Drug Problems in Your Sport of Baseball: Offseason Update

Posted on by Frank Vandenbroucke · Leave a comment

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Hello once again to my American Frankyboys, this is 1999 Liege-Bastogne-Liege Champion Frank Vandenbroucke writing once again to talk to you about the subject of baseball. But that is enough about me for the moment, for there is not enough space to provide further detail of my plentiful sporting accomplishments because my mind is occupied with many other pursuits right now.

Centrally, I am pleased. I am pleased that my column from three months back, which was intended to improve your American sports such as baseball, has been received so successfully. I wag my finger enthusiastically in your direction, Mr. Palmeiro, for you have done well by heeding my advice. You have made a rather spectacular claim, namely:

Palmeiro said his wife, Lynn, injected him with the B-12, explaining she knew how to use a syringe because she gave the family dogs allergy shots.

Bravo, my friend. Shifting a portion of the blame onto your dog is most worthwhile, since only the most cruelest vultures of the press would dare question anything that was done to preserve the health of a harmless domestic animal. The wife administered shots to both you and your dog, but which substances were intended for you and which were meant for your dog? The uncertainty in your doping case has been irreversably mixed in with the condition of your dog, and one thing is for certain: the dog will not be scrutinized. However, I am mildly upset about your lack of creativity in that you blatantly stole the description of events that I gave after my house was raided several years ago. Regardless, you have earned my full respect with the manner in which you delivered your explanations. Just like with me, you are now a free agent who can sign with any team you choose and make a fresh start. Or as the saying goes where I am from, “he who carries a 100 kg load on his shoulders over a 2.5 km distance is entitled to 200 kg worth of rewards”. Very well done.

I have also detected many complaints about the new penalty system that has been installed in your sport. Many people have the opinion that 50 game suspensions are too great a punishment for a first offense. These people should quiet themselves and cease their complaints. Europeans are lax about many things, such as coffee breaks and writing the EU constitution. However, we are not lax when it comes to handing out penalties in cycling. The maximum penalty for first-time offenders is a two-year ban from the sport. This is the precise penalty that was given to self-proclaimed American choirboy Tyler Hamilton several months ago. So please do not cry and whine to me about harsh doping penalties in American sports, for I will not sympathize with you. The appropriate response is not to complain, but to become smarter. Athletes must raise their game. As the punishments rise, so must the quality of their explanations when faced with doping charges. Mr. Palmeiro’s dog-aided discourse is a success in 2005, but in future seasons, it will no longer be acceptable and baseball athletes will have to create something better. This is where Mr. Palmeiro’s lack of creativity disturbs me and causes me to possess some fear for the future of his sport. Baseball players, particularly elite ones, must not continue to look to the past for inspiration. They must take the sheep by its wool and cut themselves a unique new path.

The Kings of Las Vegas!

Posted on by Siegfried Fischbacher · Leave a comment

Hello basketball world! I am Siegfried, one half of the amazing world-famous Siegfried & Roy duo, here with an letter opener to the Kings of Sacramento, Mr. Maloof Brothers, on behalf of the greatest city in the world of Nevada, Las Vegas! In case you are wondering, in the picture above, I am on the right of Roy, who is to the left of a very large fan of our magic! I heard he is a captain, also! I support trooping overseas!

Mr. Maloof Brothers, if you decide your current ungrateful home is yours to be worth leaving, the city of Las Vegas will welcome you with open arms and high leg kicks and wonderful gushing fountains whose spurting is timed to Debussy! My companion Roy and I are very lucky to have been a part of this city’s greatness between 1990 and 2003! Those thirteen years have been the greatest of my life, and I am sure Roy would agree with that if he was able to move his left arm! Maloof (if I may be forwarding so!), the Las Vegas area is ready for the Kings of professional sports to become a part of the great Las Vegas landscape like the glowing neon cowboy and the Air Force base with the flying saucers and autopsies hosted by Star Trek’s #1!

I imagine some of you are wondering how much of a basketball fan I am, really! Well, let me tell you that I am a huge fan! When I first came to Vegas, I fell in love with the UNLV Running Rebels of Tarkanian the Shark! I much enjoyed watching Tarkanian eat towels while players like Anderson Hunter and Tracy Augmon took it deep! It is a shame those hottub pictures came out! Sex scandals are so hard to come over! Just ask my close friend and animal lover, Pop King Michael Jackson! (No doubt the rumors about me and my beloved tigers are still running out there! Let me say first and for all they are not very true!) I am also happy to count among my friend former Rebel Runner coach Rollie Massimino! He was much the fan of Wayne Newton and mine! And he was also a great fan of the professional basketball as well! He told me once he made many killings on the Kings! That known, it is only fair that the Kings come here to kill as well!

Let me officially offer you, Mr. Maloof Brothers, a plan from my former friend and employer, Steve Wynn of the Mirage! He will allow your Kings to play at his wonderful resort casino! Mr. Wynn is graciously willing to transform our former White Tiger refuge into a state-of-the-art basketball complex, complete with any amenities you could want to buy! Mr. Wynn told me that because of Siegfried & Roy having cancelled their show because of Roy’s accident, he wants nothing to do with any more stupid tigers and will do anything to get rid of them and the money they cost him! And these tigers made him lots of money costs! Surely you can see to what lengths he is willing to get you!

And to Mr. David Stern of the Basketball Association of America: do not worry about the thought of gambling affecting your basketball! Gambling, like basketball, is nothing more than a harmless pasttime where people can make lots of money! Both can happen at the same time without people knowing! Everyone knows how you like to double your standards when it comes to selling people basketballs, and in Las Vegas, you can maintain these standards with much ease!

So, please, Mr. Brothers, do not turn your back on your current and possible future home! Las Vegas and basketball are like the peanut butter and jelly of sandwiches! They are great tastes that always taste great, and together they will taste even better! I am Siegfried! Thank you! Roy and I love you all!

In 2000, Siegfried Fischbacher & Roy Horn were honored as Magicians of the Century by the International Magicians Society.

Dime for a Change

Posted on by Scoop Jackson · 7 Comments

On the street, they call them dimes. And they’re the currency of the playground. From Rucker to the Cage, when they talk about handle, they’re talking about the not-so-secret language of ballin’.

Before the lights, before the Yellow Jackets, before the feuds with KG, with Van Horn, even with cousin Bassy, he was Stephon from Coney Island, and he mastered the language.

He was a streetball legend. The way he used to handle the pill? It was astonishing. In New York City, you don’t need a sneaker deal to be a superstar. You don’t even need to play D-I ball. All you need is handle.

Stephon grew up among the legends, heard about the legends, played against the legends, beat the legends…Kenny Anderson…Booger Smith…Conrad McNasty…Sweetpea Daniels…and the king of the hill, Earl Manigault.

The Goat.

The G.O.A.T.

And then there was Stephon, obsessed with Run TMC, developing that wicked crossover, breaking ankles at Lincoln High. He was so good he didn’t need a nickname. Later on observers would see that scowl, label him a malcontent, and call him “Starbury.”

But they didn’t know. Nobody knew.

Yeah, he would scowl. He used to twist up his face out there in New Jersey. He wasn’t happy, and he didn’t hide it. And as he bounced around the league, putting together stats that made him seem like the heir apparent to Oscar Robertson, you would have thought he was Oscar the Grouch.

And then he got traded to the Knicks. And all of a sudden, it wasn’t about the money anymore. Madison Square Garden? Forget about it. This was the guy who wrote “All Alone” on his sneakers. Back at home, surrounded by his fam? Jersey ain’t home. But Stephon would have played in New York for a dollar.

For a dime.

And you could hear it, from Stapleton to Gun Hill, when Stephon finally stepped onto the Garden court as a Knick. #3 jerseys flew out of Modell’s. Rappers enthused about being “happier than Marbury home.” Regular guys on the grind laced up their janky-ass And1 kicks from ten years back and wore them with pride. Everybody knew Stephon was the truth.

But the Knicks are another story. The hate runs thick in New York, where the sellout streak is a thing of the past, right up there with Patrick Ewing’s jump shot, John Starks’ dunk, and Bernard King’s knees. But this mess in New York isn’t Marbury’s fault.

No less an icon than Walt “Clyde” Frazier says Marbury needs to keep his grill shut when he talks about wanting to play the two. But isn’t this the same Stephon who called himself the greatest point guard in the league just last year? What does it say when a guy like that is willing to switch positions for the good of his team?

Because yesterday, trading baskets with Sebastian Telfair and the Blazers, the Garden didn’t look so much like the World’s Most Famous Arena as the other Garden – the one off Ocean Avenue in Coney Island, the rusty cage where Marbury and Telfair learned their games growing up. Jawing back and forth, throwing elbows, doing the old clear-out move and driving on each other as their teammates stood by and watched, Steph and cousin Bassy displayed their baller genetics and scored 27 each. And the Knicks won.

Stephon Marbury led his team to victory. He even dished out eight assists. So if Larry Brown knows what’s good for him, he’ll do what Marbury says. Think Stephon doesn’t feed off the motivation of being criticized, second-guessed, and hated on? Think again. Remember a little guy in Philly named A.I. with the same scowl, the same ink, the same coach, and the same problem? Remember when he made the Finals?

If the Knicks are going to do it, they’re going to do it for one reason: because Marbury is a playa. And there might as well be a neon sign in Penn Station that says it:

Playas Only.

Scoop Jackson is an award-winning journalist who has covered sports and culture for more than 15 years. He is a former editor of Slam, XXL, Hoop and Inside Stuff magazines and the author of “Nike: Sweatshop Hustlin'” and “LeBron James: the Chambers of Fear.” He resides in Chicago with his wife and two kids.

The Need For Speed

Posted on by Joe Morgan · 3 Comments

Congratulations are due to Commissioner Bud Selig for his courageous policy against the use of performance enhancing drugs in baseball. It took a lot of hard work and time and patience, and some help and support from the US Senate, but finally baseball has an anti-steroid policy that will protect baseball from cheaters and false records, and lets fans know that the game is cleaning up its act. However, there is some fine print in this tough new policy that I think is unnecessary and might end up hurting baseball more than it helps baseball.

If you read the fine print in the policy, you’ll find a small section that talks about banning the use of amphetamines, and punishing those that use these supplements. I don’t agree with this part of the policy for many reasons. First of all, amphetamines – or “greenies,” as players like to call them – are a part of the game, and a part of the game’s history. Greenies are as much a part of baseball as pepper and shaving cream pies. Hank Aaron is on the record having said that a lot of his teammates used greenies on a daily basis. I hear they also get mentioned a lot in Jim Bouton’s Ball Four book, which gives you an idea of their historical importance.

I can imagine that lots of great baseball moments wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for greenies or “player’s coffee” (which is coffee made with greenies). A baseball season is very long, and it’s hard to make it through all those regular season games (and playoff games) just through clean living and the occasional day off. I remember, my last year in the league, when I was an Oakland A before the days of Moneyball, I was under the impression I was drinking player’s coffee before every game. Instead, I was drinking “coach’s coffee” (which is coffee mixed with various types of alcohol and pain killers), and I had one of the worst years of my career. I was lost out in the field, and doing things at the plate that Sally Leaguers wouldn’t do, like not being aggressive at the plate and walking a lot. It took until mid-June before I realized that I was taking the field drunk every day! That’s why I was walking so much – I was too tired and confused, and couldn’t be as aggressive at the plate like I wanted. If baseball bans greenies, then lots more players are going to take the field three sheets to the wind, and lost their aggressive edge. That isn’t good for baseball, fans of baseball, or baseball players.

My main question is: what’s the difference between amphetamines and, say, caffeine? It would probably take a six-pack of Coca Cola (which used to contain actual cocaine!) or 10 Snickers bars to equal the boost of energy a player could get from just two little green pills. Would baseball rather have their players rotting their teeth and getting fat, or would they rather have their athletes operating at their highest level? If you’re going to ban amphetamines from the clubhouse, then why not ban other “enhancing substances”? Why not remove all soda machines? Why not ban champagne from clubhouse celebrations? Why not get rid of all tobacco products, or anything that contains Nutrasweet (a cancer-causing agent in lab rats!), or even sports drinks? A drug that changes the physical make-up of your body should be banned, I agree, because changing your body illegally is wrong, especially if it makes your head grow! But greenies don’t change your body any more than aspirin or cough syrup do. Where do you draw the line?

I say baseball shouldn’t ban greenies. In fact, I think baseball should do the opposite and promote the use of greenies. Here’s why: for one, it would speed up games. A lot of the reason for the length of today’s baseball games – which bores fans in the stands and at home, as well as broadcasters in the booth (good thing Yankee announcer John Sterling introduced me to “broadcaster’s coffee”!) – is that players are dragging their feet. They take their time on the mound, in the batter’s box, on the basepaths. If everyone popped a few greenies before each game, I bet you games would speed up because the players would be excited and ready to go. Also, excited players excite the fans – people love scrappy hustling players like David Eckstein or Neifi Perez. Imagine if everyone on the field was that energetic and full of hustle. It would be a great time for everyone, including the players and the fans and the media.

In addition, greenies would allow baseball to return to its more traditional, smallball roots. Everyone knows that the decline in pitching and the increase in homeruns is directly caused by the rampant use of steroids in baseball. With this new policy in place, players aren’t going to be able to swing for the fences every time like they used to. They’ll have to learn how to manufacture runs, steal bases, and do the little things like move runners over and hit singles, and save the home run for when they really need it. That’s why this year’s White Sox team was such a great story – they played small ball in a world that relies on free-swinging home run hitters and slow people clogging up the bases.

Widespread use of greenies will help ease baseball’s transition from its disgraceful muscle-bound recent past into a brand new future of speed and excitement. I bet you players that never thought of running the bases like Maury Wills or Scott Podsednik would be itching to try and take second at every opportunity. It would keep fans interested, too – they’d never know who’d be next to try and steal a base. It might also bring back the greatest play in baseball, a play that (before this year’s White Sox) was rarely used, if it was ever used: the stealing of home. What’s more exciting than seeing a baseball player take off for home plate as the pitch heads towards the catcher? I don’t think anything is that exciting. And that’s why I think baseball should let greenies stay in baseball.

Theo Epstein: What’s On Your iPod?

Posted on by Theo Epstein · 1 Comment

1) Pearl Jam – “Betterman”
A great song off a great album. When I was in college, I didn’t really “get” Vitalogy, especially the more experimental tracks like “Tremor Christ” and “foxymophandle”. I wanted “Evener Flow” and “Even More Flow,” you know? But songs like “Betterman” – written by Eddie when he was 14! – cut through all that willfull “artistic” confusion and cut to the quick like the best Pearl Jam does. Reports says the new Jam – coming soon! – is going to be fantastic. You know I’m stoked. Of course, it goes without saying that Bronson & I do a killer version of “Hunger Strike.” Get enough Jaeger in me, and I’ll hit those high notes like Ike hit Tina. (Hey, Gammo!)

2) Rolling Stones – “Monkey Man”
True story: back in elementary school, me and 3 of my friends, for a school project, made a Claymation film. Actually, it was 4 shorter unrelated Claymation films put together. We spent a lot of nights after school moving figurines and clicking a button, moving figurines and clicking a button. It was a pain, no doubt, just moving a little pipe cleaner one little bit for about 20 frames. But seeing the finished product, and having folks applaud at the end, was totally worth the effort. Being a GM is very similar: you make all of these minor maneuvers that don’t seem like much at first, but, in the big picture, make all the difference. That is, unless someone (like a nosy Social Studies teacher) tries to butt in and “help” when his help isn’t warranted, and then tries to take credit when he didn’t do a damn thing except nearly screw up everything.

Anyway, each of us chose a different song to soundtrack our film. I chose “Monkey Man”. My film was about an alien trying to eat a car. I would’ve used “Rapture,” but that’s too obvious, you know? I would almost give away my World Series ring just to play guitar like Keith Richards. Almost.

3) All-American Rejects – “Dirty Little Secret”
Rivers Cuomo, you’ve been served. I’ll admit, a lot of emo-pop turns me off real quick, but if you can deny the hooks & power of this tune, then you’re a balding megalomanaical mealy-mouthed pasty-faced f*ck-knuckle in desperate need of attention and validation. Or you write for the Globe.

4) Default – “Wasting My Time”
Some nu-grunge ain’t half bad. If Seven Mary Three could actually write a good song, they’d write this. And then break up. A great song to jam to, especially if you’re really pissed off about your life or your job or a former mentor stabbing you in the back.

5) Puff Daddy – “All About the Benjamins”
The telegraph-line guitar on this track is great. That rock remix is awful, though – hi, Diddy, Rick Rubin called. He wants his ideas back. Anyway, I hadn’t thought about this song for a long time until I heard about this on-air beef between Diddy and Style P & Jadakiss. Jada was talking about sticking Diddy in a fridge for stealing millions of dollars from him – it was nuts! The bit I heard ended with Jada suggesting Angie Martinez play teh reggaeton remix of “Benjamins” so Diddy gets paid. Man, I WISH there was a reggaeton – or reggaetron, ha! – version of this, w/ that Don Omar “reggaeton latino” track as the beat. Speaking of Mr D-Block:

6) Jadakiss – “Checkmate”
Jada’s diss track to 50 Cent. Fierce. “Your raps are pre-school, you made a lot of money, now be cool / ‘Fore I swell up your lips like seafood.” Best laugh in pop music. Thanks to Big Papi for this one. I’ll be missing you, for real, D. Manny, though, not so much. (I keed, I keed! Theo being Theo!)

7) Veruca Salt – “Seether”
Back at Yale, this was my guilty pleasure. I’ll admit, it was the video. And then, after I heard the Blow It Out Your Ass EP, it was all about the music. Don’t know what the hell happened to Louise, but I’m glad to see Nina Gordon still kicking around. (If I had a 7a, it’d be her acoustic version of NWA’s “Straight Outta Compton”. That’s right, acoustic. Sheds the song in a whole new light. Don’t front.)

8) The Who – “Won’t Get Fooled Again”
So Mr. Shaugnessy, in a recent column, suggested that the newly vacated General Manager position with the Boston Red Sox should be filled by a certain Brookline native that once held that very position. I dunno about you, but it made me think of this song. And the number of gullible twerps that bought into his curse hoonja-doonja for the past umpteen years, & how he and his humped-back drooling cronines are itching to perpetuate another curse now that a certain someone related to the 2004 championship season decided to cut bait. Figures – if you stop poking a turd, it stops stinking, right?

It also made me think of the Yankees, a team that’s almost single-handedly ruined this song. Almost. Also, Brian Cashman, a guy with the heart of a lion and the intestinal fortitude to match. Good luck in the Bronx, Bri, and tell George I said the Red Sox are interested in signing Brad Ausmus & Terrence Long. Oh – and $84M for Damon is a bargain at ten times that price, if only for the ins he has with Alter Bridge. I’d give him an 8th year, though, just to be safe. *wink*

PS – remember what I said about some nu-grunge not sucking? That doesn’t apply to any Creed-like products.

9) Letters to Cleo – “Here & Now”
Probably Boston’s best post-Pixie band. (Longwave schlongwave.) Some of my fondest memories are from Gammo’s “Hot Stove, Cool Music” fundraiser in 2003, seeing LtC reunite & kick out this jam. Best “End Of the World As We Know It” rip ever. And for all of you out there around my age that say you didn’t like this song: you are FULL. OF. IT. You’re the same folks that won’t admit you watched She-Ra after school. Stop being a “man” and admit it already.

10) Player – “Baby Come Back”
And, yeah, I’ve got a soft spot for 70s AM schmaltz, too. Second in this era only to “Baker Street” in terms of getting something in my eye. (You simply cannot deny that proto-Clarence Clemons sax work on “Baker Street”, unless you’re dead inside.) Someone, somewhere, is playing this song and thinking about someone they did wrong, and wishing they’d walk through that door like Larry Bird or Han Solo or something. I don’t know who, but whoever you are: don’t hold your breath. Or your nuts.

Theo Epstein plays guitar for Trouser.

Latrell’s Lame Blog of Despair

Posted on by Latrell Sprewell · 4 Comments

Mood: Depressed

It’s been a tough week. >:-< Why won’t anyone let me just play basketball again? I have called EVERYONE and no one wants me. It’s really getting me down! I can understand Miami, they already have a lot of guys my age. But no one wants any veteran leadership? Not even Atlanta? Ugh. I must be the biggest loser in the world. 8-(

ANYWAYZ….

I’m just bored, I guess. I’m here, alone, at home, in the kitchen, babysitting my niece while everyone else goes out to get their hair done WITH MY MONEY. This kid is seriously getting on my nerves, too. All she wants to eat is Cheerios, but she doesn’t eat them, really, just gums them all up and then spits them out at me. EW DISGUSTING. I don’t even know which one this is. Emily, I think. I don’t really care. I HATE babysitting.

They could have asked me to go out with them, you know. My hair is a complete mess. I look like Crab Man on “My Name Is Earl.” That’s my pick for my favorite new show now that “Arrested Development” has been cancelled. *sniff* Jason Lee is funny though, and I love Crab Man, he’s so cool. But you can’t tell me that Jaime Pressley isn’t SO HOTT as Joy. I grew up with lots of white-trash Milwaukee girls like her, but none of them were that fine. Plus she’s a gifted comedienne.

Sad to say it, but “Lost” has totally jumped the shark this year. TOO MANY PLOTS! It’s like T.O. said last week in an email: “This show has some serious ‘Twin Peaks Syndrome’ going on.” Man, I feel bad for that dude — he and I have a lot of the same things going on right now. But I still kind of hate him. Because if the Eagles let him go, teams would completely take him in a heartbeat! I can’t even get a job with the damn Atlanta Hawks. OMG I’m such a loser!

It’s unfair though. All I did was choke a coach! Plus, it was P.J. Carlesimo! I just did what everyone in basketball wanted to do for 20 years. SO UNCOOL. But I have played on two teams since then, and now everyone thinks I’m not good enough to be on their team. My self esteem is taking a major hit. How many more hits before I go down?

Here’s another thing that bothers me, and then I will completely be done whining. Everyone thinks I’m like a locker-room cancer. That is MAJORLY wrong to say. Cancer is a bad disease that kills people. I am just a man, and I have never killed anyone, not even in an alcohol-related car crash or through teasing someone so bad that they killed themselves or died mysteriously like that kid in “Cipher in the Snow.” So to say that is to be disrespectful to people who really have cancer, okay?

When they say I have anger management issues, it’s like, um, DUH, who doesn’t? And why wouldn’t I? Tyronn Lue is STARTING but I can’t get a callback from the Atlanta Freakin’ Hawks. I’m supporting like 100 people, most of whom I don’t know. (Is her name Charlotte, maybe?) My yacht has black mold on it. My name is synonymous with freaking out and trying to kill some lame-o with a beard. I have a toothache. WHY WOULDN’T I HAVE ANGER MANAGEMENT–

OH GROSS, I just found a half-eaten Cheerio in my hair. Gotta go. REMEMBER THE COMMENTS BOX, send me notes of hope!

L-Diddley OUT.

YOU ARE READING A SIMULATED BLOG POST

Posted on by Steve Phillips · 1 Comment

Q: Steve! Steve! Steve! Buster Olney from ESPN. The Phillies have a real problem on their hands – they’ve got perennial All-Star Jim Thome at first and Rookie of the Year Ryan Howard waiting in the wings. Something’s got to give, right?

Steve Phillips: That’s a good question, Buster. It sure does. If I’m the general manager of the Phillies, I know in my heart I’ve got to make the right move and trade Ryan Howard. You just can’t change horses like that in the middle of a race. Thome is a proven winner. He makes millions. He is the heart and soul of that team. Ryan Howard might still be playing in Scranton if it weren’t for Jim Thome’s elbow. Next question!

Q: Steve! Steve! Steve! John Kruk from Baseball Tonight. When you go to sleep, do you still see Al Leiter throwing that pitch to Luis Sojo?

Steve Phillips: No comment! Next question!

Q: Steve! Steve! Steve! Jeremy Schaap here. What are your thoughts on Bobby V winning it all overseas?

Steve Phillips: Bobby is an old friend, and I miss him dearly, and I wish him only the best over there. It’s funny, I was having dinner with him a while back, when I was over there fake-negotiating the merger of Orix and Houlihan, and he made a little joke. He said, “Steve, you know how they got Al Capone, don’t you? Tax evasion.” We laughed about it then, but it’s a shame those words came back to haunt him. Insider trading charges are very hard to beat, but for Mary’s sake I’m hoping he gets off with a hefty fine and the obvious shame that will be visited upon his family for generations to come. If Bobby can hear this from whatever horrific Japanese prison they’ve got him sequestered in, don’t give up! If the Ham Fighters don’t want you back, the Devil Rays probably will. Next question!

Q: Steve! Steve! Steve! Mario Lopez here from ESPN Hollywood. If you could travel back in time and nail Tiffani-Amber Thiessen, Elizabeth Berkley, or Lark Voorhies, which one would it be and why?

Steve Phillips: You know, this whole “Saved by the Bell” nostalgia is tired. As reporters, you guys should know a dead horse when you see one. So since this is my press conference, I’m going to switch it up a little and take another early-90’s teen idol: Candace Cameron as D.J. Tanner on “Full House.” I got to know Candace when I was fake general managing the Calgary Flames. She and her husband Valeri and I share many of the same values and beliefs, and if I weren’t a married man, I’d gladly slip it in her five-hole. Metaphorically speaking, of course. But we make choices in life, and our organizational philosophy demands that we make the most of those decisions and live up to a higher standard. So I guess my answer is that ESPN is like a big family. Next question!

Q: Steve, this is Peter Gammons. I’ve got a follow-up on Mario’s last question: Angie Harmon or Jill Hennessey?

Steve Phillips: Good question, Peter. Hmm. I guess I’d have to say Angie Harmon, no doubt about it. I got to know Angie very well when I was fake general manager of the New York Giants. I once pretended to trade Jason Sehorn to the Miami Dolphins for a fourth-round draft pick and a month’s worth of rentals at Blockbuster Video, and Angie was just devastated. You’d think that a glamorous actress like her would give anything to be at the nexus of celebrity life, but Angie was perfectly happy living among the cogeneration facilities and rendering plants and running in fear from the Jersey Devil at night.

Q: Steve! Chris Berman, “Baseball Tonight.” What I want to ask you is this: how does one man get his hair to stay in such a perfect helmet shape under these hot lights?

Steve Phillips: Again, I want to reiterate that I can only speak for myself and my organization here. But I swear by Kiehl’s Malleable Molding Paste. I like to take a big glop of it and smear it in there good and thick. Then I blow-dry for ten or fifteen minutes. Try it sometime.

Q: Steve! Steve! Sal Paolantonio here. What can you tell us about the Terrell Owens situation?

Steve Phillips, former general manager of the 2000 NL Champion New York Mets, is a regular contributor to BBTN.

Eurohoop Are Go!

Posted on by Peker Milisic · 1 Comment

Hi hello and welcome to a first instalment of EUROHOOP ARE GO!, it is a weekly summary of Euro Basketball. I extend hapiness of Hard-Wood guys to ask me of this!

Was a very torrid start so far to ULEB Euroleague, two rounds so far. Biggest new was of cours huge upset of Olympaikos beating last year’s champion [it was only in June however] Maccabi Tel Aviv. Maccabi are so very much missing Sarunas Jasikevicius, now on your Indianapolis Pacers now. Big star of Olympiakos is Quincy Lewis, he made the yellow jerseys look like they were yellow from the urine of a dead donkey. My boy Zloty lost many euros on this game, hah to him.

Some still other undefeated teams are Lego Bruges, Lyrzyzy Juniors, Uutan Blezak, Milan Fascisti, and Manram Sporting. So far highest scorer is Omani Paterson, followed close by Harrison Blount, Quincy Lewis like we said, speedy Elvis Sucjyc, and Juan Pablo “Shooter” Cebolla. Rebounds are nobly led by new player Szymon Kaukonnen of ABDAK Barcelona, a sensation at 2.51 metres of tall, who has averaged 42 rebounds per game so far, and also leads with 14 blocks in each game so far also as well.

Let us also turn attentions to the FIBA EuroCup. Guess what? Fenerbahce has gotten themselves beat in Group E! It was a brutal defeat at the hands of EKA Lemesos. [Again, my boy Zloty has gussed wrong. He will soon be visited by some brick-like men from St. Petersburg. I hope his new trainers take him where he want to go.] Other surprises are the continued success of Dynamo Omsk in Group N and Ibex Bmunsden in Group T. A crucial match upcoming is the replay of Spyrios Telemaxius against Blurten Basketball Team, as the original game was called due to EU health code violations due to several parts of goat feces in the water supply. This will be hotly contested!

One main issue dealing with is the fortunes of more European players going to the NBA. Of this September’s championships, many of the top guys are already in the league: Andrei Kirilenko, Dirk Nowitzki, Tony Parker, Boris Diaw, and cetera. But when will “The Logo” come calling for other great players? Will we see “Shooter” Cebolla in this league soon, maybe for a low-level team that needs him? What about any of the top Greek players, like Diamantis Tsartsaropoulous or Vasilis Gonnococcoulous? Will the NBA continue to deplete our European teams? And if so could they please send some of their most fading former superstars? Clichy-sous-Bois could use the calming influence of Latrell Sprewell now, and it is clear that Basket Bologna would like to have Anfernee “Penny” Hardaways.

That is all I have for now. Until another time, remember, shake it like Peker would!

Peker Milisic writes for Eurobasket.com.

HARD WOOD EXCLUSIVE: The Craig Sager Collection

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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

TNT’s Craig Sager Offers NBA Players The Shirt Off His Back

In response to Camby’s suggestion that the National Basketball Association provide players with a clothing stipend (so that players may be able to conform to the newly instituted dress code), NBA sideline reporter Craig Sager has offered to clothe NBA superstars with selections from The Craig Sager Collection, a hot new line of dress suits and ties envisioned and designed by Sager in conjunction with the Men’s Warehouse chain of clothing stores.

“I heard Marcus’ plea,” says Sager, “and I wanted to help. It’s a shame that the NBA is forcing these fantastic athletes to subsume their individuality and sense of style in order to conform to this new fashion edict. And I know how expensive Sean John suits can be. This is why I want to offer players the shirt, tie, and jacket off my back, free of charge. And this is just the beginning. The lengths I’ll go to dress the world’s finest sports stars are nothing compared to the lengths I’ll go for the guy on the street. It’s my motto, my pledge, my promise, and my word.”

Such a bold move is nothing new for Sager. His collection epitomizes the sense of daring and panache that has typified Sager’s individualized look since he gained national prominence as the go-to sideline reporter for TNT’s NBA broadcasts. Around watercoolers and coffee kiosks across America, people talk about what Sager wore just as much as that great pass or dunk. “I wanted to stand out,” says Sager about his choice in couture. “I didn’t just want to be another talking head telling people about the amount of Ben Gay in Hot Plate William’s jock, or how many times Robert Parish turned his ankle. I wanted to be as memorable as the athletes I reported on. And I want everyone to feel that memorable.”

George Zimmer, president of the Men’s Wearhouse, is excited about this opportunity. “I’ve envied Craig’s eye for what works ever since I saw him on TV wearing a peach colored suit, powder blue shirt, and a tie that looked like Jerry Garcia’s worst acid trip. He pulled it off because he wanted to pull it off, and that sort of innate charisma is in every piece of Craig’s clothing. When he approached us with a chance to be the one-stop-shop for his line, I jumped up and put the ball through the cylinder. NBA players, and the regular joes, are gonna like the way they look – Craig guarantees it.”

Sager’s appeal doesn’t just stop on the basketball court. Other sports personalities have fallen under Craig’s siren song of style. “When I heard my buddy, Craig ‘Night Moves’ Sager was entering the fashion world, I told him to sign me up,” says ESPN newsanchor and broadcaster Chris Berman. “Craig’s boldness and in-your-faceness is a perfect match for the Schwam. I’ve seen his plum three-piece, and lemme tell you, it puts the 15 plum three-pieces I already own to shame. Once you buy one of his suits, you’ll be going back back back for more!”

A selection of these spectacular Sager fashions will be shown this Fall in New York. Part of Couture Fashion Week, produced by USA International Fashion Shows. The runway presentation will be held at 10:00 a.m. on Friday, November 25, at Applebee’s Neighborhood Bar & Grill, 2655 Richmond Street, in Staten Island, NY.

Sager’s hottness cannot be denied. In addition to this unprecedented comet-like entry into the stratosphere of high fashion, Sager has been tapped to redesign the warm-up suits for all National Basketball Development League franchises. “A striking new league,” says NBDL President Phillip Evans, “deserves a striking new look, and there’s no one better I can think of to pull this off than Craig Sager.”

“I think, as great as the players are in today’s game,” says Sager, “in terms of fashion, there’s still a long way to go. If history looks back on Craig Sager as the Bob Mackie to the National Basketball Association’s Cher, then it’ll all be worth it. Each NBA superstar, each person, is like a diamond in the rough. All they need is a bit of polish to realize their dazzling potential. And I’ve got just the chamois to make them shine.”

The Diary of Tony Parker

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As the first light of morning filtered in through the Venetian blinds, I buttoned the cufflinks of my fine Sea Island cotton shirt, stared deeply into the eyes of my darling, sleeping Eva, and reflected on what a truly privileged life I live. While I awaited the arrival of my chums, I ate a breakfast of smoked fish and pain au chocolat and penned several letters – to my brother, the Lord Treasurer Monsieur Saint-Denis, and to the Mayor of Toulouse, where Tony Parker Day was celebrated a fortnight ago.

I heard the sound of a klaxon and strolled out onto the veranda, ascertaining that my driver had come to my estate. As I carried my valises across the threshold, I espied my Eva at the balcony, her hair a luminous waterfall at her shoulders.

“Anthony,” she cried. “Why must you love me with the ferocious intensity of some sort of wild animal?”

“I am but a man,” I replied. “But your tender embrace unlocks the beast within!”

Outside, the sky was the color of chalcedony, and inside the Aston Martin sat my dearest Timothy and Emanuel.

“I bid you good morrow, sirs!” I cried, bussing each of them briskly on the cheeks. Yet Emanuel was vexed.

“What ho, Emanuel?” I inquired, noting his visible discomfort.

Emanuel tore at his sleeves with bitter malaise. “It is this damnable dress code!” he lamented. “Lucifer’s thunder! It is designed to crush the spirit of even Artest of Indianapolis!”

“Yet surely,” I said, “it is an honour to wear such finery! As a child I was brought up to believe that the acquisition of clothing like this was nothing less than a lifelong aspiration. There is a certain je ne sais quoi at hand here.”

“Lies!” spat Emanuel. “My forefathers tamed the wild Pampas. They slept in their gauchos. Would they not sneer at such decadence?”

“I should hope not,” replied Timothy, quaffing a Pellegrino.

“Then let it be voluntary!” cried Emanuel. “I wish to be judged as a man, not as a mannequin. These fine suits serve as too ornate a frame within which I must be viewed.”

“Yet you are wealthy and successful,” Timothy noted. “We are all wealthy and successful. To dress in this fashion conveys respect and understanding of the position in life which we occupy.”

“Pah!” Emanuel spat, using an Argentine expletive which translates poorly into this language, yet which Timothy and I immediately understood. “These are but mere hairshirts. Do you not remember the Duchamp retrospective last week, gentlemen? Recall, if you will, the blank frame! The declension of the bourgeois!”

“Yet Dada is…vulgar!” I exclaimed. “Call me a classicist if you must, but I prefer the more prosaic forms of yore.”

“I should think to call you a romantic,” he sniffed, but before I could provide a bitter riposte, our carriage had arrived at the SBC Center.

There is little to add. At the half that evening we enjoyed excellent victuals and wine, and young Beno played the lute. The Cavaliers were soundly thumped on our watch. I read the news of les émeutes with great sorrow; my heart grows heavy with sadness with each passing day, much like that of Michael Jordan when he wakes up each morning and discovers it impossible to make love to a giant pile of money.

Adieu, Anthony

Tony Parker plays point guard for the San Antonio Spurs.