball stadium-as-mall.

3) THE NEW YANKEE STADIUM IS NOT A PRIVATELY FINANCED. We paid for a large portion of this stadium. Why Bloomberg, who had no stake in seeing the Yankees get a new home, went along with it is a mystery to me. It's simply unconscionable for a city, with children attending classes in janitor's closets, to spend money on for-profit sports franchises.

4) THE ORIGINAL STADIUM, AN AUTHENTIC PIECE OF AMERICAN HISTORY, COULD HAVE BEEN RESTORED. The truth is, it badly needed it. It wasn't build for 4 million fans a year, but that's why you hire architects and designers. To examine the problem and propose solutions. Why was Fenway Park, which is far smaller than the original Yankee Stadium, renovated and not "The Cathedral of Baseball"? (By the way, this is how the Yankees referred to the old stadium during its final year.) The original stadium, even deftly re-configured, wouldn't include as many luxury boxes and theme restaurants as the new stadium. It also would have forced the Yankees to share a stadium with the Mets for two seasons, thereby forgoing the opportunity to milk the original stadium's Final Season for all its worth. It was simply far easier and more profitable to take a neighborhood park and start fresh.

5) WHY DEMOLISH A CATHEDRAL?

David Gratt, former season ticket holder (sec 37 Row C seat 1) and former director, Friends of Yankee Stadium:

Because the $400,000,000 direct public investment is the equivalent of 8,000 teachers or cops or firemen at $50,000 per year.

Because the remaining $800,000,000 of the city's bonding authority was supposed to go to build things that we actually need, like the Second Avenue Subway, improved parks, or new or improved schools, police stations, firehouses or hospitals.

Because it would have only taken about $40,000,000 to fix up Macombs Dam Park, the Park that "new Yankee Stadium" sits on top of, while it will cost $120,000,000 to demolish Yankee Stadium and build replacement parks.

Because one of the rationales for the "new Yankee Stadium" was the Macombs Dam Park was too heavily used and needed to be replaced…indicating that success equals obsolescence.

Because attendance will never be higher than in 2005, 2006, 2007 and 2008, again indicating that success equals obsolescence.

Because all of the potential move locations (New Jersey, Midtown, Yonkers) were off the table so the Yankees had no place to go…except Yankee Stadium.

Because the city had the Yankees over a barrel, and instead of dictating the terms, the city just gave the Yankees everything they wanted.

Because the city and the Yankees made all of the important decisions without public input; all that was left for the public to weigh in on was the terms of surrender. The public input process in NYC is a sham.

Because the city was paying the Yankees to develop a new stadium proposal …so when city officials met with Yankee officials about the proposal, both sides of the table were being paid out of the same pot of money.

Because the economic analysis rationalizing the project was primarily predicated on enormous increases in ticket prices…which were also possible at Yankee Stadium.

Because the same economic analysis double counted some job creation figures and revenue estimates creating to misleadingly sunny figures.

Because any new stadium has the same economic impact as a department store.

Because no one who actually studies these things believes that a stadium is a good municipal investment; there are just really bad deals and much, much worse deals.

Because, despite all the evidence against stadia as municipal investments, NYC politicians pushed through, not one, but two.

Because increasing the amount of Yankee operated concession space eight-fold, while good for the Yankees, is bad for the neighborhood.

Because the new stadium cuts down on seats but increases parking spaces.

Because city traffic and transportation engineers claimed that additional parking spaces would actually improve the traffic situation, a statement which is just wrong.

Because Reggie Jackson embarrassingly prostituted himself at a City Council hearing. So much for that alleged 160 IQ.

Because, while the Yankees did a great job of demonstrating why they wanted a new stadium, they never actually got around to demonstrating why they needed one.

Because city officials claimed that the Yankees needed a new stadium because the "cramped conditions" were impacting the Yankees' business operations; as if that is a concern of the city.

Because the same city officials claimed that it was impractical to have the Yankees play at Shea during a renovation process because Coke was a Yankees sponsor and Pepsi was a Mets sponsor.

Because the city never bothered to determine a cost estimate for a full renovation of its own asset.

Because a renovation might have cost $250,000,000 and kept Yankee Stadium current for the next 85 years.

Because the outside looks like a mausoleum…a mausoleum for baseball.

Because the inside looks like the Ballpark at Arlington. Way to go, HOK. Once other ballparks were modeled on Yankee Stadium. "New Yankee Stadium" is modeled after the AL West.

Because no one will ever care whether anyone hits a home run out of the "new Yankee Stadium"

Because Thurman Munson never played there.

Because it's not Yankee Stadium.

Lukas Herbert, urban planner and former member of New York City's Community Board 4:

Yankee Stadium sucks because it epitomizes everything that sucks about corporate America today, all rolled into one stadium.

The Yankees, probably the biggest corporate bastards of all baseball teams, started out by receiving a huge amount of corporate welfare from the City and State governments. Just like Wal-Mart plays off one town against another as a way to exact taxpayer dollars to improve their bottom line, the Yankees unbelievably told the City that they would "move somewhere else" if their demands for free land, free infrastructure and direct construction subsidies were not met. While few New Yorkers actually believed such a threat, Mayor Bloomberg had no problem using it as cover to shower the Yankees with financial gifts. So instead of using the money to fix crumbling schools, repair a subway system that's practically held together with duct-tape or keep firehouses and libraries open, the money went to build one of the fanciest stadiums in human history. Take from the poor and give to the rich!

Then of course, the taxpayers who helped to fund the stadium can barely afford to buy a ticket. Just like those corporate fat-cats who took government bail out money to reward themselves with high salaries, why should the Yankees do anything differently? If the taxpayers are helping to build this stadium, why not just use the money to provide more luxury seats for the rich? Or subsidize the outsized paychecks of the players? Clearly intended for the pre-bust era, the only irony of this situation was that nobody had any money to buy these fancy seats after the stadium got constructed, leaving the lower bowl noticeably empty for so many of this season's games.

Green buildings? What's that? The Yankees were apparently asleep for the last couple of years when it suddenly became un-cool to waste natural resources like oil and electricity. The lights that light up the stadium's field are often on 24-hours a day. The lights on the roof of the VIP parking garage were apparently installed with no off-switch (as a way to save money?) and have been on morning, noon and night since the stadium opened. Having suddenly realized that they were now driving the "Hummer" of stadiums in a world that was now desiring Priuses, the Yankees made a truly lame attempt to "greenwash" their stadium through token efforts like using hand sanitizer in bathrooms, instead of soap, to save water. Or biodegradable cups for soda. (You mean, like paper cups?) Tons of new buildings are being built in NYC with true "green" building amenities, but the Yankees never even gave it a thought. Now this lame "greenwash" public relations effort will probably only dupe the stupidest of people.

But perhaps the worst offense of the new Yankee Stadium is what you no longer see: 16 acres of parkland that were taken away from one of the poorest communities in the country. Playing the subsidy game, the Yankees asked for free land –- a community park -– to build their new stadium. Since poor people, minorities and immigrants don't count for much in Michael Bloomberg's New York, why not just give the park over to the Yankees? Sure, the parks will be replaced (at City taxpayer expense), but that will only happen after the needs of the Yankees are met and the old stadium is demolished. (Which is taking way longer than anybody thought it would.) Just like a greedy oil company that goes into a poor country and screws everyone over in the name of "economic development", the Yankees have employed the same model in this community, promising economic benefits while damaging people's lives. Asthma and childhood obesity are issues that plague the inner cities. They way to solve these problems is through more active open space and more trees. The Yankees chopped down 300 mature trees and took away 16 acres of parkland for the next several years to have their stadium. Public health ills be damned! Just like life expectancy is shortened when a greedy corporation opens a pollution-spewing factory in an area with few economic resources, so has this been the situation with this greedy corporation (the Yankees) in the South Bronx chopping down our trees and taking away our open space. People now have crappier lives and worse health because of this stadium.

There are some people in this world who make consumer choices based on their moral beliefs. Maybe they don't wear fur, or eat meat, or buy food shipped in from China, or drive gas guzzlers, or buy from companies that support oppression around the world. So if you are already making these choices with your wallet, why should major league baseball be exempt from your scrutiny? The Yankees have shown themselves to be an evil corporation willing to take massive taxpayer subsidies and waste them on an energy-inefficient stadium priced only for the rich, all while screwing over a poor community and stealing what little they had in terms of trees and open space. Just because they are a baseball team, does that make them any less responsible?

Joyce Hogi, Bronx resident and 2nd vice president of the Bronx Council of Environmental Quality:

I think Yankee Stadium sucks because it was built on valuable parkland that was taken away from the community and they haven't been fully replaced. It will be at least another 2 years; possibly longer, until that happens. I think the stadium sucks because the attention paid to the construction of the bleacher areas is an insult to those fans that cannot afford the pricey seats. It sucks because the stadium's lights are on 24/7 and those residents who live a mere 100 ft across the street can get no relief from them. It sucks because the police become super aggressive toward the community during games by blocking streets, putting up barricades to direct fans from the garages and train stations right into the stadium so there is little or no pedestrian traffic to the local businesses.

Killian Jordan, Yankees fan and Bronx resident:

Yankee Stadium is hateful because it's a monolith, more than a building — huge and looming. Imposing, but far from beautiful. It has turned a neighborhood of parks into a neighborhood of parking garages. It charges more for beer than a Dubai country club. While the team has some personality, management has only an overheated ego and absolute contempt for its surroundings. Like any royal with a proud history of droit de seigneur, it just fucks everything it touches.

The view from the stands (everything sic'd):

Yankee stadium sucks because they had to spend 1.5 BILLION dollars to make it look like an older one they fucked up in the ‘70s.

Yankee stadium sucks because it's in the armpit of the Bronx – why do you think they show pictures of manhattan when they show "outside shots of the city" on tv. Where is the shot of "Ball Park Sports Bar & Grill" under the tracks?!

Yankee stadium sucks because even during a rain delay you can't move down beyond the "moat" – they have armed guards keeping you and the black knight at bay even in monsoons.

Yankee stadium sucks because beers are $9 at the cheapest, and after the 3rd inning, you actually start to believe you are getting a good deal.

Yankees stadium sucks because the morons who built the pathways to monument park didn't account for proper head height, so there is an triangular cut in the concrete as you pass underneath an angled beam – this is the what the millions and billions went towards? Getting Ortiz's jersey out of the foundations and correcting stupid mistakes.

Yankees stadium sucks because the towel dispensers in the bathroom are 2 inches above the sinks. I dare you to try to finish using a towel dispenser and try to be dryer than when you first stepped up to it.

Yankee stadium sucks because of the legends suites. Douchebag McTools from around the Tri-State area show up at these "exclusive" restaurants and bars and seats just to express their douche-iness.

Yankee stadium is awesome because when it's time to dance the camera men do a great job of showing hot and/or skanky women rocking out seemingly to themselves until it is too late. (John B.)

I was able to score 4 tickets to the first exhibition game at the new yankee stadium. with little interest in the game, we took a tour of the concourse, where we happened upon an art gallery. at a baseball stadium. I couldn't believe my eyes. However, it got worse. As I entered the gallery, I saw a guy take a painting off the wall and take it to the register. After placing the art piece on the counter, he asks if he can keep the price tag that was still hanging on the wall. The lady agrees, but before he grabs it I see the price: $3,000. (Pedraic)

I went to a Yankees-Angels game in May with my father, father-in-law, and brother. A foul ball came towards us and my klutzy brother, who was sitting on the aisle, got up, turned around to try and catch it, and tripped over the step, falling into the person sitting across from him us in section 112. This man, who was at the game with his wife and three daughters (who looked to be about ages 5-10), violently shoved my brother back and threatened that if he touched him again, he would punch my brother in the face. My brother is fifteen years old. I explained to this lout that it was an accident and his response was that he was pushed into his kids and he was going to protect them (ostensibly by punching my brother in the face). I told him my brother was a kid too and that there wasn't going to be any punching of anyone. I think it failed to dawn on this person that maybe it would do more good for his children if he were a good role model rather than threatening to punch another child in the face at a baseball game.

Anyway, it's people like this (not to mention the ones who yell awful, racist stuff when the Red Sox are in town) that make me somewhat embarrassed to classify myself along with them as Yankee fans.

Also, attached is a pic I took of Father of the Year.

(Michael S.)

I was up there for the Phils - Yanks series on Memorial Day weekend. How is that Phillies fans are there in equal numbers to Yankees fans? What a complete joke, how many people live in New York, 15 million and you can't fill a baseball stadium with your own fans. Pathetic. Riding the subway up there was hilarious, the whole subway car was chanting let's go Phillies the entire time.

So we start off the afternoon by heading over to Stan's to stock up on beers that don't cost us 10 dollars (we remembered after arriving at said bar that in NYC everything costs double what it should). Highlight of Stan's was one of my buddies puking all over a middle aged lady and two of are other friend's pants. We arrive in the stadium to find out that like most other Phils fans who never been there before it takes 20 minutes to reach your seats in the upper deck. After riding on an endless parade of escalators we reach our seats. Now had I never been to the old stadium I would have thought that the view wasn't that bad. But as anyone who had been to the old stadium can tell you, the new place cannot even compare. You are twice as far from the field and the ticket is more money. Awesome. Now I'm spoiled after going from the Vet to CBP but shouldn't a brand new stadium result in a better product for the customer? Well, I'm sure the BOA suite is an upgrade on the old one. The other obvious thing about that place is the center field eyesore. Who puts something that looks like a 1980's haunted house in the center field seats of a major league ballpark? That, and the fact that Steinbrenner decided to put ads all over the place. Its like watching a game being played on a giant billboard. I understand a few ads here and there but that is out of control. I guess you have to pay for that team somehow. Anyway, the old Yankee Stadium was amazing, the new place sucks. (Bob E.)

I learned this year that the new Stadium isn't immune to the...enthusiastic nature of Bombers fans. In the middle of an otherwise unmemorable and totally meaningless September loss to Baltimore, Edwar Ramirez came in and promptly gave up 3 or 4 runs (as is his nature.) The guy sitting in front of me was not amused. I believe the exact quote he screamed was "GOD DAMNIT! I'VE HAD IT WITH THIS BUGS BUNNY MOTHERFUCK! THIS TIME I'M GOING TO KILL HIM, I SWEAR TO GOD! HE'S FINISHED!" He then proceeded to storm out of his seat, presumably to go from the second to last row of the stadium down to the dugout to kill Edwar Ramirez.

What's crazier than that? I had seen almost the exact same scene play out 2 years earlier, only Kyle Farnsworth was the one in mortal danger.

Go Yankees. (Henry D.)

Every year my family and a few close friends do a big group trip to see a game in a different MLB ballpark. This year, we decided to go see a game in the new Yankee Stadium. Now, I used to live in NY and CT so I've learned to really hate the Yankees, but I am a baseball fan so I was looking forward to seeing Monument Park. The Yankees' website advises us that it's open until 45 minutes before game time. We arrive about an hour and a half before game time and find a line longer than my...well, it's long. Whatever, we decide to wait in the retardedly long line...only to have two security guards who couldn't give a shit about their job tell us that the line was cut off at the person right in front of us. Never mind that some of us had flown cross-country, or that it's still open for 45 minutes, they assure us there is no fucking way we are getting in. Three of us say fuck that and go watch BP. The rest of our group decided to take their chances at the end of the line. 45 minutes later, the rest of my family catches up with us. They wouldn't let them in. Fucking dicks.

So while we're watching BP, Phil Coke is shagging balls in the outfield, and he throws one up into the first few rows. The first few rows are nice, individual seats, which are separated from the bleachers and the fans who just wandered down for BP by a big concrete wall. One of the fans in the bleachers, who is proudly sporting a "Bleacher Creatures" shirt, yells down to Coke, "Hey Phil! How 'bout one for the REAL fans?" The bougie fans in the first few rows did not take kindly to that remark and turned around to advise the Bleacher Creature to shut the fuck up. Nice caste system the Yankees are creating with their fans. To Phil Coke's credit, he did throw the guy a ball.

Also, Yankee Stadium, in all of its corporate branding glory, features the most pathetic beer stand ever:

(Alex)

Thanks for all your contributions, and please start racking your brains for nasty things to say about Tropicana Field, Chase Field, Minute Maid Park, Rogers Centre, Great American Ball Park, Progressive Field, Coors Field, Comerica Park, Land Shark Stadium and PNC Park. Send them to craggs@deadspin.com.

A man has to have goals — for a day, for a lifetime — and that was this man's: to have people say, "There goes frozen, decapitated Ted Williams, the greatest Halloween costume that ever lived." We tip our caps.

Barry Petchesky, by way of the good folks at Herm's Perm, brought you the strange saga of Chase Mejia, a well-traveled Division I wide receiver who somehow found himself at a Miami porn shoot, serving as the western pillar in a fleshy Eiffel Tower — split left, you might say, and running a hard post over the middle.

Many people were none too pleased with our horndog bird-dogging. Brian Cook of MGoBlog led the charge. "Fuck you," he wrote to AJ. "You're a piece of shit." On his own blog, he wrote: "AJ Daulerio Is An Asshole." And elsewhere, he declared the ESPN Horndog Dossier "literally the worst thing the blogosphere has ever done." Sports bloggers literally across the country literally took to the streets and set themselves on fire, literally.

Soon after it emerged that Steve Phillips had carried on a bunny-boilingly ill-advised affair with production assistant, ESPN cut the guy loose. "His ability to be an effective representative for ESPN has been significantly and irreparably damaged," ESPN factotum Josh Krulewitz said, "and it became evident it was time to part ways."

The New York Post broke the story of Steve Phillips' affair with 22-year-old Brooke Hundley. Dash brought you all the sordid details, and, meanwhile, at Deadspin HQ ...

... AJ dusted off the ESPN Horndog file.

"I've never had sex w/ anyone at ESPN....," an ESPN employee wrote in an e-mail to AJ. "But, uh, I just got to Bristol and between me and you, you've to got a lot of people sleeping with a rosary tonight." A rosary, and possibly a 20-year-old production assistant.

Meet Katie Lacey, ESPN horndog.

We got our hands on a copy of Tim Donaghy's book, Blowing the Whistle, which was all set to be published by Random House until the NBA stepped in. That's a nice publishing house you have there. Wouldn't want anything to happen to it.

Meet Erik Kuselias, ESPN horndog, skeeve.

Yesterday, I noted that Halloween falls on a Saturday this year, and I recklessly declared Saturday the drunkenest day of the week. Ah, but is that always necessarily true? Let's start this exercise by stating flatly that the best day of the week to get drunk is, of course, ALL OF THEM. There's no wrong night to get drunk! That's the beauty of alcoholism! But, for shits and giggles, let's rank the nights of the week for drinking purposes anyway.

I don't drink quite as much as I used to. Marriage and kids will do that for you. It's not that getting married and having kids reduces your desire to drink. Far from it. You parents out there know the exact opposite to be true. BUT… I'm fucking exhausted by 9:00PM every night. Even if I'm drinking, I'm not drinking anywhere near the same amount as I was when I was young and carefree and staying out until 4AM trying to pick up stray pussy. Those are long stretches of drinking I'm too tired to try and match anymore.

But I have plenty of experience drinking and going out on every night of the week. And from all those years of punishing my liver, I offer this hierarchy:

1. THURSDAY NIGHT

Why drink on Thursday Night? Because it's almost the fucking weekend. Hell, it IS the weekend. You're only going to work on Friday for posterity. You're not going to actually do anything once you get there apart from wear sunglasses and pray for grim death. Thursday night is also the best night for TV, which allows for excellent pregame drinking before you go out at 10 or 11. Everyone is fucking jazzed to be out on a Thursday night, getting a head start on their drinking. They're fresh. They're excited. They're ready to fucking destroy themselves. I remember living in New York and having a good number of friends stay in on a Saturday Night because they were so thoroughly ruined from drinking on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday nights.

2. SATURDAY NIGHT

Why drink on Saturday Night? Because it's in the Bible. Drinking on Saturday night is also a natural continuance from all the drinking you do during the day on Saturday. No reason to let up. YOU'VE GOT PETTY FISTFIGHTS TO START.

Also, Saturday is by far the best night to do drugs. (NOTE: Daulerio vehemently disagrees with this. And likely knows better.)

3. FRIDAY NIGHT

Why drink on Friday Night? Work is done for the week. Sure, you already unofficially started your weekend the night before. But still, those first ten Dark Horses taste pretty good when you know you don't have to half-ass it at work the next day.

4. WEDNESDAY NIGHT

Why drink on Wednesday Night? Because the week is half over. So fuck it. Why not down a bottle of Popov and make it all the way the fuck over?

5. MONDAY NIGHT

Why drink on Monday Night? There's both football AND wrestling on. Plus, if you spent Sunday recovering from all the horrible things you did on WED-SAT nights, you should feel relatively functional again by Monday. No reason to stay that way. Besides, it's Monday. It blows. You just need to take the edge off. WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL? DON'T FUCKING LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! I'M A GROWN MAN AND I HAVE THE POWER TO STOP.

6. SUNDAY NIGHT

Why drink on Sunday Night? Because it's a good night to just mellow the fuck out with a bottle of wine. No need to go out and shit faced. Let's just take it easy and finish a case of Two Buck Chuck here? It barely counts as drinking.

7. TUESDAY NIGHT

Why drink on Tuesday Night? Because no one sees it coming. And frankly, you may as well. Thursday is only TWO days away.

A few weeks ago I was asked to comment on Carson Palmer's remark that, sooner or later, someone was going to die on a football field. I repeated then what I have figured out over many years of reading and writing about football: that the threat of serious injury has always been fundamental to football's appeal. It makes the players' risks and thus their courage real, their athletic skills immensely more impressive. Each season sees football fatalities, but rarely in the NFL and never on the field due to a blow. The last person to die in an NFL game was Detroit's Chuck Hughes in 1971, but from a heart attack, not a violent collision — coincidentally four days before my Kansas City Chiefs played the Lions on Thanksgiving Day. I still remember the eerie feeling, as I trotted onto the field, knowing that someone had died there just a few days earlier.

Though rare, sudden violent death has always been a possibility in football. Research is now suggesting that the accumulation of little hits can be as dangerous as big ones, with death coming in slow-motion, after years of dementia, rather than suddenly. And everyone who played may be at risk, not just the extreme cases whose grisly stories make for sensational reading.

The occasional tale of a Mike Webster or John Mackey has always grabbed me, but it has also always seemed an extreme case. The recent deluge of reports on the research on the brains of former NFL players feels altogether different. Malcolm Gladwell's comparison of football to dogfighting in The New Yorker didn't jolt me — that bit of melodrama was for rhetorical effect. The grisly accounts of the final days and later autopsies on Webster, Terry Long, Justin Strzelczyk, and more than a dozen others were more jolting, their cumulative effect overwhelming. Chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), of which I'd never heard until a few weeks ago, suddenly seemed the NFL's version of the Black Death.

But what has really jolted me is the less sensational, more mundane research by Kevin Guskiewicz of the University of North Carolina's sports concussion research program. For those who haven't yet read about it, Guskiewicz and his team fitted sensors in the helmets of UNC players through which they could measure the impact (or g-force) of every blow to the head. The magnitude ranges from small to more than 100 g's, the equivalent of a head hitting a windshield in a 25 mph collision (without a seatbelt). Even in practices without full pads players received blows with g-forces in the 50s, 60s, 70s, and 80s. A typical lineman suffered 31 blows during one day of training camp (I'm guessing that that meant two practices). A similar study at the University of Oklahoma determined that linemen experience blows of 20-30 g's on every routine play. And they add up: one neurologist reports that Mike Webster, the first of the former players to be diagnosed with CTE, "endured probably 25,000 violent collisions during his career."

I've been reading these reports less as someone who has been writing about football for many years than as someone, 61 years old, who played a lot of football a long time ago. And as the father of a son who has played more recently. The research on the later consequences of early head trauma raises the possibility that my son and I, too, might have tiny bombs planted in our brains with fuses of indeterminate length.

That's overly melodramatic, too, and I have not been brooding over my future and my son's ever since I encountered Guskiewicz's research. But I have been thinking about things that I thought I knew but now know in new ways.

As I've suggested, I don't believe that I am seriously at risk. I sometimes find myself walking downstairs, only to discover that I've forgotten why I was going, but so do my friends who never played football. We laugh about these "brain farts" as we laugh about our prostate exams and sigmoidoscopies, the routine indignities of getting old. Not the early signs of dementia. But reading about the new research has me sorting through my football memories like a lapsed Catholic returning to the confessional after 40 years. Let's see, I was never a starter in the NFL, only a backup center and special teams player, and I didn't play like a wild man on the "suicide squad." (I was attending grad school at Stanford in the offseasons, after all, not hanging on in the NFL until they had to carry me off the field.) I cannot recall a single diagnosed concussion, but I vividly remember a forearm to my head from Atlanta's Tommy Nobis on a kickoff ... and my head-rattling tackle of a Bronco kick returner on another one ... and, oh yeah, the Bengals' Mike Reid really rang my bell in a practice before the College All-Star Game in 1970 ...

I also have to remember that little hits add up, too, and the brain doesn't discriminate between hits in practice and hits in games. Mike Webster suffered 25,000 hits? My total would be a whole lot smaller. But if I figure 10 games and 30 full-contact practices for each of four college seasons, 20 games and 40 contract practices for each of five seasons as a pro, plus 20 days each spring in college and 20 days in training camp for all nine seasons, that's a conservative estimate of 700 days of contact. Add another 60 days for each of four seasons in high school, and the total comes to about 840 days of contact football. How many hits each day? If I estimate, very conservatively, even 10, the total would be 8,400 (of varying g-force). Not 25,000 but still a lot.

I'm guessing that a lot of former NFL players are running similar calculations these days. Based on how I feel today, I think I'm okay, maybe in part because I have a long neck, wholly unsuitable for an offensive lineman, that perhaps ironically protected my brain. I suffered a pinched nerve in the spring game my junior year at Notre Dame, and for the next six seasons I had to be careful not to use my head recklessly to avoid recurrences. I experienced maybe a dozen "stingers" every week anyway, but now I wonder if those meant the force of the blow was being conducted to my cervical spine, rather than to my cranium.

My physical legacy from 18 years of tackle football is a messed-up spine: disk protrusion, spinal stenosis, degenerative disc and facet disease, etc., in both the cervical and lumbar regions. I have extended bouts of sciatic-nerve pain on my right side and femoral-nerve pain on my left, and pain and numbness from neck down my right shoulder and arm. Surgery is in my future, but for now I'm managing my issues with lots of stretching, exercise and staying fit. If my inconveniently long neck was indeed a shock absorber for blows to my head, I count myself lucky. I'll take my spine over a damaged brain any day.

Linemen of my generation were smaller, 255 to 280 pounds or so, not 300 to 340 (I played center at 242, medium size for a quarterback today). When the rules for pass-blocking changed in 1978, allowing offensive linemen to extend their arms and open their hands, linemen began growing larger, as sheer bulk and upper-body strength became assets. Linemen of my generation blocked more with our heads, but linemen of the following generations have been bigger and stronger, their collisions more violent. I wonder if younger NFL retirees will prove to be more afflicted with CTE than players of my generation.

As a father, rather than a former player, the research suggesting that football can do long-term damage to even high school players is particularly chilling. My younger son, who played football, proved to be susceptible to concussions, getting more or less one per season from about the sixth grade through high school. Lots of parents know the routine: I would awaken him every few hours through the night to ask him his address and phone number, then let him fall back asleep after he delivered the correct answer. Fortunately, he never played for a coach who tried to get him back onto the field before our doctor had cleared him. His mother and I are not obsessing about the possibilities of long-term effects, but given parents' unlimited capacity to worry about our children, that would change the moment he started complaining about headaches.

For now, I'm grateful that I did not face a decision whether to tell my son that he could no longer play football after receiving, say, his second concussion. I know from my own youthful experience and from watching my son and his teammates, as well as from my reading, that football can provide self-validation for boys and adolescents. Whether the needs it serves are biological or social and cultural, football's power derives at least in part from the fact that it is "rough." I've long thought that younger brothers (like both my son and me) were particularly drawn to football as kids; and I've seen in my own community that some of the smallest boys in their classes are among those who switch from soccer to football in the fifth grade, when football starts. Through high school, football can be a useful puberty- and testosterone-management tool.

My son is now 25; the issue is no longer our family matter. (And I don't even want to think about the circumstances that would make me wish I had known when he was in the sixth or seventh grade what we are now learning about concussions.) What do today's younger parents with sons who want to play football do with the knowledge that numerous small blows can have dangerous cumulative effects? If I can presume for a moment to speak for conscientious parents in general, we know that we cannot protect our kids from every possible danger, nor do we want to keep them from all risk-taking or prevent them from becoming self-sufficient. But we do want to protect them from foolish, unnecessary and excessive risks. Will it one day make as much sense to keep your son away from football as it does to strap your toddler into a car seat? For now, the degree and magnitude of the risks from youth football are still uncertain. But the more we learn from researchers, the riskier it seems.

I have no reason to be angry. I have no reason to feel betrayed. I'm not inclined in general to play "what if" with my past, or to brood on what's happened as if I could still change it. In any case, I have no symptoms of cognitive impairment. I'm not inclined to headaches, and my memory lapses seem normal for my age. Because I played too few years to qualify for an NFL pension, I have no history in retirement with the NFL or the NFLPA, let alone a history of denied benefits to which I feel entitled.

But I feel enormous sadness for teammates and other former NFL players who are not as fortunate as I still appear to be. And the future of football seems uncertain right now. The Congressional hearing on brain damage to NFL players will not resolve the crucial questions about just how dangerous football is. For now, parents have more reasons than ever to be wary of letting their sons play football. And the NFL has to worry not only about potential liability for the disabilities of former players, but also about the game's future. One of Roger Goodell's worst nightmares has to be the possibility that football will come to be regarded as boxing is today: a potential and very violent path to celebrity and wealth that only the most economically desperate would consider and that the vast majority of Americans find unpalatable.

We need much more research — on large number of former players, over a long period of time — to know just how dangerous football is to the human brain. Knowing the answer might be a blow not only to the NFL but to all lovers of football. But continuing to not know might be considerably more painful for those who play the game.

Michael Oriard is a professor of English and associate dean at Oregon State University, and the author of several books on football, including Bowled Over: Big-Time College Football from the Sixties to the BCS Era, just published by the University of North Carolina Press. He played football at Notre Dame in the late 1960s and for the Kansas City Chiefs in the early 1970s.

Today's piece of evidence comes from Florida's sloppy 29-19 over Mississippi State, against whom Tebow threw two interceptions that were returned for touchdowns.

Witness: Mark Long, Associated Press
Testimony: "[Tebow] is clearly getting disheartened with his team's offensive woes. He blew off his postgame interview session for the first time in three years in Starkville, Miss."
Pertinent Scripture: Matthew 21:12-17

Jesus entered the temple area and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves. "It is written," he said to them, "'My house will be called a house of prayer,' but you are making it a 'den of robbers.'"

The blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them. But when the chief priests and the teachers of the law saw the wonderful things he did and the children shouting in the temple area, "Hosanna to the Son of David," they were indignant.

"Do you hear what these children are saying?" they asked him.

"Yes," replied Jesus, "have you never read, "'From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise'?"

And he left them and went out of the city to Bethany, where he spent the night.

Hosannas to reader Adam

Please submit any evidence that Tim Tebow is our Redeemer to tips@deadspin.com.

Is Florida's Tebow cracking under pressure? [AP]

Hey now! It's Halloween on Saturday. Always nice to see a festive holiday fall on the drunkenest day of the week. We call this Calendarial Serendipity. Just kidding. No one calls it that. That's idiotic.

Last year I took my kids trick or treating and came upon a house that was giving out full-sized candy bars. No lie. FULL FUCKING SIZE, BABY. When you're used to miniature and fun-sized candy on Halloween your whole life, seeing a full size Butterfinger in the basket is like staring at something the size of a BATTLESHIP. It's majestic and frightening all at once. No, no, no. I couldn't possibly consume a WHOLE candy bar. That would be piggish. Let me just eat an entire bag of very small portions of candy. Much healthier.

I've never had a good Halloween costume. Ever. One time, in 9th grade, I went to a friend's house dressed in a coat and tie and covered in blood, carrying an axe. I told everyone I was a stockbroker who had to pay alimony. My friend's mom told my mom. Both were highly disturbed by my choice.

Anyway, it's a kickass slate of spooooooky games for you this go round. Let's dive right in…

The Games
All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

Broncos at Ravens: Given that the Chiefs have worn the old Dallas Texans' uniforms on occasion during the AFL throwback season, AND given the Titans have busted out the old Oilers unis, shouldn't the Ravens wear the Cleveland Browns' uniforms for a home game? That would blow my fucking mind. I'd like to see them do it just to see how long it would take Cleveland fans to drive to Baltimore and begin stabbing the shit out of people. If I were a Cleveland fan, and I saw a legitimately GOOD team playing in my team's uniforms, I'd have a nervous breakdown. I'd also be curious to see how much worse the Ravens play in those getups. I have no scientific proof of this, but it's a FACT. Playing in a Browns uniform makes you 36.8% slower. And 23.4% if you're wearing a Redskins uni. Those are some slowass uniforms.

Everyone has ripped on the Broncos throwbacks of late. However, I kind of like the striped socks they use when they wear them, especially when some players decide to twist them into a spiral. So hypnotic. Reminds me of the Clock King. Also, those are total porn stockings. Slap a pair on Sandra Shine and you've got yourself a twenty-minute self-fisting video.

Vikings at Packers: Let's use this space today to pay tribute to Aaron Rodgers. Rodgers is currently the league's second rated passer, and has an impressive 11 TD's to just 2 picks. He's done all this despite being sacked more than any other passer in the NFL (25 times). Only two other QB's have been sacked more than 20 times: Jason Campbell and Matt Cassel. Both are having horrible seasons. Rodgers was sacked roughly 83 times when the Packers played the Vikings at the Metrodome. I imagine he's rather determined to make up for that showing.

Also, Rodgers looks exactly like BJ Novak. It's unnerving, especially now that he has short hair. I keep expecting him to walk off the field with a ditzy Indian girl.

In Vikings news, the Vikings announced last night that former safety Orlando Thomas died from Lou Gehrig's Disease. This made me very sad, until Thomas called people to let them know that he was, in fact, NOT dead. In fact, he was still very much alive. Let this be a lesson to the Vikings' PR Department: Only declare people dead if they aren't alive enough to protest such an announcement.

Giants at Eagles: Holy Christ, Donovan McNabb is inaccurate. He may as well throw the ball underhanded. Half the time, I think he's lawn bowling. STOP THROWING THE BALL AT THE FUCKING GROUND, MAN.

Falcons at Saints It's Halloween cheerleader week! My boner wishes it could be Halloween cheerleader week every week!

Four Throwgasms

Dolphins at Jets: Merrill Hoge testified before Congress this week about concussions. I'm told his testimony was very good. Here is a small snippet of what he said…

"Mr. Congressman, I believe that with proper funding we have an OUTSTANDING chance to prevent future concussions for athletes young and old alike. Concussions that leave them with short-term memory loss and extreme headaches. Furthermore, VINCE YOUNG KILLED STEVE MCNAIR AND HIS MISTRESS AND I CAN PROVE IT! FLORIO! KING! DON'T LET THE NASHVILLE POLICE HOODWINK YOU! THIS IS ALL VINCE YOUNG'S DOING! FOLLOW THE BLOOD! FOLLOW THE BLOOOOOD! What's happening to my vision? Everything is shaded red! I think I left something in the microwave! DID ANYONE ELSE HEAR THAT NOISE? AHHHHHH! IT FEELS AS IF SOMEONE HAS PLACED A MIGHTY BOULDER UPON MY NECK! PRETZELS! GARBAGE LIDS MAKE FINE SHIELDS!"

Three Throwgasms

49ers at Colts: Enough, Pizza Hut. You aren't fooling anyone with your stupid fucking Wingstreet ads. Or those ads where you serve giant hotel pans of your horrible, overcooked pasta and supposedly real diners think it was flown in directly from Tuscany. BULLSHIT. It's bullshit and you know it. I've had your food, Pizza Hut. It's ASS. Oooh, you tricked chefs from BUFFALO that your wings are good? ZOMG! I'm stunned! I never would have guessed people from that gastronomic capital of the universe would be convinced the food you serve isn't low-grade dog food. Tom Collichio would knife you for the things you cook.

Seahawks at Cowboys: No free fried green beans from TGI Friday's if someone hits the video board this week. Also, a Wisconsin man this week tried to evade a DUI bust by claiming his BAC level was the result of eating a Jack Daniels steak at Friday's the night before. Disregarding the fact that 1) Alcohol in marinades burns off when cooked and 2) There isn't enough booze in a steak to keep your BAC level high 12 hours AFTER you've eaten it, I still like the fact that this man is arguing that any booze consumed in steak form SHOULD NOT COUNT. You can't arrest me! I was eating vodka bacon! That's legal!

Two Throwgasms

Texans at Bills: NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE CAGEY DICK JAURON!

One Throwgasm

Browns at Bears: I'mma call it right now: Shanahan coaches the Bears next year. Some people think Shanahan is waiting until the end of the year to take over the Redskins, but why would he bother with that horrible job when he could come into Chicago, wrest control away from Jerry Angelo, and get to work with a quarterback he loves? It's a lock, I tell you! Lovie Smith can challenge that hiring all he likes! It won't be overturned!

Rams at Lions: You'll spend three hours wondering why the FOX robot is ALSO playing guitar. I'll never understand that. The presence of the robot is odd enough. Why is he playing the fucking guitar? And doing it behind his head? Am I supposed to be impressed? Am I supposed to hold up a lighter for him? He's a fucking cartoon.

Raiders at Chargers: Most people use Yahoo for their fantasy football league. One of the leagues I'm in uses Fleaflicker, and one of the nice touches Fleaflicker adds is that every fantasy game is broken into quarters. The 1PM games are the first quarter. The 4:15PM are the second. The Sunday Night game is the third quarter, and the Monday Night game is the fourth. On its face, this is stupid. But man, does it look fucking awesome when you outscore some asshole who has no players going in the MNF game 28-0 in the fourth quarter of box score. A DOMINANT PERFORMANCE IN THE CLUTCH!

Jaguars at Titans: How about that Sally Reese? For those that missed it, former Titans GM Floyd Reese's wife went on the radio last week to blast the team and coach Jeff Fisher.

Appearing on WGFX in Nashville (via the Nashville City Paper), Sally Reese suggested that Floyd was fired with no notice, that he was given no opportunity to clean out his office, and that his resignation letter was written by Titans senior V.P. Steve Underwood…

"He kept Jeff from getting fired two times," she said. "So if he'd let him get fired, he'd still be there. Hello? That's hindsight. But you know paybacks — can I say bitch? — payback's a bitch."

Ooh, kitten's got claws! Between this and Jeff Fisher rocking the Manning jersey last week, things have gone to shit in Tennessee at lightning speed. It's bizarre. It feels as if the entire season has slipped out of their grasp as a random twist of fate. This team was steady as a rock last year. Then they don't resign Haynesworth, blow the opener against Pittsburgh, get injuries in the secondary, and suddenly they're the Lions. They aren't that different of a team from a year ago. Yet this year, they serve as proof that sometimes, you just get shit on. You really do.

I'm at the age now where I can see a shitty day coming a mile away. By 9AM, if the kids are screaming, and I feel like shit, and I know there's a trip to the fucking post office in my future, I already KNOW to write the day off. It helps prepare me for when everything else goes wrong the rest of the day. And it does. It always does. There are entire football seasons that feel that way. The Titans are having one such season, as Seattle had last year.

Panthers at Cardinals: Delhomme is starting AGAIN! It's getting to be downright irresponsible. It's like watching the Ali-Holmes documentary on ESPN all over again. (It was really good, by the way.) How much shittier could Matt Moore or AJ Feeley be? Those two must be quadruple amputees to not get the nod over Cajun Boy. Delhomme was overthrowing receivers by MILES last week.

This Week In The Redskins' Collapse
People, you really need to start reading Dan Steinberg's blog and see the work he's doing on this Redskins calamity. I fucking hate the Skins and even I find it fascinating. This man is doing Pulitzer prize winning work. IT'S TRUE! Anyway, this week Steinberg got quotes from the Redskins head counsel, playing the role of Baghdad Bob for Dan Snyder, telling fans that all signs have been banned from FedEx Field, lest they INJURE OTHER FANS. That just about killed me.

Pregame Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

"Waste of Tiamat," by High on Fire. I approve of any song that references Tiamat. I used to play Dungeons and Dragons with my brother when I was a kid. Shocking, but true. Whatever. When you're eight years old and unfamiliar with pussy, dragons are fucking badass. Anyway, I used to peruse the Monster Manual, Fiend Folio, and Dieties & Demigods manuals constantly, checking out all the picture and evil powers all the monsters had. Tiamat was the baddest bitch of the bunch. According to Wiki:

Tiamat is the five-headed queen of the evil chromatic dragons. She has one head for each customary color of chromatic dragon (black, blue, green, red, white), and each head has the powers of a member of the respective race of dragonkind.

I remember each dragon had a specific breath weapon. And wouldn't you know it, there's a D&D Wiki to refresh my memory.

Black – Acid spittle (also known as the Larry Johnson dragon)
Red – Cone of fire
Green – Cone of corrosive gas (also known as the Barney Gumble dragon)
Blue – Lightning
White – Cone of frost (also known as the Dentyne Ice dragon)

But those are not the only colored dragons in the D&D world. Far from it! There are silver dragons, bronze dragons, copper dragons, brass dragons, and even PRISMATIC dragons. That's right! RAINBOW DRAGONS! I used to pretend I was a dragon. No joke. I'd imagine myself as a giant blue dragon, hiss-talking, spitting fucking lightning bolts at those who displeased me. And now I blog for a living. Stunning turn of events. Regardless, I remember all this stupid crap fondly.

Oh, and Tiamat on the D&D Saturday morning cartoon was lame. That whole show was a fucking letdown. They could have centered the show around a chaotic evil fighter-thief who uses all his gold pieces buy more weapons and slay the shit out of everything in sight. Instead, I get a bunch of asshole kids who got stuck in some amusement park ride and just wanna go home. And Venger only had one horn. Retarded.

Embarassing Song I Own That Will Not Fire You Up

"Tears Dry On Their Own," by Amy Winehouse. Amy got a boob job this week. As the immortal flubby notes, that's akin to putting new rims on a ‘78 AMC Pacer.

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? mid-fry bacon sandwich, perhaps? Email me any question or observation you like.

LondonFAIL
In his press conference after the Pats-Bucs game in London last week, Tom Brady noted that the Wembley crowd did The Wave for ten minutes prior to the game. Roger Goodell, never give these fucking limeys a team. Ever.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Larry Johnson. Don't worry, we'll get to Matt Forte next week. But we gather today to commemorate the end of LJ's career, a career that included a grand total of two awesome seasons surrounding by nothing but FUCKING FAIL. I drafted LJ in two leagues this year. I knew it was an idiotic thing to do, and yet I did it anyway. I have no one to blame but myself. BUT THAT DOESN'T ABSOLVE YOU FROM FUCKING SUCKING, YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT. God, how I loathe Larry Johnson. He was always a thin-skinned pussy, and he'll never stop being a thin-skinned pussy, regardless of how many blatantly incorrect SI puff pieces are composed in his name. THIS IS IT FOR YOU, LARRY. YOU CAN'T HURT ME ANYMORE.

/drops LJ in both leagues

God, that felt great. I've been wanting to do that since the day I drafted you. FAG.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Indy was correct, making me 6-1 on the year. That puts the Colts, Eagles, Vikings, Texans, Ravens, Saints and Skins off the board now. We once again pick a team for your suicide pool and something that makes you WANT to commit suicide. This week's pick? Chicago, and the Fresh Beat Band.

Oh, you'll pay for piggybacking off the High School Musical fad and turning it into programming for small children, Nickelodeon. You will pay dearly. NA NA NA NA LET'S GO BANANAS! GAHHHHHHH!!! Can't… get… perky melody… out of head…

/sticks two-bit drill into temple

Ahhhhhh…

Nazi Shark's Vegas Lock Of The Week
Lots of sports sites, to demonstrate the arbitrary nature of gambling, like to have animals like monkeys pick games to see if they can outwit their human counterparts. There's no reason we at Deadspin can't also get in on the fun. So we've asked National Socialist German Workers' Party member Rolf, who also happens to be a shark, to pick one game a week. Take it away, Nazi shark.

"This week, I like the Colts giving 12.5 points at home against the 49ers."

What's your Halloween costume this year, Rolf?

"Same as always. Jew Cousteau. I put on a snorkel and swim around with a gold treasure chest. Nazi orca always gets a kick out of it."

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 5-2.

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was douchenozzle22. He gets free rant space here:

Dear LA Dodgers fans,

You are the biggest collection of front-running, unknowledgeable lemmings I have ever come across. Having made the trek to LA to see Game 2 of the NLCS with 3 of my friends, we were ready for a whole bunch of shit talking directed our way, along with an occasional airborne pint of budmillercoors piss. All we got were any combination of various tenses of the words "suck," "fuck," and "Phillies" with an occasional peanut thrown in our direction. Not to mention the only time you cheered was when your piece of shit I-pod looking scoreboard told you to.

This week's winner was That Guy. That Guy, come and claim your prize.

Great Moments In Poop History
Another week, another batch of slick, wet poop stories. One reader suggested we take all the poop stories and create a Deleted Stains post for Fridays. Not sure if Daulerio would be wild about that idea. Anyway, this week's story comes from Matt. I call it, "Marley And Me And Poop":

I was maybe like 13 or 14, somewhere around junior high age, and taking my dog for a walk. We lived in the Philly burbs and had a nice stretch of woods that went all the way to the river where I'd take my dog for walks. I'd had him out for maybe 10 minutes or so, and as he was taking a dump, I realized that I had to go too. It literally only took about a minute to walk back to my house but I figured I'm already in the woods so why not just take a shit there.

So I dropped my shorts and started taking a dump with my dog. Our eyes locked as we both pooped and it was a beautiful bonding moment that I'd never had with my dog before. Anyway, he finishes before I do, makes a bee line towards me as I'm still going, dives right into my turds and starts rolling around in it. Not sure what looked so attractive about them to him but I had never seen him so excited to be rolling around on the ground. He literally had shit, my shit, all over him from his head to his tail, just covered in it. It was funny at first but started to get really gross and I nearly puked.

So finally I take him home and lie to my parents and tell them that he for some reason decided to roll around in his shit. Which confused them because in the ten or so odd years the dog was alive he never had that problem. Then I laughed to myself as I watched my parents hose my crap off of our dog in the front yard for 20 minutes.

Oh man, you made your folks clean it up? You little shitty shit!

Fire This Asshole!
Is there anything more exciting than a coach losing his job? All year long, we'll keep track of which coaches will almost certainly get fired at year's end or sooner. And now, your updated chopping block:

Tom Cable
Jim Zorn
Eric Mangini
Jim Mora
Jeff Fisher*
Dick Jauron*
Jack Del Rio*
Todd Haley
John Fox
Norv Turner
Raheem Morris
Lovie Smith*

I'm telling you. Shanny is measuring Lovie's windows as we speak.

Gametime Halloween Candy Of The Week

Reese's FastBreak! I worked as an account executive on the Hershey's business for an ad agency named DDB for three years at the turn of the century. Every week, we had to rent a car in Manhattan and drive out to Hershey, PA, to meet with clients about various matters of business.

When you go to a meeting at the Hershey's corporate offices, there's candy EVERYWHERE. In giant bowls when you walk in the door. At the reception desk. Lining the hallways. They have candy IN THE FUCKING FILE CABINETS FOR REFERENCE PURPOSES. There are boxes upon boxes of candy lying around in meeting rooms when they can't find anywhere else to put it. And every meeting room has a giant bowl filled to brim and above with candy. Any time the candy in the bowls leveled off – not emptied, but simply came flush with the top of the bowl – an assistant wheeled in a new, overflowing bowl to replace it. People were eating candy at 9AM or earlier. And everyone who said in the car that they wouldn't start eating candy the second they walked in the door failed.

Best of all, as the company's agency of representation, we got test product. TEST PRODUCT! FUCK YEAH! This was the candy they invented in the test kitchen and sampled among themselves to see if it was worth mass producing. One of the test products I first got to eat was FastBreak. They gave us a giant white box of the bars, all with plain white wrappers. Let me tell you something. Candy is great. But TEST PRODUCT candy fucking rules. It's new, and no one else gets to eat it but you. It's awesome. It's candy from the fucking FUTURE.

We got to brainstorm names for FastBreak as it was being developed of the market. The earliest name for it was the Reese's Peanut Butter Bar, which no one argued with. But they decided that name was too boring and wanted something more energetic. They almost named the bar Growler, which really would have been unfortunate. Instead, they named it FastBreak. Because when you think of a point guard rushing down the court to take advantage of a 3-on-2 situation, you think of peanut butter nougat and peanut butter sheathed in milk chocolate.

FastBreak was one of several different products they came up with while I worked on the account. Hershey's Bites was another one. Ever have Heath Bites? HOLY SWEET BABY MOSES, those are good. And they came out with filled Twizzlers when I was there too. They were called Twist-n-Fill, and I don't think they sell them anymore.

Any time we made the trip to Hershey, the client always let us into the company's employee store, where you can get all their candy, in bulk, for next to nothing. The store may as well have had a chocolate river flowing through with Oompa Loompas dancing around. Before we made any trip to the store, we had to go around the agency and take an inventory of any and all candy people wanted. Because there was a ton of shit in the Hershey's employee store that you couldn't get at a regular store: Zero bars, chocolate Twizzlers, watermelon Twizzlers, Cookies n Mint bars. Anything you wanted. We looted the store for everything and would bring back entire trunks of the stuff back to New York for everyone else. Whenever it was Halloween, or Christmas, or Easter, the load would double. And so the agency itself became a kind of Hershey East, with shitloads of kickass candy all over the place.

Don Draper got all the booze and stray pussy he liked. I got candy. Not terribly fair, but still. It was good candy. Man, I could go for some candy right now.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week
Reader Gabriel sends in easily the coolest terrible beer I've seen yet: Dark Horse High Gravity Ice Lager.

Sure, Beer 30 is great. The clocks on the can all point to Beer 30 time, and hey, guess what, it's always Beer 30 time. No sense in NOT having a time to get hammered. Also, the price was unbeatable, at $10 for a 30 rack.

That is until Dark Horse High Gravity Lager rammed it in the balls and took over as reigning shitty beer.

Look at this can:

Dark Horse High Gravity Lager (HIGH GRAVITY!). Note the dark horse, the lightning and the icy mountains set on a glacier in the background. Also, the gothic text. Also — for emphasis —THE FUCKING LIGHTNING. It's easily the best bang for your buck, coming in at $6 for a 24 pack. The ultimate beer for college kids who just want to get plastered.

I don't care if it says it was brewed by some horrible corporation called GJS Sales and has a deal with the Taliban to keep it so cheap. I don't care that it tastes a little metallic and gives the worst hangovers imaginable. Nor do I care that, because it's so cheap, it's unquestionably giving me dick cancer. When you're broke and need cheap beer, there is no better answer than the Dark Horse.

Gabriel is RIGHT! $6 for 24 cans? Good God, it may just be ethanol with yellow food coloring. And it's ICE brewed! For extra booziness! And that is one truly majestic can. It's like the cover of a Sword album. Well played, Gabriel. VERY well played.

Robert Evans' MVP Watch!
Time to start thinking about who the leaders are for the NFL's MVP award. So every week, legendary Hollywood producer Robert Evans will join us to give us his assessment. Take it away, Mr. Evans.

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP this year is still Peyton Manning of the Colts! Polished? You bet! Accurate? Like John Toll's eye for shooting grassy fields at 5PM! Oh, Halloween. My, my, my. We've had some pretty memorable Halloween shindigs at Casa Evans over the years. One year, Ann-Margaret came to the house completely naked, save for a pendulum she hung from the folds of her womanhood. Baby, I said, what kind of costume is that? Evans, she told me, I'm a metronome. I keep you tickling my ivories in perfect time. Sassy? YOU BET!"

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Rams Fans

Anvil! The Story Of Anvil. Greatest movie ever? Greatest movie ever. I don't even know which part to single out. Was it Lips trying to get Thin Lizzy guy to remember him by mentioning that he used to play the guitar with a vibrator? Was it Cut Loose, the Anvil fan you see above, who looks like a mongoloid and runs a telemarketing company? Was it the fact that Robb's sister was named Droid? Was it Robb's painting of his own shit? I think it's Robb's painting of his own shit. I loved this movie and would happily watch a 36-hour cut of it.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"We have places your family can hide in peace and security: Cape Fear, Terror Lake, New Horrorfield, Screamville…"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Sexiest Woman Alive Kate Beckinsale. Kate married her "Underworld" director. And now you know why so many assholes go to film school.
-For the gals: Becky sends this link of shirtless hunk Cam Gigandet. Sexy pull-up!

Enjoy the games, everyone. Happy Halloween.

Gentlemen,
They are filiming a movie right next to my work in the South End of Boston. I took out my camera and went for a walk to try to get a glimpse of Cameron Diaz etc because it's rare we get actual celebrities around here. As I am walking back to my office I see Peter King talking fitness with one of the Boston Sports Clubs Physical Trainers. I usually see him at the coffee shop around the corner stuffing his face, but looks like he's gotten off his ass and tried to lose some of that cake that is pasted to the inside of his colon. Eat your heart out Drew! You fat bastard.

(Thanks Dave M. for the pic and email.)

Now, talk to Peter.

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

The book is the former referee's account of his time in the NBA and the events that led to his conviction, in 2007, on charges that he relayed inside information on NBA games — including several that he was working — to a professional gambler. Blowing the Whistle falls somewhere between a confessional and an indictment, both of his former colleagues and their employer. In the book, Donaghy alleges, among other things, that referee Dick Bavetta spoke unabashedly about his role as the NBA's "go-to guy." Donaghy cites Game 6 of the notorious 2002 Western Conference finals, between the Lakers and the Kings — a game that NBA conspiracy theorists still talk about as if it were basketball's grassy knoll. Donaghy, who was not assigned to the game, reports that Bavetta "openly talked about the fact that the league wanted a Game 7." We'll have excerpts later today.

Donaghy is currently in a federal detention center near Tampa, a week away from his release. About 10 months ago, he shopped the book to Triumph Books, an imprint of Random House, according to a source close to Donaghy. Triumph, the source says, "put forth a huge effort to verify every statement in that book." (Triumph's editorial director, Tom Bast, declined to comment.) Two weeks ago, Blowing the Whistle was ready for printing; 60 Minutes had plans to interview Donaghy in conjunction with the book's publication. Then the NBA came calling. "They came after Random House and threatened a lawsuit," the source says, "and Random House just rolled and decided to not go with it. It's really that simple." To his knowledge, no one at the NBA had actually read the book.

"Which is why," he goes on, "Triumph was so intrigued as to why the parent company decided to not go with it. Because there was no logical reasoning other than an open threat. It just doesn't make sense. If they had come down and said, 'There are some specific things that are flat-out lies or they're wrong and we think there are fabrications or something,' then there'd be some basis to say, 'OK, we need to back up and double-check this.' But this was just an open comment. And so we don't know what the specific basis of that potential suit might've been."

The book no longer has an Amazon page; it's cached here. Meanwhile, Donaghy is looking for another publisher. He may even self-publish. "It's dead right now," the source says. "The whole thing has fallen flat on its face. ... Obviously, the NBA has got some people running scared."

Here it is, in full:

A Message from George Bodenheimer

Top Story 10/23/09 @ 4:19 PM

ESPN is clearly one of the most dynamic companies in the world and we take great pride in our work. Our success often leads to media stories about our business and people. Those stories are often very positive, but not always.

During the last few days, we have received a fair amount of unwanted media coverage, including a series of Internet posts where the editor expressly stated that many of these items were based on rumor and that they had not attempted to verify their accuracy. Compounding this issue is my disgust that some of our own unidentified employees are leaking materials to the media thereby contributing in a significant way to these destructive efforts. As you know, we have policies that govern how and who should be in contact with the media regarding the company. I feel it is very important to make clear to all employees that violating these policies is a serious offense which can, and very likely will, result in the immediate termination of employment of the offending employee.

ESPN has a hard working, creative culture that produces outstanding content every day. Our culture and our people are the keys to our continuing success. I also want to reaffirm our commitment to maintaining a workplace where all employees have the opportunity to grow, are free from harassment of any kind and are respectful and positive toward each other.

If anyone feels that we are not living up to our commitment or that your work environment, either in our offices or at any remote location, is of concern, you can and should bring that to the attention of your supervisor, your HR business partner, our HR Leader Paul Richardson, Ed Durso or to me personally.

Our mission is to serve sports fans. Our values call for us to show care and respect for all employees. I want to assure you the leadership of ESPN is committed to achieving both.

EARLIER: George Bodenheimer Requests That ESPN Employees Stop Telling The Media Who's Boinking Whom

Before we get into this week's batch of emails, we turn to the always entertaining fallout from this week's Redskins defeat. This morning, there are numerous stories going around the web about FedEx Field security kicking out patrons for holding up anti-Snyder signs and even starting anti-Snyder chants. We start at Mister Irrelevant (credit to them for the above pic):

After the Skins gave up the big touchdown to Jackson in the third quarter, one of my friends and I took out the banner and were holding it up. Next thing I know, four security guys are coming up both sets of stairs and headed right for us. They take my banner and tell us we have to leave the stadium… Once we got to the concourse area they asked for my ID, which I quickly tried to pass off to a friend. One of the security guys snatched my wallet and wrote down my drivers license info in his little black book. I guess that means means I'm banned from the stadium or something.

And then there's this account from Extreme Skins:

Me and about 10-12 other guys moved underneath the MNF booth in the 2nd half and in the 4th quarter we started a "We Want Gruden" chant. Gruden and Jaws were looking at us and laughing, and then Gruden stood up and flashed his Super Bowl ring at us. After a little while security came over and said we were not allowed chant "We Want Gruden". The guy left and then a little while later we started a "Danny Sucks" chant. The MNF booth is right next to Danny's box so there is no question Danny heard it. A few minutes later Danny sent down his goon squad, cops and all and told us we had to leave. There was about 1 minute left in the game, so no big deal, but pretty funny.

Jesus. What a fucking thin-skinned dipshit. Hey Snyder, those people there last night are the last people on Earth devoted enough to still pay money to see your terrible team in your terrible stadium. Perhaps you should consider LISTENING to them, instead of throwing them out and covering your ears like a fucking third grader. Then there's this quote from Steve Coll in the New Yorker (via Steinz):

The general atmosphere around the team suggests Zimbabwe—a failed state, an intractable dictator, and an impotent and suffering populace

No doubt Snyder would hack off your child's limbs with a machete if maintaining power required it. I daresay we are in FIRE MILLEN territory with this franchise. It's been fascinating to watch the Redskins scratch and claw at the basement floor for new trap doors to plummet down. Each week, the fans get angrier and management grows even more oblivious. It's fantastic theater, I tell you. And it gets crazier by the hour. I wish they could stage an impromptu season of "Hard Knocks" with this team for the final nine weeks of the season. It would be fucking RIVETING.

Now, to the inbox. SR:

Maryland really calls the DMV the MVA? Really? MVA is medical shorthand for a car accident ("motor vehicle accident"). If you see someone sniggering like Beavis and/or Butthead while in line at the MVA, it's probably a trauma surgeon.

Another fun fact about Maryland: The battered women's shelters here are formally known as Treatment for Women And Toddlers.

Kevin R:

What are your feelings on shitting in a bar? Obviously there are certain circumstances in which you must drop trou, especially during daytime outings which usually include some sort of wing consumption, but what about at night? As you know, most men's rooms are within a few feet of the women's. You don't want to be labeled all night as the guy who laid a bomb, effectively ruining your chances of speaking with any women without having to immediately deny that the rancid stench filling the bar earlier came from your ass. Find somewhere else nearby? Find some matches? Or be a fucking man and fire one out with pride?

PS - I just realized I spent 10 minutes, at work, proofreading an email about taking a shit.

I've never heard of someone avoiding a bar toilet because they don't want to offend the women in the next room over. It's a much more common circumstance to avoid a bar toilet because some bar toilets will make you question your very faith in humanity. You know the ones of which I speak…

No, thanks.

Kevin brings up a useful point here about matches. Mrs. Drew ALWAYS lights a match in the shitter after I've used it. I never knew about this trick when I was single. It really does work. That burning match smell just covers the poop smell right up, like paper over rock. It's amazing. Thus, now whenever I poop, I get the added bonus of playing with fire afterwards. Don't let anyone tell you lighting a match isn't fun, even when you're 33 years old. It's awesome. I'd light matches all day if I could.

John:

Drew, I've turned to you to save my Halloween. I need a Halloween costume idea. Not just any idea. One that, when I walk into a party, would send everyone into a frenzy of laughter. Or just one that would get me a lot of attention, preferably from the ladies. Also the costume would need to be simple and somewhat cheap. Those are my only stipulations. And yes, I'm completely unorignal when it comes to this stuff. I don't wanna end up going as a golfer or pirate or some crap. Any ideas? Please help. Thanks.

Brother, you have come to the wrong fucking place. I have kids now, which means I NEVER have to dress up for Halloween ever again. It's the best thing ever. People should have kids for that benefit alone. No more buying fucking costume shit at Ricky's, or knowing someone will upstage you with something kickass. That all ends when you have a little kid.

Obviously, John has many dead celebrities to choose from this year: Jacko, Farrah, Ed McMahon, Billy Mays (whose family has already endorsed the idea of people dressing up as him this year. Those people never stop marketing), Bea Arthur, Swayze, etc. Here are some fairly rudimentary ideas. Otherwise, I suggest the following:

-Peter King (stuff a pillowcase under your shirt, carry around a Macbook Air and cup of coffee)
-Steve Phillips (staple an ugly female friend to your body)
-A colon (cut out two dots, place them vertically on your clothing)
-Josh Hamilton (Rangers jersey, cross, powdered sugar on your nose)

Those are all awful ideas. But that's Halloween for you. Nothing but one giant fucking creative headache. I trust our commenters have far more reasonable ideas.

Brian:

Have you ever used a japanese toilet? With the built in bidet? Magical.

No, but I have barfed on a Japanese hotel tatami mat.

Anonymous:

You need to lame it up, sir. THIS is the Twitter feed of Letterman's head writer.

Egads.

Wow. Holy crap. Check out some of the Scheftian humor from Eric Stangel:

NBA season begins tonight. Out of habit Isiah Thomas is coming up with his list of excuses for why the Knicks stink

NFL: In a desperate attempt to get back in the playcalling loop, Jim Zorn has changed his name to Sherman Zorn... Redskins

Mark McGwire joins Cardinals as hitting coach & will be back in uniform... a uniform 3 sizes smaller than when he played

That's the man in charge of making sure David Letterman is funny every night. GOT ANY GUM?!

DanyHeatleySpeedwagon:

Alright question for you. I've been married for a year and a month now. How long until your wife got "the itch", and how long did you hold her off? Was there any good stalling tactics? I've been told getting a kitten will only intensify her need/want for a child.

Christ, don't get a kitten. Kittens become cats. That's worse than having a kid. I think most women who marry under the age of 30 start pressuring you for kids a year after marriage. All men deserve at least a year (I'd argue two) of regular marriage before having kids. You need that time to enjoy yourselves as a couple. Also, you need that time to figure out if you should get divorced BEFORE you have kids. Always a good rule of thumb.

After that, you're living on borrowed time. Marriage is just a series of your wife pressuring you to do something until you finally capitulate. Having kids. Moving. And such and such. Once she wants that kid, she WILL get it. All you can do is offer a time frame and negotiate down from there.

Tom:

In response to Donovan, my nephew was a little monster when it came to diaper changing. In one motion he could arch his back and grab the diaper from under himself (at which point things would degenerate like a Russian hostage rescue.) He was also fond of grabbing a handful of poop and rolling like an alligator.

Here's the process they settled on:
Put the kid on the floor on a stain-proof pad.
Sit on the floor with the kid between your legs.
Pin his upper arms under your heels.
With one hand, grab both of the kid's ankles and hold his ass completely off the ground.
Change the diaper with the other hand.

It also works to put the kid on a table, grab his ankles with your left hand (assuming the kid's head is to your left) and pin his arms with your elbow and body by leaning across the kid so his chest is under your left armpit.

Wait, are you changing the kid, or are you fucking it?

Steven:

Just installed the newest version of Internet Explorer and realized it now has a function called "InPrivate Browsing" that leaves no electronic trail of what you did while online - i.e. fully eliminates the chance of my wife "accidentally" seeing sites I've been to by checking the history. This has to be the most important technical advancement since, well, ever.

Let's all congratulate Steven for being the last person on Earth to use Explorer. You could have been surfing for porn anonymously with Firefox two centuries ago, kid.

Dave:

Why does everyone go apeshit for Breast Cancer Awareness Month? As in, why does breast cancer get its own month and even its own race? You've got these little pink ribbons all over shit, you've got NFL players wearing pink armbands and gloves... what the hell? Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for beating breast cancer, but I'm also for beating ALL cancer. Where is non-hodgkins lymphoma awareness month? Or testicular cancer awareness month? Or pancreatic cancer awareness month? What in the shit is so special about breast cancer?

What's the reasoning behind this? Is it like some girl power type thing where women rise up and gather attention for only the type of cancer that they can get? Isn't that a little fucking selfish?

Breast cancer is the most common cancer among all women, and kills more women than any other cancer (the other big killer cancers are lung, colon, stomach). So wear a pink ribbon and shut the fuck up.

Chad S:

I do not like pants. I am lucky enough to be able to wear jeans and a t-shirt to work. What's the protocol on wearing the same jeans? I usually wear the same pair of jeans for a week or two unless they get really dirty. Is this ok? Jeans fit really well around Day 3.

I too hate pants and wear mesh shorts around the house at all times. If forced to leave the house, I wear jeans. I never wash my jeans unless I spill something horrible on them, or my wife demands they be washed. This can mean a period of weeks, and even maybe a month, goes by without me washing my jeans. I am a repulsive person and I don't care who knows it. Pants are for suckers. Plus, jeans really DO fit better the dirtier they are. Ever wash your jeans and suddenly they fit all weird? Annoying. Only happens to fat people, I imagine.

Jeff:

Chocolate Riesen is number two on my list. Number one is Toffifay. If you haven't had one, try it, they're fantastic.

I've tried them, and I agree. Remember when Toffifay used to be a parting gift on Sale of the Century? Weird.

Dan:

I most often eat waffle fries at Chick Fil A, and I have also noticed and enjoyed that waffle fries are, as you put it "ketchup nets." My issue with ketchup packets is that I always have to open 8-10 of them to have enough ketchup to go around. Why does ketchup come in such tiny packets? Think about it: mayo- huge packet. 3 times the size of a ketchup packet. (Almost) no one eats that much mayo in one sitting. Another example, the wonderful dipping sauces at Chick Fil A. They come in glorious little tubs, and each probably has 4-5 ketchup packets worth of goodness inside. How easy is it to get to? Just rip the top off. It's harder to open a condom than it is to get into the polynesian sauce. So why the FUCK does the #1 seed of condiments, ketchup, come in such tiny packets designed only to frustrated fat fingered fast food fans? FUCK!

Everyone loathes ketchup packets, of course. I don't know why ketchup is so precious that they have to be rationed into little packets more suited to contain fucking Sweet N Low. If anything, you end up wasting ketchup by grabbing far more packets than you know you'll need, lest you end up short. This means you end up not using some of the packets and throwing them away, which is criminal. And ever go to a place where the ketchup is behind the counter, and the fuckers only give you two packets when you ask? AND WHAT IS THE DEAL WITH AIRLINE FOOD?

But yeah, I put fifty pounds of ketchup on most anything I eat, and demand all restaurants be equipped with pump containers and Big Gulp cups to accommodate my ketchup needs.

Ryan:

Actually, if you ever taste Beer 30, you'll understand why it makes no sense to package it in groups of 6, 12 or even 24. Only the worst carpet-pissing, sink-pooping alcoholics find the taste of Beer 30 worth the spike in one's blood alcohol level, and those folks find 30 beers far superior to any smaller number. I've swilled/bonged/sipped-with-Ramen plenty of Schlitz and Natty Ice in my day, but Beer 30 tastes like 1 part Hamm's and 3 parts gerbil piss mixed in with the cigar ash and rodent corpses that are no doubt rampant in Beer 30's production facility (most likely a cottage in Brainerd, MN).

Also, many readers pointed out that Beer 30 is only sold in 30 packs, and that the clock on the can is meant to signify that the time is now Beer:30. I approve of both tactical moves. It's Beer:30 somewhere, people. Reader Mike also said Beer 30 tastes like grape soda if left unattended for too long, which he finds unsettling, as do I.

B:

An important poop question, have you ever dug your own hole?

As a veteran of many a backpacking and overnight canoe trip, digging your own hole to poop in is an experience I am quite familiar with.

I have dug and hole and pooped into it. I've done the wiping with leaves or a rock and all that camping stuff. I agree there's something to be said for digging a hole in the woods and pooping into it. It makes me want to draw a treasure map leading to it.

Oli:

Recently I was cooking a bacon and scrambled eggs breakfast, which is a key part of my weekend schedule, usually falling between my Saturday morning dump and my Sunday afternoon shower.

It was in making my delicious meal that I stumbled across what I am claiming as my own invention: the "mid-cook meal".

Basically, I was super hungry, so while I was cooking the first two pieces of bacon I threw some bread in the toaster, and when the toast was made I threw in some ketchup and had myself a delicious bacon sandwich, WHICH I ATE WHILE I COOKED THE BACON AND EGG BREAKFAST.

Blew my mind.

That's good obesity, right there. I too go into any cooking experience knowing full well that I'll be eating a great portion of my ingredients long before the final meal is prepared. Say, where did all the shredded cheese go for the lasagna? To heaven. That's where.

Brian:

I can't believe this didn't get mentioned the last time the topic of kids tv came up, but Geneveve is one fine piece of latin ass. Thank you that is all

He's right!

Bob:

During an awful road trip I came up with a fun juvenile discussion point. Rank the order you want someone to do the following on you: shit, piss, bleed, cum, and puke. Personally I go 1. piss 2. vomit 3. blood 4. shit 5. cum. Any thoughts? I won't feel bad if you don't run this.

Well, blood ranks first, of course. I love having blood stains on my clothing. Makes me look tough. Cum is an easy second, because it doesn't smell all that terrible and there's never as much of it as the rest. If you can get over your own homophobia, cleaning up cum off your body is a snap. Been doing it with my own for years now. Piss is third. Vomit is fourth. Poop is last. You never want poop on your body. I get kiddie poop on my hands at least once a week. It never stops being revolting.

Craggs:

So I'm reading Pete Hamill's Sinatra book and come across this, from an anecdote about hanging with Frank at P.J. Clarke's.

"You know what I love most about this joint?" Sinatra said. "Taking a piss. Those urinals ... You could stand Abe Beame in one of them and have room to spare."

I believe your phrase is "Fuck and yes."

Craggs is just the best, isn't he? Only Craggs would be reading THAT book right now for no reason at all. I have no idea who Abe Beame is, and yet that metaphor still feels perfect.

Jonathan R.:

So I wanted to get your opinion on one of mankind's longest traditions. Whistling. My girlfriend fucking HATES it when I whistle, and I kind of do it a lot. I blame my grandpa for whistling often when I was a youngster, and I just kind of picked it up and enjoyed it. Anyway, yeah any time I'm in a car with the radio on, when there's a lull in a conversation, or sometimes when walking down the street, I'll find myself aimlessly whistling. Which then brings the wrath of the ladyfriend to cram it. I think she should calm the fuck down. So what do you think: annoying and outdated trait, or no big deal? Thanks for the guidance.

Whistling is that rare thing people do that's fun to do if you're the person doing it, and agonizing to listen to if you aren't the person doing it. There are people in my gym locker room who break out whistling sometimes, and it completely weirds me the fuck out. The fuck are YOU so happy about, asshole? You're naked in a room with ten other men. Stop that right now.

So yeah, don't whistle around the lady.

Jeff:

I work in a reasonably professional environment. In the can we have a two urinal (with divider) set-up, and we have a significant number of guys who insist on taking a step back to hit the small amount of water at the bottom to make as much noise/foam as possible. Isn't the basic 45-degree angle against the porcelain called for here?

See, I'm one of those guys who will take the step back to make the foam. I love doing that. It's like a contest, trying to make the most piss bubbles. Who likes taking a quiet piss at work? You don't have to clean that shit. Part of the joy of pissing is hearing that shit blast the water, especially when you really have to go. It's immensely satisfying on a spiritual level. I say you bring the fucking DRAMA.

Greg:

I know that I am late, both in seeing this and sending it to you, but I was watching Top Chef from a couple weeks ago and the competition was to cook for a charity event called Pigs and Pinot. I don't know what the charity is for, and I don't care. All I know is that I get mouth orgasms from a pig roast with cans of PBR, and this is an event where great chefs cook delicious pork meals and give you wine. Who cares about the Vikings, you need to get Gawker to send you there.

Agreed. I saw that episode. Charlie Palmer looks like a kiddie rapist from a 1930's film noir. Also, Kevin is winning the shit out of that thing. You can't stop that man.

Three mean little bastards named Nelson Hamilton, Cecil Peoples and Marcos Rosales watched Rua solve the riddle of the pee-slurping Lyoto Machida. And they rewarded the best fighter on Saturday with a loss. Shogun should be the new champ. Instead, he's headed back to Brazil with a fat lip and a guano sandwich.

But what else would you expect in a city that dissembles for a living? Before the fight, 6,000 ghouls with open wounds twitched to "Thriller" outside the Staples Center. These crazies were trying to break a record set in Mexico City for the most simultaneous Thriller dancers. What better tribute to the looming absurdity of the evening than to assemble an army in white face to snatch a nonsense title away from Mexicans. (Will we not let them have anything, by christ?)

The scene inside the Staples Center made even less sense. The whole complex is a monument to bad design. Imagine several giant termite mounds patrolled by twitchy, Kevlar-clad cops. Secret entrances and tunnels have been carved out for Hollywood stars while the hoi polloi scrum for seats. The media are herded into impossibly tight rows like slaughter hogs. Try to move and you become a fire hazard. Apparently if anyone other than Ashton Kutcher walks more than 20 feet on the event center floor, the whole goddamn arena will go up in flames.

All of which is to say is that the omen was bad heading into the championship bout. Machida had reeled off a string of such impressive victories in the UFC that he looked invincible, a notion confirmed statistically on a data sheet circulated before the fight. Throughout his seven UFC bouts, Machida had been hit at a rate (.56 strikes per minute) much lower than any fighter in UFC history. Machida was also supremely accurate, landing 65 percent of his strikes, second only to Anderson Silva in UFC history. He was second only to Georges St. Pierre in takedown defense. Machida had never lost a round on any judge's scorecard in the UFC. He was already being talked about as the man who would rule for years over the light heavyweight division, which has seen the belt change hands so often that Dana White must be rending his last hair trying to find a champeen who sticks.

Lucky for White, three judges on Saturday dispatched that problem. In took all of one round to see that Rua would be true to his declared strategy — be patient and wear down the opponent — and that it might actually work. In the early stages of the fight, Rua began landing hard leg kicks. Machida usually dances out of range, but he couldn't seem to escape Rua's wheeling Muay Thai strikes. Instead, Machida began countering with a straight left, trying to time the punch with Rua's kicks to catch his opponent with his guard down. But Rua kept his right hand pinned to his jaw throughout the fight and continued to pressure Machida, preventing the piss-swilling Karate master from controlling the distance. Machida landed his own body kicks and knees but by the end of the second round, as angry blood welts formed on his torso and thighs, it was clear that the unbeatable man could be beaten. Rua had become the riddle.

These first two rounds are the source of controversy. They were very close. This wasn't a blatant robbery. But Rua had the better strikes and took the fight to his opponent. Machida staged a minor comeback in round three and landed a beautiful punch-kick-kick combo, but rounds four and five were all Rua, who appeared to be in fantastic shape. His kicks had crippled Machida's mobility. His punches had cut open Machida's mouth. As he stalked the champion, he landed double or triple the number of strikes as Machida. It was strange to see no sense of urgency from the champ. His title was slipping away. There was only surprise in his eyes as the final bell sounded.

Surprise, too, when the scores rolled in — all three judges had it the same: 48-47 for Machida. The hacks gasped. The audience of 16,000 booed. And Rua, who had practiced his kicks a thousand times a day in training, could only hang his head. "A fight's a fight," he said. "What can I do?"

What he could do, according to Yahoo!'s Kevin Iole, is not fault the judges. Rather, Rua should blame his corner for telling him he was ahead and not urging him to press the action in the last two rounds, Iole says. This is stupid. Rua handily won the last two rounds, even in the myopic eyes of the judges. Maybe he should have tried for a knockout, but Machida has never even been knocked down. No. Rua shouldn't blame his corner. He should blame the judges. He should blame them all the way home. And when he gets home, he should construct Santeria effigies and bring down the voodoo on their heads.

A few unrelated observations:

1.) Judging by what was shouted at the fighters, the fans here are far less creative and grammatically intuitive than fans in Philly. A sampling:

• "Hit him in the ugly face!" (One can only assume that "the ugly face" is a euphemism for a part of the body that is nowhere near the face.)

• "Kick him in his ass." (It's always good to be specific with two fighters and a referee in the cage.)

• "Beat him up!" (Are you kidding?)

2.) The fighters with the best walk-in music tend to lose. The fighters who defeat them have hideous taste in music but the best quotes. Case in point: Spencer Fisher, a tough hick, comes in to Johnny Cash's "God's Going to Cut You Down." Fisher is quickly put in a crucifix and cut down by the pop-loving Joe Stevenson, who looks like a far more unpredictable fighter after training with Greg Jackson. Afterward, Stevenson explains how he learned his winning maneuver: "My little sister and big sister used to team up on me and put me in that position to put makeup on me."

Another case in point: Yoshiyuki Yoshida busts out some traditional Japanese string music with a modern beat and is beaten down immediately by overproduced rap aficionado Anthony Johnson, whose wicked right hand makes him one of the up-and-coming strikers in the welterweight division. "I saw a big face in front of me and I decided to punch it," Johnson said.

3.) Cain Velasquez deserves a title shot. He manhandled a very good heavyweight in Ben Rothwell. Velasquez has great cardio and an All-American wrestling background that matches up well with whoever wins the Brock Lesnar-Shane Carwin fight. Also, he has "Brown Pride" tattooed on his chest, which incited the racialist tendencies of the audience. With UFC making a concerted push into the Hispanic market, you can expect to see a lot more of this fellow.

And so, as the lights come up on the weathered false breasts of California, we exeunt from the arena to the song "Going Back to Cali." But we're leaving Cali not coming back to it, you dumb Staples Center zombie fucks. I can't wait until the Clippers' season starts. ...

Luke O'Brien is a writer in Washington DC. He's written about MMA for Washington Post Magazine, SI.com and other publications.

Top photo via Sherdog

EARLIER: UFC 104: Urine For A Good Fight

Yes, those stories, in particular.

So I don't have it in my possession. I probably won't get it either, since the unholy war currently being waged at ESPN amid the Phillips fallout (and in the wake of the Deasdpin horndog dossier hostage crisis) has left me radioactive to many cooped up in Norby's Palace Of Fun in Nowhere, Connecticut.

Thing is, the attack on ESPN has spread and it turns out some other media outlets are currently in the process of digging up more bodies for display. The peg — if Phillips' consensual relationship with Brooke Hundley had "irreparably damaged" his ability to talk about baseball for the network, what about the others currently (or previously) involved in lascivious affairs?

It would be silly to condemn the company over immorality or for the rampant employee-porking that seems to take place over there — or anywhere, including Gawker Media — but ESPN has opened itself up for more scrutiny — and more embarrassment for its employees — with its sloppy handling of the situation.

Sobering reality: what ESPN needs this week, more than anything else, is for Michael Jackson to die again. Stay tuned.

Of course, the announcement came late on Sunday night because they thought we wouldn't be paying attention. (They were correct!) It's not clear what happened between Wednesday when Phillips was "granted" a leave of absence and today when the network decided he had to be canned. But even the front page of ESPN.com announced the dismissal in very understated tones.

"Steve Phillips is no longer working for ESPN," network spokesman Josh Krulewitz said in a statement. "His ability to be an effective representative for ESPN has been significantly and irreparably damaged, and it became evident it was time to part ways."

I'll say. Just in case you have trouble parsing that statement, it seems he was fired not for having sex with a subordinate or sexual harassment or creating an unsafe work environment or even for cheating on his wife. He was fired for being an embarrassment to the company. That's where the line is, in case you were wondering. Krulewitz would not comment when asked about the employment status of Brooke Hundley, the 22-year-old production assistant who slept with Phillips and then began a steady campaign of harassment toward his family. For all we know she might still be working there, but probably won't be getting promoted anytime soon.

More tomorrow, of course....

Baseball analyst, former Mets GM Phillips fired by ESPN [ESPN]
ESPN fires Phillips after sex scandal [NY Post]
ESPN fires Steve Phillips after ex-Mets GM admits affair with production assistant Brooke Hundley [New York Daily News]

UPDATE: ESPN now says Hundley no longer works there, but did not say whether she was fired or quit. Also, Phllips has entered a "treatment facility," although I can't imagine what for. [Yahoo]

In football, as in life, things tend to equalize over the long run, with no hot streak going unpunished. That's why the house — after getting hammered by bettors with favorites all year — finally got even with the betting public last Sunday when favorites underachieved across the board. Four of the six teams favored by more than nine points failed to cover; two of them (the Eagles and Jets) lost straight up. Parity must be coming back. Yet going into Week 7, most NFL bettors are sill laying the wood with the heavy favorites, even on the road or in Europe, where anything goes.

This week, the heaviest action lies once again with the two biggest favorites: Indianapolis (at 95 percent) and New England (at 92 percent), giving -13 and -15.5, respectively. But neither team is playing at home — the Patriots are in London — which undermines that old saw about large road favorites being a terrible play. Over the last 107 games in which the road team has been favored by at least a touchdown, the favorite has covered only 38 times — a winning percentage of 37 percent.

Only the worst teams provide exception to this rule.

After all, what does "home-field advantage" really amount to for a team like the Rams? When the bulk of crowd noise is coming from the enemy camp, it amounts to a nice advantage for the visiting team. Rams lineman Richie Incognito argued this point last year when he questioned his hometown fans' passion and general football aptitude following a bad loss to the Bears: "They don't know how to cheer, when to cheer. We get the other team's fans coming in, and they cheer real nice for us. It provides for a good football atmosphere having the Chicago fans down here." Demoralizing as the scenario is for players, it's typical of traveling fans of popular "public" teams — like the Chicago Bears, Dallas Cowboys and Ohio State Buckeyes — to outnumber the hometown crowd in football voids like St. Louis.

And limp football crowds have a bigger impact on the spread than people realize.

An expert told Chad Milliman, ESPN's Behind the Bets columnist that "one factor when determining how much the fans traveling goes into the spread is when public teams are playing in small market venues. That's when they're more likely to fill seats, especially when those home teams are having down years."

The Rams, on their sixth consecutive down year, are 4-12 ATS in their last 16 games as a 'dog in the foe-filled Edward Jones Done. Making matters worse, the Colts are 9-3 ATS the last 12 road games against NFC opponents — and their fans travel well.

Bad Beats: Readers Share Their Tales Of Woe

That I can remember this so vividly nearly five years later is testament to how painful this was, especially considering the massive quantities of alcohol I ingested to try to forget it.

It was December 4, 2004, and I was in my first semester of law school. Law school was stressful enough with our first exams only days away, but added to that was the stress of the holidays coming up and my student loan check from August running out. My check for next semester wasn't going to show up for at least another month, and I was flat broke. Out in the real world before law school I had gotten used to getting paid twice a month, and to go from that to getting one giant check every few months wreaked havoc on my already lousy skills of budgeting. Rent was due Jan. 2, and I didn't have it. Nor did I have money for the power bill, the cell phone bill, or my next credit card payment. I was FUCKED.

In October of 2004, a friend introduced me to the magical world of online sports betting. I deposited something like $50, and then went on an unimaginable hot streak. Everything I touched turned to gold. Eventually I had over a grand in my account, from an original $50. I never worried about my finances, because I figured that at any time I could cash out my online betting account and be sitting pretty. Well, supreme overconfidence, greed and whiskey conspired to make me lose over a thousand dollars on the NFL over one awful Thanksgiving weekend. It was a moronic rookie mistake. I saw how much money I had, I couldn't lose, so why not swing for the fences?? So I went big on one game. And lost horribly. Then I panicked because I just lost half my bankroll, and frantically tried to make it back. I ended up in quicksand on one of the most hellacious losing streaks I've ever known to this day. In one weekend, I lost it all but about $20.

I was beyond devastated. To make it worse, I got my first overdraft notice from my checking account in the mail. After several days of very dark thoughts, I gathered myself. And on Friday morning Dec. 3, instead of studying for exams, I ground out a list of pro and college football and basketball games that I liked. I picked my favorite ten wagers, on games taking place Friday night or Saturday morning, said a prayer and put down $10 on a ten-team parlay. $10 to win over $7,000. Having lost probably ten bets in a row, I wasn't optimistic. Just desperate.

After the Friday night NBA games, I was a miraculous 7 for 7. SEVEN FOR SEVEN. It was unreal. I had to get hammered just to sleep that night. Then Saturday morning, Pittsburgh slaughters South Florida in football to easily cover. EIGHT FOR EIGHT. I am losing my fucking mind at this point, hyperventilating and getting dizzy. SEVEN. THOUSAND. DOLLARS. That's me paying off my entire credit card balance, paying off each and every bill including rent for a few months, buying my family some sweet Christmas presents and not thinking about money again until next fall.

Last two games are college basketball. I've got UNC -10 over Kentucky, and Wake Forest -18 over Richmond. UNC is the early game, and HOLY SHIT they cover by the skin of their teeth. I'm getting chest pains. I AM NINE FOR NINE WITH ONE GAME BETWEEN ME AND $7,000. It's all on Wake Forest, who is now comfortably ahead of Richmond, always hovering around a 20 point lead.

Well, obviously Wake Forest doesn't cover. But oh, it's HOW they didn't cover that was so perfect. Wake Forest is up by 22 with a little over a minute and a half left. But then the scrubs start to file in, and the turnovers start piling up. These assholes begin a turnover festival that took years off my life. We're under 30 seconds left, Wake Forest grabs a defensive rebound with an 18 point lead. 18 is a push. That won't get me $7000 BUT I WILL FUCKING TAKE IT. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS GET THE BALL OVER THE TIMELINE AND DRIBBLE OUT THE FUCKING CLOCK YOU SCRUB MOTHERFUCKERS. But of course that doesn't happen. Wake Forest turns the ball over. Then Wake commits a foul. Richmond is in the double bonus. Some cocksucker on Richmond steps up to the line with TWO SECONDS LEFT IN THE GAME. He clanks the first one just because, fuck me, right Universe? Then he makes the second. Game over, Wake wins by 17, does not cover. Ten team parlay lost. $7,000 down to $0.

I woke up on my living room floor the next morning after drinking a life-threatening amount. Apparently my roommate had people over that night and they just stepped over my lifeless corpse.

I ended up taking out a high-interest "emergency" student loan from Citibank, which I'm still getting raped on to this day. Surprisingly, I did not shoot myself, but I did do terrible on my exams. (J.S.)

This isn't mine in that I didn't make the bet, but I did take it, sort of.

A friend of mine in college (this was at Ohio State) was a bookie, and on Saturday mornings it was a madhouse at his apartment, where I usually was watching pregame, drinking, and getting high. I often answered the phone when the caller ID (this was before cell phones) was someone I knew better than him. So, one morning I answer it and it's a kid I know who's a lazy, loud mouth, Irish drunk. He asks me what the Indy line is. Thinking he's referring to Indiana, I tell him. He tells it to someone in the background, hems and haws, and then says to put him down for $50.

Games are played. Indiana gets crushed by god knows who, but this kid calls the same apartment later to try to collect on his bet. I'm baffled. He's indignant. Turns out he wanted to bet on Notre Dame, who had just pulled off an upset of some kind (no idea who – sorry). I told him he was fucked, but consulted everyone in the room anyway, explaining the confusion, and they backed me up, so he was still fucked. The verdict: no one EVER says ND for Notre Dame. Ever. This is like saying DU for Duke. (Tom R.)

My first trip to Las Vegas, March 1999. Had no idea how to bet sports, which of course did not constrain me in the least. I bet a 5-game NBA parlay, stood to pay off $2200 on a pretty small bet. First 4 games hit. The last: Clippers +10 at home against the Trail Blazers. Clips winning the whole game, up 12 at the beginning of the 4th and up 8-10 most of the last quarter. I'm already spending the $2Gs, when all of the sudden the Blazers make a furious run, tying the game on a Damon Stoudamire bucket with :01 left. No worries, I think—not even the Clips can lose by 10 in OT. And yet, there go the Blazers, sprinting out to a comfortable lead. Garbage time. As the clock winds down, Blazers up 8 with the seconds ticking down, Clips have the ball, I'm still feeling OK. Then a Clipper launches a shot that is as unsuccessful as it is irrelevant, rebounded by the Blazers' Kelvin Cato with :01 left. Cato is then quickly FOULED by Lorenzen Wright, who evidently thought there was still a chance to tie on a half-second 8-point full court shot if Cato missed. But still no problem, right—Kelvin Cato's a 50% free throw shooter, 0-2 already on the night, as I recall. Of course, he promptly sinks both free throws. Blazers win by 10. Unbelievable.

Here's where the novice better part comes in. I'm so disgusted I walk out of the TI, rip up my ticket, and toss it into the lagoon. Only to be told that, if a game in a parlay pushes, they'll take that game off and pay the rest. In other words, I ripped up a perfectly good 4-game parlay worth $1500 or so.

I have to think that that is the worst NBA gambling beat ever. (Eric in Cincinnati)

Share your bad beat with the world. E-mail us at tips@deadspin.com. Subject: Bad beats.

Sacrilegious Prop Bet Of The Week: White Smoke Edition



Via Paddy Power:

The betting for who will succed Pope Benedict XVI is hotting up following reports that the 82-year-old was taken to hospital after suffering a fall on holiday in the Alps. The Vatican may well be watching this space!

"Who Will Be The Next Pope?"

Francis Arinze (Nigeria) 5/1
Cardinal Angelo Scola (Venice) 7/1
Cardinal Oscar Rodriguez Maradiaga (Honduras) 7/1
Cardinal Angelo Bagnasco (Italy) 8/1
Jorge Mario Bergoglio (Argentina) 9/1
Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone (Italy) 10/1
Count Christoph von Schoenborn (Austria) 10/1
Dionigi Tettamanzi (Italy) 10/1
Archbishop Piero Marini (Italy) 12/1
Cardinal Francisco Javier Errazuriz Ossa (Chile) 14/1
Claudio Hummes (Brazil) 14/1
Cardinal Marc Ouellet (Canada) 18/1
Daniel DiNardo (Galveston-Houston) 18/1
Cardinal Renato Martino (Italy) 20/1
Cardinal Ruini (Italy) 20/1
Cardinal Karl Lehmann (Germany) 20/1
Wilfred Napier (South Africa) 20/1
Norberto Rivera Carrera (Mexico) 20/1
Jose Da Cruz Policar (Portugal) 20/1
JaimeLucas Ortega y Alamino (Cuba) 20/1
Attilio Cardinal Nicora (Roman Curia) 20/1
Angelo Sodano (Italy) 25/1
Antonio María Rouco Varela (Spain) 33/1
Cardinal Sean Brady (Ireland) 33/1
Philippe Barbarin (France) 33/1
Cormac Murphy-O'Connor (UK) 40/1
Giacomo Biffi (Italy) 40/1
Giovanni Battista Re (Italy) 40/1
Lopez Rodriguez (Dominican Republic) 50/1
Timothy Dolan (USA) 50/1
Cardinal Dario Castrillion Hoyos (Colombia) 50/1
Geraldo Majella Agnelo (Brazil) 50/1
Keith O Brien (Scotland) 50/1
Cardinal Odilo Scherer (Sao Paulo) 50/1
Godfried Danneels (Belgium) 66/1
Cardinal George Pell (Australia) 66/1
Diarmuid Martin 66/1
Cardinal Walter Kasper (Germany) 66/1
Francis George (USA) 80/1
Cardinal Amigo Vallejo (Spain) 80/1
Cardinal Carlo Maria Matini (Italy) 100/1
Silvano Piovanelli (Italy) 125/1
Father Dougal Maguire (Craggy Island) 1000/1
Bono (Ireland) 1000/1

Salisbury filed in the improbably named Denton County, where he lives. Gawker Media has not yet been served. Danny Gallagher reports:

Sean Salisbury, a Frisco resident and former National Football League quarterback, filed a petition for a civil defamation lawsuit in a Denton County court against Gawker Media for publishing several false stories on their sports blog Deadspin.com that cost him several jobs, ruined his reputation and made it difficult to find gainful employment.

Salisbury's attorney, Jeffrey Tillotson of the Dallas law firm Lynn, Tillotson, Pinker & Cox, said in the petition that Deadspin has waged a "long-running smear campaign" against his client since January of 2007.

The blog first alleged on Jan. 6, 2007 that ESPN suspended Salisbury for taking indecent photos of himself with his cell phone and showing it to several female co-workers. The post quoted a story written by CBS Sportsline columnist Mike Freeman on Dec. 27, 2006 who did not identify the analyst by name. The post also quoted The Big Lead, another sports blog, who identified Salisbury as the suspended analyst based on information from an "insider."

Tillotson said Deadspin continued to post the "lie" on four separate occasions including in posts on Sept. 11 following Salisbury's departure from 105.3 FM The Fan, a Dallas sports radio station.

"Deadspin falsely stated, 'According to one source close to the station, Salisbury freaked out a station promo girl after sexting her," the petition read.

The blog also provided a link to a Dallas Observer blog, Richie Whitt's Sportatorium, that said in an "update" post regarding Salisbury's departure that "sexting wasn't involved."

Tillotson said Deadspin continued to publish the story as part of their "smear campaign" against Salisbury.

"Unburdened by the truth or any pretense of journalistic standards, Deadspin ignored the facts and instead repeated the malicious lie that Mr. Salisbury 'allegedly' engaged in 'sexting,' which prompting his firing," the petition read. "In the weeks since Mr. Salisbury's departure from The Fan, Deadspin has continued to taunt Mr. Salisbury in emails from Deadspin contributors and has even mockingly asked Mr. Salisbury why he has not filed suit. Deadspin now has its answer."

[...]

"What we hope to prove is that blog sites like Deadspin are accountable," he said. "They can't simply attack someone and make a concerted effort to destroy the lives and careers of people without any ramifications. The difference between other news outlets and Deadspin is at least the other news outlets try to get it right. We hope to make a statement that if sites are going to behave like this, there are consequences and they are long overdue for that."

I haven't seen the petition, and as far as I know neither has anyone at Gawker. Denton County's web site has a record of the filing and nothing else. We'll have more on this next week, I'd imagine.

Former ESPN, radio sports analyst files lawsuit against Gawker Media in Denton County [Frisco Enterprise]

Today's story is from Alan Siegel, who was a sportswriter at The Eagle-Tribune in Lawrence, Mass., from 2005 to 2009.

In my four years at a suburban Boston paper, nothing made me feel smaller than covering the Red Sox. For 20 or so games a year, I parachuted in and tried to collect enough material for a column and a notebook. To the players, I was a gnat: barely noticeable and easily swatted away.

But being insignificant had its advantages.

While the big boys from the Globe and Herald rushed upstairs to the press box to file pregame updates, I usually was able to hang around the clubhouse until the access period ended. Sometimes, I caught somebody for a quick interview. On this afternoon in early April 2008, I was shit out of luck.

The Yankees were in town and players were scarce, save for a few pitchers sitting on the black leather couches assembled in the middle of the room. Manny Delcarmen was one, Clay Buchholz was another. Jonathan Papelbon, in practice gear, was around too, fiddling with the DVD player hooked up to a nearby flat-screen television. He was up to something, I could tell. When he popped in a disc he made a Bill Murray face. (If you've seen Papelbon's mound stare downs, you know it probably isn't easy for him to be deadpan.)

Curt Schilling once said of Papelbon in Sports Illustrated, "He's not exactly a charter member of Mensa," and many baseball fans would probably agree with the assessment. I prefer the characterization provided by Esquire's Chris Jones, who recently wrote, "Papelbon's not stupid. He just hasn't acquired professional mechanisms, an understanding of consequence: He says all the dumb things most of us probably think but keep back."

In other words, he's 16. So it shouldn't have surprised me when I noticed the Hustler Video logo pop up on the TV. It did, though. I figured I was seeing things. The title screen appeared. It looked like an SI swimsuit edition video, with lettering similar to the magazine's masthead. Oh, I though. Bikinis. This won't be too weird. Then the actresses came on screen.

Literally.

What I saw that day defied physics. It was fantastically filthy. From where I was standing, about 10 feet away, it looked like an open fire hydrant. In retrospect, I should've known. There's a reason they named the movie Squirts Illustrated.

(Can you imagine Papelbon asking a clubbie to make a porno run? Yeah, I need three tins of Skoal mint and the widescreen edition of Squirts Illustrated. Here's 100 bucks.)

It hadn't been on for more than a minute or two when, in a serendipitous moment, Theo Epstein and Terry Francona stepped out of the manager's office — just in time to catch their teenage reliever pulling a stunt Steve Stifler would've enjoyed. Francona managed a half smile. Epstein glowered. Sadly, I don't remember exactly what happened next. I don't know if someone pressed the stop button, or if Papelbon was scolded. I do remember that none of his teammates was laughing, which suggested to me that maybe this had happened before. And I remember, too, that the 10 or so reporters left in the clubhouse –- all male, at that point -– remained silent, as if watching video of a bursting human water main was the most normal thing in the world.

Finally, a writer, one of the nicest guys on the beat, smiled and shook his head. He'd clearly seen this act before, or at least some variation on it. He turned to the other scribes. "I'm out of here," he said, and we followed his lead.

Again, any sports journalist out there with a story to tell — print, online, broadcast — should send it along to darkside@deadspin.com. You know you've got a million of them.

The Washington Times ran a story this week about something called the "Sports Fans Coalition," a newly formed lobbying group that says it will give sports fans "a seat at the table" in Washington D.C. But according to the story, the group is actually a front for satellite companies that want to enrich themselves at the expense of cable companies. The story includes a rather damning quote from a "lobbyist watchdog."

"It seems like a classic front group," Melanie Sloan, executive director of Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington told the Times. "Their whole point is to get away with something and fool people into making them think they care about sports. It's the product of lobbyists."

Yes, it is the product of lobbyists. Unfortunately, so is this story. It was fed, almost word-for-word, to the Washington Times—as well as several other sports blogs and media outlets, including Deadpsin—by a PR firm that works for (surprise!) the cable industry.

* * * * *

Let's back up a bit: Cable companies, satellite companies, and TV networks are often feuding over who gets to air what channels and on what terms. Complicating the matter is that some cable companies also own their own TV networks, and in some instances they even own the sports teams whose games appear on those networks. For example, Versus (which is owned by Comcast, a cable company) was recently dropped from DirectTV (a satellite company) in a dispute over the fee that Versus was charging to carry the network. Direct TV says they are being overcharged by a greedy competitor. Comcast says that DirectTV doesn't care about sports and urged viewers to switch providers. (To Comcast, naturally.)

As you may have heard, Comcast is currently in talks to purchase NBC Universal from General Electric. That would give them control of a lot more TV channels that are a lot more popular than Versus. Obviously, that concerns the competition a great deal. So that leads to this email, which I got last week:

Hey Dashiel,

I have some juicy information I want to leak anonymously to either Gawker or Deadspin about an upcoming battle between satellite and cable companies over sports programming. I was hoping to leak some documents to you. Can you tell me which editor at Gawker/Deadspin would be best to approach about this, and could they guarantee my anonymity?

After I promised him anonymity, he found me on Instant Messenger:

The Mole: cool, just wanted to let you know that i have the email prepared for you, it's just that there is some internal struggle right now because there is some PR flak who is trying to give this to ESPN, but i'm arguing that we should give it to you
Dashspin: can you give me some idea of what it concerns?
The Mole: if i give you the nut graph can you hold off on reporting anything until i get the green light to send you the whole email? this way you can at least get a feel whether it fits for you
Dashspin: yeah. i wouldn't publish anything until i had some evidence
The Mole: we have evidence

Sounds very juicy, right? What followed was a email explanation of the story and a link to a "confidential" PowerPoint presentation that had been accidentally posted on the web. Not really leaked, so much as it was "found." (You can see the whole thing here:)

Below is the main gist of the information we have, though I do have more if you need it. You and Nick Denton are the only two people I've approached about this, so please let me know if you think you're able to use it.

We've gotten wind of a new "sports fan" coalition that we expect to be launched sometime this fall. The short version here is that some former satellite industry execs have put up the backing for a coalition that would essentially be anti-cable on the issue of sports programming access. It's going to pretend to be a grass roots organization but in reality it's corporate astroturf to keep fans from getting their games.

There was more to the email, but we'll get back to that. I looked over the presentation and realized it was basically a business plan for a non-profit group. Since the group didn't even have a website up yet, it seemed a little early to be blasting them. Plus, the stated primary goals of SFC seemed reasonable: Lobby Congress for a) no blackout rules for teams that play in publicly funded stadiums, b) a college football playoff and c) "Sports fans must be able to view their local sporting events via television or the internet, regardless of the their service provide." That's the kicker—a direct shot at cable companies.

I wasn't much interested in that part, but I thought it was amusing that the SFC document was leaked because they tried to have an internet contest for people to design them a logo. (Some of which were pretty silly looking.) So I figured I'd make fun of that in a Deadspin-y way and move on. I told the "source."

Dashspin: fyi, i'll have a post up about this a little bit later
The Mole: excellent
The Mole: once your post is up we're going to push it out to other bloggers to try to get them to link to it
Dashspin: ok, thanks
Dashspin: i'm not sure if there's anything to it yet, but it's worth pointing out to people
The Mole: definitely, and you're going to burst their PR bubble. they'll certainly be surprised

That's when I got a little more suspicious. The source seemed a little too interested in embarrassing these guys, as opposed to just protecting sports fans. So I dug around and eventually got an email address for David Goodfriend, the man listed as the chairman of the SFC and a former lobbyist for Dish Network. (Hence the villain of this story.)

Eventually, I spoke to Goodfriend on the phone and he was not willing to go on the record, because the group has not actually launched yet. However, he is a former satellite executive, but was also a staffer at the FCC and has worked in telecommunications lobbying circles for years. The gist of what he did tell me—which did end up in the Washington Times story—is that satellite companies listed in the presentation were merely "target companies" for funding. They had not actually agreed to give him anything yet, and they were picked mostly because those are the people he knows and has business contacts with. He explained that he would not give the companies control, but would gladly take their money.

He also stated that I was not the first person to contact him that day, which was unusual, because he had not gone public yet. He suspected that the cable companies were out to get him. He seemed to relish the idea that he was now a target, because that meant they were worried about him. It made him sound like a bit of a conspiracy theory nut ... except he turned out to be right.

* * * * *

After talking with Goodfriend, I realized that something else was going on here, but it was Friday afternoon, the boss was in Vegas and I wasn't much interested in figuring it out just then. I emailed The Mole again:

Change of plans. I won't be doing a story today. Maybe next week. Do you have any more information on this or are you only basing it on the powerpoint presentation?

He immediately IM'd me:

The Mole: i have more information than what was in the powerpoint
The Mole: not sure how much longer it's going to be exclusive though
Dashspin: well, the powerpoint is available to anyone. and on its own is not that damning.
The Mole: we have a document full of background research

He sent me another email, which was basically just a summary of the PowerPoint presentation. No independent research that I could see.

The Mole: sent, this is all info that was compiled before we knew of the powerpoint's existence, which i just found out about yesterday
Dashspin: ok. but i don't see anything in there that's not in the powerpoint.

So now it was time to put the cards on the table:

Dashspin: do you work for one of these companies?
The Mole: i work for a pr firm that works for the cable industry
The Mole: this is all the info i currently have; it's about an issue about a future battle over an issue that's a hot topic: the cost and access to being able to watch sports programming
Dashspin: and these are the guys you'll be battling with
The Mole: pretty much
The Mole: especially with the comcast/nbc deal
Dashspin: well, to be honest, i don't see any reason to think that they're bankrolled by some power broker. and even if they are, i'm not really interested in fighting your pr battle for you.
The Mole: ok, fair enough

I let it go, but the incident did bother me. A industry flack complaining about sports fans being manipulated, by trying to manipulate me into taking down his competitor? Who's really laying down the Astroturf here? Later, The Mole sent me the Times story that he obviously helped orchestrate. (I'm assuming he wanted to point out that I missed my "exclusive.") Then I saw this angry post from the blog Rumors and Rants that basically repeated everything that I (and they) had been fed by the PR person. Here's part of their post:

Obviously the satellite industry is no angel on this issue, having executed a long term exclusive deal with the NFL for its Sunday Ticket package. For years cable customers (like me) have been frustrated with their inability to access that package without having to switch to satellite TV full-time. To be fair, I would probably switch to satellite if they could ever figure out a way for me to be able to actually watch TV when it's freaking raining outside.

This year, when the NFL is blacking out millions of fans for their local game because the stadium isn't selling out due to a massive recession, the only way to get access is through DirecTV. DirecTV is complicit with the NFL in robbing sports fans of their locally televised games, but rather than try to fix the problem or do the right thing, they're going to attempt to drive fans' anger toward their cable competitors.

That's presented as the writer's own words, not a quote from their "source." Now here's part of the original email from The Mole that I left out:

The satellite industry is no angel on this issue, having executed a long term exclusive deal with the NFL for its Sunday Ticket package. For years cable customers have been frustrated by their inability to access this package without having to switch providers. This year, when the NFL is blacking out millions of fans from their local game because the stadium isn't selling out in a recession, the only way to get access is through DirecTV. DirecTV is complicit with the NFL in robbing sports fans of their locally televised games, but now they'll attempt to drive fans' anger toward their cable competitors.

Here's another quote from the Times story, written by Tim Lemke:

But in the early going, the coalition would be funded exclusively with corporate money, leading watchdogs to question whether the group will avoid being influenced.

"The reason a corporation would sign on is because it likes the message," Ms. Sloan said. "They would have to be sold on it."

Except no corporation has agreed to it yet. There's no way to know if a satellite company likes that agenda, because they haven't donated yet. But that's the cable company spin and Lemke gladly repeated it. He didn't take Goodfriend—an on-the-record source—at his word, but repeated cable industry talking points with no evidence to support them. This is how your news gets made.

* * * * *

So is the Sports Fan Coalition legit? Who the hell knows? They haven't done anything. Technically, it doesn't even exist. But to assume that they are shady just because a cable company PR person tells you they are, is the height of gullibility.

Maybe Goodfriend is full of it and I'm the one who got snowed. Maybe the SFC is completely in the pockets of Direct TV. That doesn't suddenly make a Comcast/NBC merger a good idea. Why is it okay to stop satellite companies from hurting cable, but not the other way around? Open access and net neutrality are complicated issues with few right or wrong answers—I asked my source for more explanation, but he has curiously gone silent—but just because one side makes money and the other doesn't, that doesn't automatically make it a bad thing for you, the consumer, or the fan. The point is to ask the right questions and always, always, always consider the source.

It's easy to get seduced by a source offering you an important exclusive. I almost was. The Rumors and Rants post ends with the ominous warning: "don't believe anything coming from the Sports Fan Coalition." I'd say the same thing about anonymous PR people.

EXCLUSIVE: Satellite TV to use sports fans to fight cable [Washington Times]
Satellite TV Companies To Lobby On Their Own Behalf By Using Fans [Rumors and Rants]

* * * * *
UPDATES
We've received some responses from people mentioned in this post. First, Tim Lemke, who wrote the Washington Times piece:

Not sure I agree with your assumptions as to where I got the documents or how I reached my conclusions. Based on your post, I don't think we talked to the same people. I had my eyes open to cable's possible interest in this from the start...that doesn't make it a non-story. The documents speak for themselves, no matter who gave them to me and why.

I've been a reporter in Washington for 10 years and it's par for the course for these groups with seemingly innocuous names to pop up, only no one ever realizes there are industries behind them. The Global Climate Coaltion? Funded largely by the oil and coal industry. Americans for Medical Progress? Pharmaceutical industry.

It's our job as reporters to point out when this kind of thing occurs.

As for the NFL Sunday Ticket question, which is a valid one, I asked Goodfriend specifically about that, wondering how he could possibly be against exclusivity when DirecTV has that arrangement with the NFL. He said it's not the same issue, because the Sunday Ticket deal was open to all bidders and DirecTV simply won out.

Maybe Goodfriend hasn't gotten any money from anyone yet. Maybe it will turn out to be totally grassroots funded, in which case I don't see why anyone should object to it. But f he's soliciting money from a specific group of companies that would benefit from his platform, that's a story.

Best,
-Tim

P.S. I know you're just trying to keep everyone honest here. As a Philly native, any blog run by AJ Daulerio will always be a favorite of mine.

Philly? Told you he was biased! Anyway, thanks to Tim for his polite response. (More than I deserved, probably.) It is about keeping people honest.

Finally, SFC Chairman David Goodfriend tried to leave this in comments, but I'm including here, because of Nibbles:

Yes, folks, I'm a Washington lawyer/lobbyist. And, yes, I was an executive with DISH Network for many years. I also worked in the Clinton White House, Congress, and the FCC.

A while ago, a congressional staffer called me and asked, "Dave, who is someone we can invite as a witness to testify on behalf of sports fans at our hearing?" I couldn't think of anyone. There certainly are enough public policy issues for fans to get involved with— ticket prices at publicly funded stadiums, game blackouts, etc, and there already are federal laws on the books governing the sports industry (or protecting it, depending on your view).

I did some digging around and realized that there really is no single advocacy/lobbying group in DC representing the interests of sports fans. Certainly nothing well funded and methodical.

But I knew from my time in the satellite industry that there are tons of lobbyists for professional sports leagues, the NCAA, sports programmers, and big distribution companies.

I also knew from working for DISH Network that a lot of times, the gripes of sports fans are shared by some pretty big companies who get shut out of programming deals.

So I asked a simple question: why not start a new non-profit advocacy group for sports fans? But instead of making it some feeble shoe-string whimper, why not get some bucks from companies that feel just as shafted as the fans do? The key, I thought, was to make sure that any corporate donations did not result in any kind of real control by the donors. Take the money, but either they believe in the agenda or not—they don't get control.

That's when I put together the power point that the PR hacks found. It just laid out the idea. Here's the funny part about that article in the Washington Times: almost all the companies the reporter listed and that I approached with my pitch said, no! That includes my former employer, DISH Network. That includes DIRECTV, AT&T, and others. So far, I have ONE company that committed to help fund SFC. And one non-profit that will join. Maybe we'll get more, maybe not. (I have a great Board of Directors assembled, too.)

Yes, I'm going after corporate donations. So do most of the high-profile non-profits in DC. If I'm going up against some of the most powerful interests in the US, I want some big dogs in my corner. And when the website launches, you'll be able to see right there exactly who everyone is— total transparency. I'll even post the legal documents setting up the organization so you can see for yourself how it's set up. That's not astroturf. That's honesty.

Truth is, I always figured I'd get shot at by the Big Leagues and Big Cable, but I didn't realize they'd use a Howitzer on a seedling. Thanks to Dash, we all now know that it was cable PR hacks who planted that story with the Washington Times, trying to kill this thing before it even gets off the ground. I got e-mails and phone calls from big-time lawyers for the Leagues and Big Cable trying to talk me out of this. All of which has just made me want to launch the Sports Fans Coalition even more.

So stay tuned, sports fans. Hopefully we'll be able to launch the website within a few weeks. Hopefully tons of fans will join the coaltion. If they do, we'll mount a real advocacy campaign for fans in DC. And if they don't, well... I get to watch a lot more sports this winter.

It's usually because they're just so absurd or really lack even the most tenuous of news angles to give them the go-ahead. Other times it's because they're just absolute horseshit. But every Friday until we get sick of running them, we'll present to you some of these not-so-shiny gems. All items should be treated as [Sic'd]. Enjoy...

Searching For Erin Andrews But Ended Up With Brooke Hundley

Hey Guys,

My buddy and I were at All Star Weekend, and I guess today he looked back at them and found a pic of Brooke Hundley in the background of and Erin Andrews photo he took. (PS my friend and I told her we loved her and she said Aw, thanks ... great person!)

Anyway, I was crazy picture happy that weekend so I took a look back at mine and among them are some gems. Including her essentially waiting outside the Baseball Tonight ropes for a good 20 minutes waiting for him. Anywho the ones here are her staring and waiting for him just as he's about to leave, and them walking out together.

As you can see from the outfits, it is the same exact night the NY Post photo was run.

Enjoy,
Greg

This Man Has A Few Things To Get Off Hist Chest:

Subject: You're An Asshole

What you did today was childish and seriously damaged an innocent woman's quality of life because ESPN didn't hand you a scoop on a silver player. It reflects terribly on everyone with a sports blog. Fuck you. You're a piece of shit.

-Brian Cook

And More Complaints From The Vocal Minority

•

Dude, you gotta reign it in. I enjoy reading rumor/gossip as much as the next guy but what you're doing is really fucked up. Outing anonymous sources, ruining careers and families based on nothing more than uncorroborated rumors. I'm not saying the stuff you're printing isn't true — it probably is — but this is not a crusade worth fighting. I urge you to hesitate before posting another of these. Just think about what you're doing.

Have you no shame, Mr. Daulerio?

•

I'm sending a copy of this email to both AJ Daulerio and Nick Denton. Maybe it will go unread by both for various reasons. Maybe I am only saying something that has been heard before.

Blogs have been fighting for respectability among other media for years, and I feel you crossed the line yesterday, AJ. I've been a reader of Deadspin for years, and I used to consider Deadspin to be a trustworthy and reliable source of sports information. I think it can be argued that Deadspin has been going downhill for a while, but if it hadn't jumped the shark before, it did yesterday with the "ESPN Horndog Dossier." You openly admitted at the beginning of the dossier that you would be posting tips about ESPN scandals you had gathered for months, maybe years, yet hadn't published. You have no credible source on the stories for Kuselias, Lacey, or "importing" girls, yet you put them up anyway with reckless disregard for journalistic ethics. It shouldn't even matter whether the stories are true or not, because you have no way to know that they're true. If I sent in an anonymous email, saying that I saw Mike Greenberg slap a girl on the ass and make out with a woman who was not his wife, would that get me published on Deadspin? Congratulations on turning a once reputable blog into TMZ. I hope the spike in hits you got yesterday was worth the price of the site's integrity.

I can see how much you care about posting credible news when you say, "And since the tenuous connection between rumor and fact for accuracy's sake has been a little eroded here, well, it's probably about time to just unload the inbox of all the sordid rumors we've received over the years about various ESPN employees." Yeah, just unload any unverifiable rumor you have, smear someone's reputation, throw lots of crap against the wall and see what sticks.

I would be curious to know if Mr. Denton condones this kind of editorial work on his family of blogs. You might even have a legal issue on your hands if ESPN chooses to pursue defamation charges. Even if they don't, even if everything posted was true, posting malicious rumors as fact is reckless and sets the credibility of Deadspin, Gawker, and other blogs back years. I don't need a response to this email. I just wanted to let Deadspin and Gawker Media know what I think about the direction their product is going.

•

AJ, I like your site a lot. I read it everyday, multiple times a day. The recent posts about Steve Phillips, ESPN employees, etc. has been fascinating to say the least, but I just don't get it. What is your agenda? Are you guys doing this to "expose" the heinous acts of certain employees at ESPN or are you trying to post any sort of "National Enquirer" type material just to get more page views?

About 18 months ago, Will Leitch sat through Buzz Bissinger's assault on blogs. Bissinger said "with the Internet, there's too much information out there, and we've become a very mindless country. I don't know how else to say it: We really revel in ignorance and disinformation."

Was Bissinger right?

Jason
Secaucus, NJ

•

AJ- Not sure what you are trying to do here. Why out Kuselias and the executive, who noone has ever heard of? There are thousands of rumors coming out of there about more famous individuals at ESPN, I'm sure you've heard them all. So why go after these two? It seems kind of meanspirited, as these people have families and their statuses as public figures, especially the executive's, are tenuous at best.

Regards,

Scott

•

I work VERY hard at resisting the urge to post comments to blogs or news stories, and equally hard to avoid writing indignant emails, but your inexplicably unprofessional tirade filled with unsubstantiated rumors aimed at destroying individual reputations and lives begs for a reaction. Rarely has a more despicable, childish, cowardly rant seen the light of day, and it's beyond belief that a blog long holding itself out as the protector of the sports' fans' best interests could commit an act even the most vulgar tailgater would avoid in his worst drunken state.

You owe ESPN an apology, and you owe every person mentioned by name an apology. It wouldn't matter if everything you wrote turned out to be true; by your own admission you didn't know for sure when you wrote it——so you STILL owe the apologies!

It's likely SOME OF THEIR CHILDREN are reading those accusations you vomited forth in your blog! IF the stories turn out to be true, their lives are topsy-turvy enough; now, thanks to you, their agony is exponentially ballooned by the taunts of classmates and teammates; their added agony debits your decency account for a long, long time going forward.

Your mea culpa needs to be front page and intense; otherwise the only people reading you going forward will be the guys calling in to the shock jock sports shows you so disdain. For now, you've made those guys look like Mister Rogers.

Please Forward To Mr. Magbary

I used to love your blog, but with the influx of non-sports related bathroom humor, I have taken it off my RSS and bookmarks. I am doubtful most of your readers would want to read about such matters, especially when it has little to do with sports. It is not entertaining whatsoever. I love edgy humor as much as the next guy, but stories about bodily functions and fluids have no place on a sports blog.

Thanks For Your Support?

ESPN reporters has become a whiney liberal bunch of corp losers, the league has TOO many thugs from welfare projects RUINING the Sport.
The league has gotten pathetically politically correct and have ruined the sport for fans.
wondered too if you planned to nail ESPN for the lack of reporting on the LARGE number of gay and bi reporters (former FtBall Plyrs) and the Long held and Widely spread rumors about the CURRENT gay players in FtBall. Ex,,Rumors for YEARS about barry sanders being gay, Steve Young being Bi, Troy Akman being gay and Tom Brady Being so Gay they edited his commercial few yrs ago taking his voice out of his own commercial,

I liked reading your blog
jon

No, Thank You

Hi A.J.

Are you available to do an interview for Entertainment Tonight re: ESPN scandal this morning? We'd be happy to plug/mention anything you need.

I can send a crew to you or have you do the intv in our office-whatever works best for you.

Thanks,

Amy

And One More...Just For Good Measure

Not a daily visitor to your site, but loved what you guys did with ESPN today.

I worked for the New Jersey Nets and Devils out of college and the same shit went on there. What really resonated with me is how similar ESPN is all professional teams or sports-based businesses. One particular Marketing VP, Jason Siegel of Binghampton Athletics sexual harassment fame was the VP of Marketing when I worked for the Devils. And he was doing the same stuff there that he was accused for back in March. When that story broke, me and the guys I used to work with there all agreed it was the least surprising news of the year.

Anyway, many of the people I worked with moved on to work with other professional teams or in one case, the World Wide Leader.

This particular kid was your typical sports nerd. Nice enough guy, attractive enough to be seduced by an older married women (we'll get to that in a second) and would do anything his boss told him to do as long as he could tell people he worked for "XYZ Team" or ESPN. Well he was on the production crew responsible for covering the college world series in Omaha. I would probably say this occurred in the summer of '04 or '05. They're winding down the week and the whole crew decides to go out for drinks. A few hours later when everyone is well on their way, this guy catches the eye of a one Linda Cohn and they eventually sneak back to her hotel room...

On the ride there, Cohn couldn't keep her hands off of him and wouldn't stop saying how much she's been eying his all week and how she loves giving blowjobs. When they get back to the hotel room, she gets on her knees and says to him "I LOVE doing this!" before taking him all in.

I've never been able to look at her the same since.

Anyway, I'm sure you guys are getting tons of shit like this today. I'm obviously not going to give you names, nor do I have a way to verify this, nor do I really care. But go ahead and add this to the ESPN failure pile.

Glad I could help.

(Ed. Note: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)

(Ed. Note #2: The above story is a joke, if it wasn't clear already.)

Mike Shanahan is probably coming back to coach in the NFL in 2010. Stefan Fatsis says the former Denver coach has been preparing to return to the league by watching five hours of a tape a day (I assume he spends the rest of the day felling redwoods with that mouth of his). Wherever Shanahan ends up, if he ends up in your town, do me a big favor. You walk right up to that man and punch him right in the cock.

People have bitched for years that Shanahan is anecdotally responsible for popularizing running back committees. Well, six weeks deep into this NFL season, we have empirical proof. There are only, currently, five NFL running backs averaging over 20 carries per game: Adrian Peterson, Cedric Benson, Mike Bell (who figures to drop off this list shortly), Steven Jackson, and Michael Turner. Benson leads the league with 21.2 carries per game. Over the past decade, that's the lowest average number of carries needed to lead the league.

Since 2006, there has been a dramatic decrease in the number of running backs leaguewide who get fed the ball 20 times or more per game. Here is the number of 20-carry running backs in the league year-by-year over the past decade, with the league leading carry average highlighted:

1999: 9 backs (22.1 led the league)
2000: 8 backs (25.2 led)
2001: 8 backs (22.1 led)
2002: 7 backs (23.9 led)
2003: 13 backs (24.5 led)
2004: 12 backs (24.6 led)
2005: 11 backs (24.0 led)
2006: 9 backs (26.0 led)
2007: 4 backs (21.5 led)
2008: 4 backs (23.5 led)
2009: 5 backs (22.1 led)

So, since 2006, the number of backs who usually get more than 20 carries per game has been effectively sliced in half, the workhorse back being phased out for those delightful Marion Barber/Tashard Choice/Felix Jones platoons that make you want to dunk your head in a vat of fucking battery acid.

I don't begrudge coaches for doing this. There's more than enough evidence out there to show that running a single back 5,000 times in a single season doesn't do wonders for their durability. BUT… not all running backs are made equal. For example, Emmitt Smith ran for over 20 carries a game for seven of ten seasons during the 1990's, and that doesn't even include postseason appearances. Rotating running backs in and out of the game keeps them fresh, but it also may prevent them from getting into a rhythm. Great backs like Smith were famous for getting their biggest gains as the game wore on. The three and four yard gains they got in the first quarter often turned to six and seven yard gains in the fourth as they got a feel for the defense and knew how to exact the most damage upon them.

You don't see many running backs have games like that anymore, where they get 35 carries for 175 yards or something and completely OWN the fucking game. Games like that may take their toll on some backs. But sometimes there are anomalies like Smith, who remained an effective runner over the course of decade despite taking heaps of punishment. And, judging by his speaking skills, those hits have taken virtually NO TOLL on his mental facilities. None at all!

So quit pussyfooting around, NFL coaches. If you think you've got a potential workhorse back in your stable to thoroughly beat into the fucking ground, USE THEM. They're gonna get brain damage anyway! Come on! They're not pitchers. Don't treat them so goddamn gingerly. I'm sick of running backs being as statistically inconsistent as wide receivers. I don't wanna live in a world where people have to start Brandon Jacobs on their fantasy squad every week and then cross their fingers that he'll get more than eight goddamn carries.

The Games
All games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.

Five Throwgasms

Falcons at Cowboys: I'm a huge fan of the NFL Network's postgame show. They show nothing but highlights instead of talking, and Rich Eisen is so fucking awesome right now, I could kiss his head stubble. As they opened on footage of a kickoff return TD last week, Eisen said, "Now, why would we show you a kickoff? Either someone scored, or someone made a booboo." It's the little things.

BUT… as tolerable as I find Deion Sanders on this show, he deserves shit-giving last week for saying, and I paraphrase, that the Redskins woes are not Dan Snyder's fault, because Dan Snyder goes out and pays for "the best players". Now, I wonder why Deion might feel that way about Dan Snyder. Couldn't be the $8 million signing bonus Snyder gifted to that fucker at the end of his career. Oh, Deion. Just when I was starting to warm up to you. FUCK YOU, COCKBREATH.

Cardinals at Giants: Eli Manning is a complicated man. One second, he's angrily berating Ahmad Bradshaw on national TV for failing to pick up the blitz. The next…

He was met outside the locker room on his way to the team bus by his father Archie and mother Olivia. His mom hooked her arm through his and they walked off together.

Would it surprise you in the least if it turned out that Eli occasionally performed amateur taxidermy and stabbed drifters to death while sobbing? No, it would not. Such a quiet boy. Such a good boy. Those are always the ones.

By the way, any time I now meet someone named Olivia, I immediately picture her as a sassy talking pig-child. Best kids' books ever? Best kids' books ever. Even the author's name is cool.

Also, big ups to Arizona last week for pulling off the surprise pooch kickoff, the cooler version of the surprise onside kick. Surprise pooch kickoffs are fucking awesome.

Vikings at Steelers

Four Throwgasms

Saints at Dolphins: From the still hungover Matt Ufford comes Awful PR Quotes. Nice. It's like Access Hollywood in print form.

Bears at Bengals

Three Throwgasms

49ers at Texans: Your top scoring player in fantasy football after six weeks is Mr. Matt Schaub of the Texans. Mr. Ufford has Schaub and Tom Brady on his fantasy team. He never knows which one to start any given week, and he always ends up choosing wrong. And he's terrified that he'll end up trading the wrong one. This situation will henceforth be known as Uffy's Choice. If you see Ufford on the street, be sure to hug him. Maybe offer a free dry hump.

No matter how the Texans finish this season (8-8 ahoy!), they certainly are one of the league's most enjoyable teams to watch. Owen Daniels is a goddamn MONSTER.

Two Throwgasms

Pats at Bucs: And here's your London game for the year. Nice game. Honestly, why not just bomb these people?

I take this moment again to remind you college folks out there that, if you have the opportunity and parental means to spend a semester abroad, DO IT. Don't fucking question it. Don't hesitate for a fucking second. Get on that plane and go. The rest of the world loves getting drunk and fucking and getting naked in public even more than we do. IT'S TRUE! When you go to London, there are pictures of tits visible at any newsstand. People are drinking in the pubs at 9AM without a shred of guilt. Great Indian food is always within a ten-block radius. (Including fresh naan. Oh, naan. You are everything pita bread wishes it could be). It is a GLORIOUS place, and one day I will retire there and spend the rest of my life at the bottom of a pint glass, a copy of Mayfair tucked into my back pocket.

Eagles at Redskins: The intrepid Dan Steinberg (intrepid is always the word people use for reporters. I do not actually know what the word means) reports that Tony Kornheiser, freed from his pesky ethical obligations as a Washington Post employee, joined Redskins owner Dan Snyder in his luxury box during the loss to the Chiefs last Sunday. Would you have guessed – IN A MILLION YEARS – that Kornheiser and Snyder would watch a game together? Is that NOT A STUNNING HAPPENSTANCE? Anyway, TK says…

"But at the end of the half, there began a chant—Sell The Team. Sell The Team. Sell The Team.—that everybody in the box heard. The people in the box were stunned. I don't know that he heard it, because he wasn't there, but the people in the box were STUNNED."

Holy shit. Really? People in Snyder's box were actually surprised that fans were displeased with his stewardship of the fucking team? Have these people spent the past decade living in a fucking box? Are you NOT STUNNED THAT THEY ARE STUNNED?

One good thing Snyder has done? Sell beer in the stadium bathrooms. What once was an intimidating wait for the urinal trough is now a leisurely delight.

By the way, I'm really excited for the inevitable hosannas that Gruden and Jaws will be heaping on Jim Zorn during this telecast. Last year, as the Lions were wrapping up their 0-16 season, announcers practically fell over themselves to be nice to Rod Marinelli. Oh, poor Mr. Coach Man! He tried so hard! He's a good man! Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. Quit coddling these pricks, announcers. They make shitloads of money and get to boss around football players all day. They don't need a verbal rubdown from you every time they're about to see the axe swing.

Last thing about the Skins: New play caller Sherm Lewis doesn't know protection schemes and blitz pickups yet, so all his play calls will be routed through assistant coach Sherman Smith on their way to QB Jason Campbell. Hope you enjoy delay of game penalties, everyone.

As for the Eagles, at least once a year they have a game like last week where it appears as if McNabb and Reid are doing this whole football thing for the very first time. It's baffling. I know cooler heads will tell you that the Eagles are better off with those two around. But, as a fan, when your team, year in and year out, finds ways to DO THE SAME FUCKING STUPID SHIT THEY ALWAYS DO, you can't be blamed for eventually wanting to rid yourself of them entirely. At the very least, a new coach and QB would have the courtesy to fuck up in some new and different way. Maybe they'd RUN the ball too much. I'm sure Eagles fans would welcome such recklessness. Fourteen runs? Against Oakland? Holy Jesus.

One Throwgasm

Packers at Browns: Linda Hunt is back on television! Want better stamina in the sack? Picture Linda Hunt banging Anne Ramsey with a strap-on. Toss Poltergeist lady in there if you have to. THIS BONER IS CLEAR. Also a good boner killer: Meryl Streep in "Doubt". Ruins the whole kinky nun thing.

Chargers at Chiefs: My kid makes me watch lots of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse every day. I am now certain that Goofy hails from Kentucky. GORSH!

Jets at Raiders: Go, little pigeon! GO!

He's twice the receiver James Jett ever was!

Colts at Rams: Well, ESPN Horndog Day was fun, wasn't it? I have only one question in light of all this, and that's this: Who the fuck thinks "I would like to fuck you" ever works as a come on? Has that line EVER resulted in success? Has the woman ever taken that in and replied, "Oh hey, that sounds great!" Never works to try cutting the crap and propositioning a chick right off the bat. Especially if you're drunk at a bar. And perhaps a junior-level ad exec living in New York. TRUST ME.

We need to stage a phony press conference in honor of Steve Phillips. Rachel Nichols and Jeremy Schaap could be in attendance, and ask Phillips all sorts of important questions. Steve, what first attracted you to your mistress? Was it her BIG FUN t-shirt? Steve, isn't this yet another searing indictment of your personnel evaluation skills? Steve, seriously, why not just stick your dick in an overflowed toilet?

Out of respect for DJ Gallo, we will NOT be publishing all those emails we got about Gallo fucking the Syracuse Orange in the PJ Clarke's urinal.

Bills at Panthers

Pregame Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

"Abra Cadaver," by The Hives. DEAD! DEAD!!!!! THEY TRIED TO STICK A DEAD BODY INSIDE OF ME!!!!

Embarassing Discography I Own That Will Not Fire You Up

The entire Snow Patrol album catalog. I like Snow Patrol's music a lot, and I have no excuse for it. Liking them is barely a step removed from liking Coldplay. I know that. They have, arguably, the worst name in rock. It doesn't even sound like anything remotely resembling a band name. It sounds like a group of people who tow injured skiers to the chalet in one of those ski patrol sleds. I've always wanted to be carted around on one of those. If I were rich, I would travel exclusively by being ski-hauled.

Anyway, back to the band. They serve as the soundtrack to Grey's Anatomy, which gave the world Katherine Heigl. Their lead singer, Gary Lightbody, has a gay porn star name. The used to put environmental poetry on the splash page of their official site. They're lame in so many ways. In EVERY way.

And yet, I love some of their songs (like the one above). I can't help it! Don't you see? It's so pretty! Like a puppy wearing a Santa outfit! CAN'T RESIST… MUST… RESIST…

/switches over to Slayer record
//switches back to Snow Patrol when no one is looking

Open Mailbag Tuesdays
Got something you want displayed for show and tell in the Deadspin Tuesday Mailbag? Pork loin omelet recipe? Email me any question or observation you like.

Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
Darren McFadden. Awful. Horrible. And now out until at least Week 10. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. What's the matter, prick? Too busy making bastard kids to bother staying upright? YOU PIECE OF SHIT. I HOPE ALL OF YOUR BABY MOMMAS GIVE YOU THE HUNDLEY TREATMENT, HOUNDING YOU AND YOUR LOVED ONES FOREVER AND EVER UNTIL YOUR SPIRIT IS CRUSHED AND YOU LIVE OUT THE REST OF YOUR DAYS PRAYING FOR DEATH TO BE KIND AND SWIFT.

Suicide Pick Of The Week
Last week's suicide pick of Philadelphia was incorrect, making me 5-1 on the year. FUCKING ANDY REID. This is the time of year where I again remind you that joining suicide pools is a fucking idiotic endeavor and that you should spend that $20 on your cocaine slush fund instead. That puts the Eagles, Vikings, Texans, Ravens, Saints and Skins off the board now. We once again pick a team for your suicide pool and something that makes you WANT to commit suicide. This week's pick? Indianapolis, and Slate writer Jonah Weiner, who has now penned not one, but two different Slate pieces telling you that a nu metal band everyone knows is terrible really isn't that bad. First he tried to defend Limp Bizkit. Now he tries to do the same for Creed. Look at this sentence. FUCKING LOOK AT IT.

"Higher" might turn out to be the nu-grunge "Don't Stop Believing": dismissed by cognoscenti on arrival as bludgeoning and gauche but destined for rehabilitation down the road as a triumphant slab of ersatz inspirationalism.

Holy Jesus. It's like I'm reading Slate and Pitchfork together at once. Inspirationalism isn't even a fucking word. Only Slate could make the idea of liking Creed's music a pretentious endeavor. I hate that fucking band even more now. You go to Hell, Jonah Weiner. IF THAT IS YOUR REAL NAME.

Nazi Shark's Vegas Lock Of The Week
Lots of sports sites, to demonstrate the arbitrary nature of gambling, like to have animals like monkeys pick games to see if they can outwit their human counterparts. There's no reason we at Deadspin can't also get in on the fun. So we've asked National Socialist German Workers' Party member Rolf, who also happens to be a shark, to pick one game a week. Take it away, Nazi shark.

"This week, I like the Falcons getting 4 points on the road against the Cowboys. Hey, I had an article published by Slate once. It was titled, ‘The Third Reich: Hey, At Least The Trains Ran On Time.'"

2009 Nazi Shark Record: 5-1. People, time to start listening to the shark.

This Week's Pants Party Winner
Last week's Pants Party winner was PK's Mile High BM Club. Reader Alan F. gets free rant space here:

Quit bitching about Favre and your poor 6-0 team. I'd have the Lions field a team of 53 Matt Millen's if it meant not sucking for one goddamn year. And while you'll have to "suffer" through the Land Baron and his 105.9 QB rating, we Lions fans last had a Pro Bowl QB in 19-fucking-71. I was negative 8 years old. So piss off!

That's more than fair. I'll shut up about the Vikings now.

This week's winner was douchenozzle22, who already mailed in a rant. SO PUNCTUAL! It'll be in here next week.

Great Moments In Poop History
Another week, another HUGE payload of fantastic poop stories. This one comes to us from Landon L. I call it, "Sinky Dinky Doo":

A few years back, my little brother was fresh out of the army, newly married and was renting a little junk house. One bedroom, kitchen, living room and one bathroom that you had to go through the bedroom to get to. So my brother has a few friends over sitting around and getting drunk.

At some point, as everyone is leaving, it is decided that our friend, totally wasted, couldn't get home and needed to crash at my brother's place. No big deal. There's the couch, have at it.

Morning rolls around and my brother wakes to find our friend passed out in his own puke on the couch. My brother isn't happy, but apparently his wife hated the couch anyway, so he wakes my friend and tells him that they need to haul the couch to the dump. Not a big deal. On the way there, my friend will not stop apologizing to my brother. He is saying sorry so much, it becomes annoying. My brother keeps telling him he doesn't care about the damn couch. Finally, our buddy admits the puke on the couch is not the only issue. He took a shit in the kitchen sink.

BOOSH!

Apparently, in a drunken haze, needing to shit and not wanting to wake up my brother and his new wife, he decided that shitting in the kitchen sink made sense. So he climbed up on the counter and did it. It is hard to comprehend how someone would reach such a decision. Obviously the easiest thing to do would've been to go through the bedroom, wake up my brother and his wife, take the shit and be done with it. Or take a shit almost anywhere else. Outside, on the floor, in your pants. But he picks pretty much the worst place to shit, the kitchen sink.

Is it really the worst? At least there running water right there. I'd rather someone shit in the sink than on the carpet, or in the cookie jar, or in the veggie crisper.

Needless to say, my brother is pissed off. Unfortunately, there are also some dirty (now very dirty) dishes in the sink.

Look, Madge! I pooped in it!

The situation is so completely fucking weird and gross my brother doesn't even know how to address it. So he calls my dad.

That part killed me. "Hey Dad, you're old. Surely you've dealt with people shitting in the sink." That's like when I call my dad eight times every time I do my taxes.

Great conversation I'm sure. Anyways, it's decided that the dishes need to be thrown away, obviously. And the sink needs to be cleaned thoroughly several times. My brother drives our friend to the store so he can buy every bleach-based cleaning product available on the market. A long scrubbing, spraying, sanitizing of the sink ensues.

Finally, still ragingly pissed off. My brother decides that some additional inconvenience charge is in order. He demands $300 from our friend. With no precedent for the situation, our friend had little choice but to pay up.

I once had a friend who was a full-fledged alcoholic. The real deal. Drank every morning and all that. He stayed at our apartment once. In the middle of the night, my wife tripped over him on the way to using the bathroom. He had fallen asleep in the hall without his pants or undies on, and had pissed on the carpet.

I wish I had thought to charge him $300.

Fire This Asshole!
Is there anything more exciting than a coach losing his job? All year long, we'll keep track of which coaches will almost certainly get fired at year's end or sooner. And now, your updated chopping block:

Tom Cable
Jim Zorn*****
Eric Mangini
Jeff Fisher*
Wade Phillips
Dick Jauron*
Jack Del Rio*
Todd Haley
John Fox
Norv Turner
Raheem Morris

I don't think there's any chance Raheem Morris gets fired after this year, but so many angry Bucs fans demanded he be included on this list, I had little choice. Go to any Bucs message board, and your odds of finding missives from disgruntled Republican fans that compare Morris to Obama is 100%. THIS MAN IS BLACK AND LACKS EXPERIENCE!

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Waffle fries! Mmmm… waffle fries. So fried. So ridged. So crisscrossy. So good for ketchup retention. It's like a giant fucking ketchup net. I could squeeze out the entire Heinz bottle onto one of these fuckers.

Gametime Beer Of The Week
When I started the Jamboroo, this section was originally titled Cheap Beer of the Week. But I pretty much ran through every terrible cheap beer I could: Black Label, American, even the malt liquors. But reader Craig O. has come across a cheap beer I was unfamiliar with until now. That beer? Beer 30 Light.

Beer 30 light should be your game time beer of the week. Not only is it cheaper than that swine piss known as Natural Light, but the vibrant purple can perfectly match any Vikings apparel you choose to wear.

Agreed. What a fantastic cheap beer. Why is it called Beer 30? Why is there a clock on the can? "Thirty seconds are up. Time for another!" I also like how there's a mountain on the can, to trick you into thinking you're buying Busch or Coors Light. If you've got a mountain on your can, you are selling one god-awful beer.

Robert Evans' MVP Watch!
Time to start thinking about who the leaders are for the NFL's MVP award. So every week, legendary Hollywood producer Robert Evans will join us to give us his assessment. Take it away, Mr. Evans.

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's MVP this year is still Peyton Manning of the Colts! You know, this whole Balloon Boy business reminds me of the time Warren Beatty and I took Quaaludes and accompanied eight nude Swiss prostitutes on a hot air balloon ride across the Alps! That was a good day for Ol' Beatty and I. Champagne? YOU BET! Orgies in a large wicker basket? YOU KNOW IT! Beatty was right about those Swiss girls, they really do fuck like clockwork. Very precise."

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Rams Fans

"The Golden Child." Long regarded as one of Eddie Murphy's biggest flops, yet it now looks like the goddamn Godfather compared to his recent output. Plus it has bloody oatmeal. Can't go wrong with bloody oatmeal. TO MONTY!

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Isn't it amazing the same day you got a pool is the same day we realized we liked you?"

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Continuing the Golden Child theme: nude screengrabs of star Charlotte Lewis. (Site NSFW) Charlotte is half-Irish, and half Iraqi-Chilean. She could practically declare war on herself.
-For the gals: Sean Faris. RAWR.

Enjoy the games, everyone.

One former ESPN employee, joyful at the great cleansing that is taking place today, said that many of the staff — from talent, to programming directors, to producers — live life on the road similar to that of the professional athletes they cover. In fact, there's a road code that many a Bristol swordsman abides by when gallivanting across the country. This individual, who started off giving us the definition of "road beef," (thanks for that!) went on to introduce to a couple more words familiar with many a Worldwide-leading employee:

Importing: "This is when you have a girl on the road but then fly her in to another destination. Women of this caliber may or may not be let out of hotel, either for fear of being outed or because they are not that attractive."

Covering Your Bases: "Many of the guys on the road would often import one girl, but then go out at night without her for the chance of an upgrade."

Fantastic.

Now, obviously today has caused a "major panic" over at Bristol headquarters according to those who work there or who know people who work there — especially with the many married male employees. Here's a typical email:

I've never had sex w/ anyone at ESPN....

But, uh, I just got to Bristol and between me and you, you've to got a lot of people sleeping with a rosary tonight.

But look at the upside:

And then there's this email, which is a little more typical(UPDATE):

I worked there for 11.5 years from 1985 to 1997...

That Lacey story seems pretty damn tame

Back when the company was much smaller there were regular parties that a lot of the company attended - needless to say there was a lot of fucking going on afterwards.

A lot of that culture remained moreso with the older employees that became executives...they were a scummy lot. smart, sure...talented, definitely....sleazy middle aged guys that felt they could proposition younger female employees with regularity - you bet.

yes, I still have friends there. the guys are by large all "locker room" humor guys, whether in bristol or on the road. I don't view inter-office relationships between people who don't fall under one another's command as a big deal and I don't think anyone else does either. we lived in the middle of connecticut for christ's sake, and trust me when I tell you, when we went out at night to bars in hartford it was slim pickings - the best options were always fellow espners.

What was disgusting were the executives though, even the ones I like and admire professionally. Hey, if a girl wants to fuck her boss, I'm not going to stop her. but when she is viewed in a seemingly preferential manner, then you start to get irritated. the sad part, even with the anonymity of the internet is that you'll never hear 1/10th of the stories. Especially with the fucking that occurs on the road with runners, stage managers, etc - the girls that aren't staff employees in any sense and are making shit money. the majority of the people that stay there more than 2 or 3 years stay there forever - they are the types that max contribute to their 401K, feel that working at ESPN is the coolest place in the world even after making shit money for a few years and working long hours doing work that a "nutless monkey could do".

Along with hiring lots of smart, dynamic personalities, and always a ton of cute girls in the last 10-15 years, they also hire straight up sports nerds who think nothing of working terrible hours and having no life. they can not get promoted for 7 or 8 years and are still happy being grunts.

fact is, working at espn is their life. they are away from family and friends constantly, they start their in their 20s and wake up at 30 realizing they gave the best years of their life to central connecticut. they have no girlfriend, travel all the time on weekends, and end up marrying a production assistant.

there are good, wholesome execs at espn that are surely embarrassed by this and would relish the opportunity to clean up the place. I worked in sportcenter, programming and remote production, a rarity. one area you need to dig into is remote production. you guys always focus on the studio side like it is the only element of production at espn (JED DRAKE). remote has always been responsible to as much and in the past, much more. before eoe, films, game shows, a crazy amount of studio shows, remote was responsible for everything on espn and espn2 but sportscenter.

the (JED DRAKE) guy that runs that dept is world class scumbag - fucking his secretary, production assistants, trying to fuck interns and having to fly across the atlantic to apologize to her parents after an incident
at the wimbledon...

other manager there are equally as bad - one had a fetish for blondes, another certain big time football producer openly hit on girls, another producer propositioned another producers wife and was threatened with a beating...it goes on and on and on... again, production assistants fucking other PAs, APs fucking PAs, producers fucking PAs that don't work under them - I have no problem with any of this, even if they happen to be cheating...

its the sexual harrassment that kills me...and not in a sense that the women are being mistreated because I think in almost every case, these girls are fucking the talent and fucking their bosses for the same reasons any other girl does at a company - she wants to, even if it has no bearing on her role at the company.

what is brutal are these execs that want to fuck anything that moves, then try to remain a respected authority figure and tell their staffs right from wrong, and make their employees feel like they might be getting the shaft for the fat pig that fucked the boss after the latest going away party

it is a weird, and in a cultural sense, very incestuous place! many have always maintained that if not in manhattan, if the place was at least in stamford it would be a lot more culturally normal

PS - I changed some dates, name, departments to protect myself

See? It's the location.

There seems to be no consistency to how the employee code of conduct is enforced over at ESPN. Can you bang an intern? Are you subject to harsher penalties if you're married? It's so murky.

Still awaiting comment on ESPN for that policy...

But, for now, ESPN, go in peace. I hope that 6 p.m. meeting went well. I think the one person who probably enjoyed this the most today (besides Nick Denton) is Sean Salisbury. He's somewhat vindicated.

****

Consider this your DUAN!

Thanks for your continued support of Deadspin. Barry will be here in a bit. Go Phillies.

Sleep tight, Bristol...

From an emailer named "Michelle Jones" last year: "there is so much more to her story and you really need to find out how she slept her way up pepsi's ladder and now espn's..."

And from a "samsamsmith":

I am watching the mistresses of these major public figures get humiliated and have their reputations destroyed. My question is this, what about the affair that happens on a "smaller scale", so to speak. What about the big shot marketing career woman who sleeps with the senior programmer at a major cable network. Why isn't her reputation ruined? Who will speak to "out" them? I want to remain anonymous, but I want someone to dig and write about this woman. Katie Lacey holds the top post at ESPN for marketing and she even has her name mentioned in an EEOC claim which ESPN is trying to keep quiet, wouldn't someone be interested in either of these things?

Oh pshaw. She can't be fucking anybody too important, right? Wrong. The rumor circulating through Bristol — and our inbox — is that Lacey infuriated a lot of people when she began doinking David Berson, an ESPN programming VP at the WWL.

On-air talent had been scolded for similar or lesser indiscretions, yet this relationship went unchallenged, infuriating some Bristolites. No leadership pickles for you, Lacey!

So for your notes: ESPN Corporate Ladder-Fucking: Good. ESPN On-Air Talent Production Assistant-Fucking: Not Good.

Still awaiting comment from ESPN....

Yes, according to sources, Mr. Kuselias became a little too friendly with a female ESPN employee at a recent Super Bowl Monday Night Football party, where he drunkenly blurted out to her, "I would like to fuck you." The woman, skeeved by his advances, declined. She notified HR and, according to a source, Kuselias was suspended. The HR person allegedly told the woman, "I'm not supposed to tell you this...but he's been warned before." Really?

Kuselias, by the way, was married at the time (shocker) but apparently is no longer because...

His wife hired a private investigator and found out he was having an ongoing relationship with ESPN personality Stephania Bell. Who again? Anyway, those two were doing it. Mrs. Kuselias wasn't too happy about it.

However! It appears that the Kuselias are trying to work things out at this time, I'm told. Good for them.

Awaiting comment from ESPN....

UPDATED FOR IRONY: Kuselias was hired by ESPN radio after they fired Jason Jackson for...sexual harassment.

UPDATED AGAIN: Everyone say hello to Jennifer Williams, ESPN personality and brand-new Deadspin commenter.

After a call to ESPN public relations department asking about the "rumor" I was told that "I would be wrong" to print that story because it was inaccurate. Fine. I would have been. But natural follow-up question to these types of rumors, as per give-and-take protocol, is well, what's the real story then? Was there an incident with Phillips that Baseball Tonight people are concerned about? However I was summarily nothing-to-see-here-please-dispersed.

Obviously, there was. The other interesting thing about this scenario is that Baseball Tonight producers and talent were so rattled by the Harold Reynolds incident that I'm sure they are completely dumbfounded by Phillips' behavior. Or, at least, the rumor was at the time is that Phillips was toxic and everyone wanted him to go so they don't relive the messy HR situation all over again. Alas.

However, there are many, many, many other people employed at the WWL who have (allegedly) boned assistants, interns, on-air talent, executives, etc. However, it's a little unclear as to what lines need to be crossed in order for them to be suspended.

And since the tenuous connection between rumor and fact for accuracy's sake has been a little eroded here, well, it's probably about time to just unload the inbox of all the sordid rumors we've received over the years about various ESPN employees. Chances are, at this point, there's some truth to them. We'll just throw 'em out there and see how many "no comments" or, you know, actual comments or "you would be completely wrongs" there are about these situations. Consider this one giant all-day version of "Deleted Scenes" or something.

Coming up first...ESPN "personality" Erik Kuselias.

So, Bristolites, strap in — it's gonna be a long day.