In our ongoing effort to provide you with coverage of the Olympics that you just won’t get anywhere else, we’ve decided to give you a rundown of the first weekend of the 30th Olympiad in pictures. They say one picture is worth a thousand words, but posting a picture is a hell of a lot easier than writing.
The Opening Ceremonies contained an address from Queen Elizabeth II, who has been on the British Throne for 60 years.
All of Britain needs to thank the Queen for their country hosting the Olympics. As we all know, Great Britain is completely broke, and if it weren’t for the Queen picking up a part-time job, these games may have never happened.
Here at Dubsism, we are all about education. That means as part of our Olympic coverage, we will strive to make sure you in the blog reading public get an opportunity to learn something while staying tuned to our coverage of the 30th Olympiad. In a previous blog, we did make a reference to the fact J-dub is a practitioner of Judo. Now, thanks to the good people at Pleated Jeans, we’ve found an effective way to teach the joys of Olympic Judo.
#1) The School Dance
2) The Warm Embrace
3) The Disgruntled Bookie
4) The Late Night Date
6) The Tickle Monster
Now that you know the six basic Judo throws, share the Olympic experience with the next total stranger you pass on the street.
Now that we find ourselves at the start of the 30th Olympiad, it is time for us here at Dubsism to perform another public service by giving you a quick rundown on things you need to know about each event of the Summer Olympic Games. Let’s be hones, this is where you can learn a lot more about the Olympics than those moulyaks at NBC are going to tell you.
Archery - The only people who used bows and arrow were either Robin Hood and his band of thieves or Native Americans, and they are both all dead. The only people left using them are those enormously overweight southerners you see hunting deer on Saturday mornings on ESPN. The only thing more ridiculous than a 300-pound guy up a tree who thinks his camouflage NASCAR hat makes him invisible is the fact these Skoal-stained goatee wearers don’t dominate this sport. Actually, that’s not the most ridiculous thing…I forgot they actually have a blind archer in this Olympics. Doesn’t blind archery sound like it belongs in the Monty Python Silly Olympiad?
Badminton - I don’t trust any sport which doesn’t have a ball, or at the very least a puck. I certainly don’t have any respect for any sport whose object of play is called a “birdie.” I have even less respect for this sport after discovering “birdie” is merely another name for “shuttlecock.” The entire sport and anybody who plays it can suck my shuttlecock.
Basketball - Here is the sport invented by Americans, perfected by Americans, and dominated by Americans. Speaking as an American, I think it is amazing we found the last 12 not-gigantically fat Americans to fill out the team roster.
Beach Volleyball - The men’s version is completely unwatchable and the women’s version…well, let’s just call this what it is: sand-based soft-core porn. If Cinemax ever started a sports channel, women’s beach volleyball would figure prominently in its schedule.
Boxing - If the International Olympic Committee (IOC) ran a restaurant, they would be able to screw up a grilled cheese sandwich. The only thing exciting about boxing is the chance to see somebody get absolutely shit-hammered, but thinks to the IOC you have a better chance of seeing Bigfoot eating a unicorn than aan Olympic boxing knock-out.
Canoeing/ Kayaking - Remember the movie “Deliverance?” What started as a bit of canoeing ends up in homosexual rape. There’s nothing sporting about that. Maybe we should just go all the way and make inbred hillbilly banjo picking an Olympic event as well.
Cycling - If you’ve ever lived in a city which has bike couriers and/or miles of deicated bike paths, you know that about 96.7% of avid bicyclists are complete douche-nozzles. After all, this is a sport which produced the world’s only completely unsympathetic cancer survivor in Lance Armstrong.
Diving - Just once, I want to see somebody do a cannonball from the high dive. It doesn’t have to be a diver; hell, it would be ever better if you got a shot put thrower or a super-heavyweight wrestler or weightlifter to do it. Just one big dude doing a cannonball just once. Is that too much to ask?
Equestrian - Like the Olympics themselves, the equestrian events date back to the ancient Greeks, who developed what became known as dressage as a method of training for war. In fact, in the early Olympics, only male military officers were permitted to compete. We need to gt this event back to its martial roots. I say make it a full-on medieval jousting contest.
Let’s be honest; there’s only two things that are cool to do on horseback. One is jousting, and the other could be on the all-new Cinemax Sports Network. You wouldn’t need judges for either; if you get knocked off your horse, you lose.
Fencing - Here’s another event that started as a military exercise, but lost it’s bloodlust somewhere along the way. Somehow, sword-fighting morphed into long-haired Europeans poking each other with car antennas while wearing spaghetti strainers on their faces. The answer here is obvious; give them back the real swords and let the chips fall where they may.
Field Hockey - Who actually plays this game? Outside of American universities and three teams in Pakistan, where does this game exist other than the Olympics? Field hockey is the Slurpee of sports; it’s amazing how the simple addition of ice turns hockey from lame to awesome.
Gymnastics - As a black man in America today, I can say with absolute certainty that other than some sort of pork product, American black guys love nothing more than a white girl with a great ass. Nobody has better asses than gymnasts, and just about the time I’m appreciating that, I’m reminded that most gymnasts are like 14 years old. Then I go from “interested” to “feeling like I should be in a cell next to Jerry Sandusky.”
As far as men’s gymnastics are concerned, it is a weird combination of simultaneously being awe-inspiring in terms of what those guys can do (don’t tell me you aren’t impressed with the guys that do the rings) while being nearly completely uninteresting after the “Damn, I couldn’t have done that 20 years and 10,000 Big Macs ago” moment.
Team Handball - I don’t know what this sport is, but I know what it isn’t. It isn’t your father’s handball; it isn’t middle-aged guys at the local YMCA slapping the piss out of a rubber ball in a racquetball court. Team Handball is funky mash-up that is two parts soccer, one part basketball, and one part whatever. I tend to stay interested in this for about five minutes, or until the “What the hell is this?” factor kicks in.
Judo - As a devotee of Judo, this is the one event that needs no tampering with whatsoever. The trouble is nobody really understand the difference between Judo and Olympic martial art, Tae Kwon Do.
Judo (“gentle way” in Japanese) is a modern martial art, where the object is to either throw or takedown one’s opponent to the ground, immobilize, or otherwise subdue one’s opponent with a grappling maneuver, or force an opponent to submit by joint locking or by executing a strangle hold or choke. Strikes and thrusts by hands and feet are not allowed in judo competition. In other words, it is a bit like the first round of Bully Beatdown; you can’t punch a guy in the head, but you can certainly try to rip it off.
Modern Pentathlon – Here’s another event with military roots. It was created especially for the Olympic by the founder of the modern Games, Baron Pierre de Coubertin. It seems that Baron de Frenchy-Frog was inspired by the pentathlon event in Ancient Olympic Games, which was modeled after the skills of the ideal soldier at the time. This is the concept behind the modern pentathlon. By replacing events like the javelin throw (When is the last time you saw somebody throw a spear in a war outside Africa?) with evenst like pistol shooting, the idea was to simulates the experience of a 19th century cavalry soldier behind enemy lines. Therefore, the events in the modern pentathlon are:
- Pistol Shooting
- 200-meter Freestyle Swimming
- Horse Show Jumping
- 3-kilometer Cross-Country Run
The thought was in order to escape, a cavalry officer of the time would need to ride an unfamiliar horse, fight with pistol and sword, swim, and run. But like the original pentathlon, the modern one is showing signs of age. When was the last time an American fighting man recorded a confirmed kill with a sword? This means we need the More Modern Pentathlon, with military challenges more reflective of today’s soldier.
- Rifle Shooting
- Anything on Playstation
- Beer Pong
- Soliciting a Prostitute
Rowing - This is the one sport whose entire action (short of hauling the damn boat down to the water) is replicated by one of my favorite workout machines. I love the workout I get from the rowing machine, but there’s no way I could imagine doing that repetitive motion for 30 minutes without a TV in front of me or my Ipod in my ears.
Sailing - It’s not that I dislike sailing, I just don’t know enough about it to really understand what makes one boat faster than the next. What I do know is the mere mention of the word “sailing” makes this damn song stick in my head.
Maybe Christopher Cross is just like his song and the event; I don’t get either of them. I mean, how does such a wussy song come out of a guy wearing an Earl Campbell jersey?
Shooting - See my comments on archery, and replace the bow and arrow with guns, and you pretty much get the idea. The two big differences are 1) guns aren’t an outmoded weapon and b) you can make shooting sports way cool again. To do that, ironically, all you need to do is go back to the way shooting sports were done before in the Olympics.
First of all, replace skeet shooting with its original variant, live pigeon shooting. Sadly, this event was only held once at the 1900 Paris Olympics. The return of this event would be a natural for London, whose Trafalgar Square is home to about 70% of the world’s pigeon population. Not to mention, succesfully hit targets could be used to feed the homeless. It’s really a win-win.
But the best idea would be to bring back dueling. That’s right…old-school, glove-slappin’, “I demand satisfaction” dueling. Olympic dueling was held only twice, and it involved competitors wearing masks and trying and to shoot each other in the face with wax bullets. Think of it as your great-great-great grandfather’s version of paintball.
Soccer - Yeah, I know the rest of the world calls this “football,” but the overwhelming readership of this blog (all seven of them) are either American (or worse yet Canadian), and if I say “football” they all will be expecting 350-pound leviathans in helmets and far-too-revealing spandex pants. The funniest part is those same Americanadians bemoan the lack of scoring in soccer, yet think a 1-0 ice hockey game is a thing of beauty.
Swimming - If you enjoy the boredom of running in a circle on a track combined with the overpowering stench of pool chemicals, then swimming is for you. Here’s all you need to know about swimming: the winner will be wet and pasty white. The stereotype is that black people can’t swim, but there is really no way of knowing since the amount of chlorine in the “water” bleaches anything it touches eye-scalding white.
Synchronized Swimming - Take gymnastics and combine it with the aforementioned pool chemical aroma. Not to mention, these people really aren’t swimming so much as they are auditioning for an Esther Williams movie 70 years ago.
Table Tennis - The day this became an Olympic event was the day the Olympics lost it’s last shred of credibility. What’s next? Olympic lawn darts? Horseshoes? 8-ball?
Tae Kwon Do - Think of this if Koreans had invented boxing. Then give it the Olympic treatment, meaning to make it so sanitized there’s no way you are ever going to see someone actually get their face kicked in, and you have Olympic Tae Kwon Do.
Tennis - Does anybody actually watch tennis anymore? I haven’t watched men’s tennis once they got rid of the fun guys like John McEnroe and Jimmy Connors and replaced them with these pathetic raisin-sacs like Pete Sampras and Roger Federer. Women’s tennis has been unwatchable since those two black guys took over.
Track and Field - We really have to find a way to make the running events less boring. Instead of running in circles on a track, let’s put $500 in cash on each competitor and make them run through Detroit at 2 a.m.
However, Track and Field owns the honor of having the single-most goofiest event in all of Olympia: Race Walking. Essentially, this is running without running; competitors must keep one foot in contact with the ground at all times, which gives this sport the distinct impression it was invented by John Cleese.
Triathlon - You know who competes in Triathlon? People who have a compulsive need to know that when the apocalypse comes, they will be the only ones who are still able to get to work because they can swim, run, and bike for a combined 600 miles or whatever ridiculous number it is.
Volleyball - Much like it’s beach bound counterpart, volleyball exists more as a function of it’s revealing uniforms and to further the perception I’m some sort of twisted ass freak. Either way, it’s time to make this sport nude, co-ed, and available on the all-new Cinemax Sports Network.
Water Polo - I suspect this may be the wet version of field hockey. Outside of large American universities and some various Australians and Central Europeans, I’m not sure anybody plays this sport; the closest example being in a pool and trying to peg your kid brother in the head with a wet Nerf ball.
Wrestling - There’s almost no sport harder, and almost no sport which requires a higher level of physical conditioning than wrestling. Having said that, there almost no sport which has a higher level of homoeroticism than wrestling. If you doubt that, let’s combine it with beach volleyball to give a charge for the “alternative” viewers of the all-new Cinemax Sports Network.
Now that we find ourselves at the start of the 30th Olympiad, it is time to get some facts about this quadrennial snooze-fest off my chest.
First of all, let me preface this by saying America is a nation of sports fanatics, and I am no exception. There’s no way I can deny I share in this immoderate enjoyment, particularly for baseball and college football, to an almost fatal excess. In the past, I had several girlfriends who did not share in my love of sports; therefore there have been times when I was nearly been gunned down by women who felt slighted by my total immersion in the spectacle of autumn Saturdays.
This is why anybody who knew me before the advent of Mrs. Dubsism would not have been surprised in those days to get news of the discovery of my dead body on my couch, with a satellite-connected television in front of me, a radio on the end-table with the play-by-play of yet another game, the newspaper stuck firmly between my ink-stained fingers, a podcast of sports-talk show on my smartphone, and a new .45-caliber hole in the back of my head courtesy of the aforementioned sports-scorned girlfriends. There were plenty of chances for this vision of my own death to reach fruition; I’ve nearly been fired at while watching football, cross-checked for enjoying hockey, and bludgeoned during a baseball game.
Through this parade of domestic assaults, I am still a sports junkie, and likely always will be. Thankfully, Mrs. Dubsism is also a sports fan; it’s basically a prerequisite for any chance at tolerating me.
But then there’s the problem of the Olympics. Mrs. Dubsism, and far too many other people arm themselves with a convoluted logic the logic that because I love sports I also am an ardent lover of the Olympic Games.
They couldn’t be more wrong.
While Mrs. Dubsism and her ilk mistakenly believe that the Olympics are the “high holy days” of sports, I can’t understand why these games are such a big deal. This spectacle is chock full of crappy events no one gives a frog’s watertight ass about, excluding an agonizing two-week period every four years. So, for the sake of peace in the Dubsism house, getting me interested in the Olympics will require that some changes be made.
[ASIDE: As far as the above picture is concerned, go over to Blog Surface for the cheekiest take on sweet athlete cheek.]
I’m not even going to revisit the issue of what constitutes a sport; I’ve already done that. Rather, I’m going to offer some ideas for improvements to current Olympic events.
Let’s start with synchronized swimming. For the life of me, I can’t understand why anybody would watch this. Don’t get me wrong; I realize that these women are finely tuned athletic machines, but I fail to see the sport in flailing around like a bass on the end of a hook. So instead of wasting a lot of some poor woman’s time training for this aquatic foolishness, why don’t we get someone who is closer to actually being a fish. They are far better suited for this with all those gills and fins. Maybe we could get Don Knotts as “Mr. Limpet” into this event. Or better yet, let’s Darryl Hannah when she played the mermaid in “Splash.”
This leads to another question. How come I never got to see her breasts in that movie? For the time I spent rooting around in the $5 DVD to find that damn movie, I felt I deserved at least a peek. But that’s a different story. On second thought, there is a link here. I’m ponying up a bale of cash for the satellite TV package that bring the Olympics to my living room; and while I’m spending more money, I’m getting less entertainment. That is not the way it is supposed to work.
So, if we can’t get Don Knotts or some sweet mermaid rack, then perhaps synchronized swimming could be performed in the nude. That way, I wouldn’t feel as cheated on my entertainment dollar, and this event may become a hell of a lot more exciting. This is the only way I think it is possible to add something to an event where contenders are determined by the quality of their nose plugs.
Whatever you do, don’t toss away those plugs, because you are going to need them for enduring the next odious item on the cavalcade of shame, the equestrian events. There is no conceivable reason for this to be in the Olympic Games. Who would even want to be associated with this horse-backed idiocy? It is almost impossible to make a bigger ass of yourself in the saddle of an otherwise beautiful animal, unless you happen to be one of those cowboy-hat, cowboy-boot clad rodeo dipshits.
But more importantly, the horses are the athletes here, not the geek on his back that’s along for the ride. But if he wins, does poor old Mr. Ed get the medal? Not a chance. All he’s going to get is put out to stud. Now, we don’t do this for the human athletes; this alone should keep the horses out of the Olympics. After all, fair is fair. The only way to make this equitable would be to change the medal system so that the winners got sex instead.
I firmly believe that the primary effect of this change would be nothing short of hilarious. Giving the winners unlimited sex would mean that newly post-pubescent fifteen year old boys would dominate every aspect of the Olympics. Just get ‘em good and pumped up by having them watch the new and improved synchronized swimming, then turn ‘em loose. A horny teen-age boy who thinks he has even the remotest chance of actually getting laid will roll through any event like the Red Army did through Berlin. In any event, it certainly would lend a whole new meaning to the phrase “taking a victory lap.”
Not to mention this change would have There is another great thing that this would accomplish. No longer would we have to concern ourselves with testing for anabolic steroids; the hormones these boys would be on are 100% natural.
But the epitome of ridiculous was reached when, to my horror, table tennis became an Olympic event. Ping pong, as it is known in the real world, is a game played primarily by third-graders in the family rec room, the nuts in the therapy program at the asylum, or by the dregs of society at the penitentiary. A sport made just to bring together all those Bart Simpson clones, the insane, and the criminally inclined. How nice. Realistically, aside from all the waifs, schizophrenics, and convicted felons, the only people who enjoy this sport are about 38 damp, slightly malodorous Koreans who have nothing better to do than swat balls off a table all day. Not quite the image that springs to mind when you think of world-class competition. Just flat out ditch this turkey.
As long as we are talking about which Olympic sports I think should be relegated to the trash heap, let’s finish the list. Number one is volleyball, regardless of the gender of the participants. I’m incredibly confident that I am not the only one who believes this, due to this set of facts. First, all the people who play this sport on the Olympic level played it in college, generally at the larger schools.
If you’ve never seen the inside of an arena during one of these matches, let me explain it to you this way. I’ve seen buildings that were on fire that had more people inside. A shining example demonstrating the lack of interest in this sport occurred a few years back at a major university in the city I lived in at the time. In an attempt to get some butts into the seats for a match that had playoff ramifications for the hometown team, the volleyball tickets were given away at the beginning of a men’s basketball game. The volleyball game came directly after the hoops, and in the same arena. To watch the volleyball, all these people had to do was remain seated; the ticket stub from the basketball game would have even got them a free hot dog and soda.
However, the basketball game ended, and the holders of 10,000 free tickets headed for their cars as if rattlesnakes had been turned loose in the building. If no one will even bother to go see these people when they played down the street at the local school, or when they’re already under the same roof and it won’t cost them dime number one, why does anybody think they will waste any time on this junk now?
This may surprise some of you, but number two on the list is basketball. As far as the men’s game goes, am I really expected to be excited watching an NBA all-star team pound the hell out of Uganda, or some other third world country which doesn’t have a prayer? Who really cares about the final score when the Americans have the game in the bag about twenty seconds after the opening tip-off? Worse yet, when this team is on the court, you can’t even do one the most American things imaginable.
In the same spirit which has given me life-long sympathy for fans of the Chicago Cubs (although I still heap derision on them for many other reasons), I love to root for the underdog. You pull this kind of stuff on “The Dream Team” crowd, and they will call you a member of Al-Qaeda and burn your house to the ground.
Lastly, Olympic basketball totally ruins another great American tradition. Did you ever try to bet on a game with an eighty-point spread?
The women’s teams are more closely matched, but who gives a shit? This version of Naismith’s game is just plain boring. When was the last time you saw a woman make the monstrous dunk to win the game with half a second on the clock; the crowd being flung into a frenzy? The big jam and the madness of the last two minutes are the only things about basketball that are truly exciting. Women’s basketball has neither of these redeeming qualities. Honestly, who wants to suffer through a two hour, low-talent, slow-paced game?
While we are opening the Summer Games today, the Winter ones need a mention as well; the third inclusion on this list is figure skating. It would be taking note of the obvious to say that figure skating just plain sucks. To draw a comparison, let’s look to the other rink-bound Olympic endeavor: ice hockey. Hockey always has two teams on the ice who are competing to score goals at the same time. This means that there is no need for a group of judges to decide who performed better. Hockey also does not need stupid music to make it dramatic. One guy with the puck on a breakaway does that rather nicely. Nevertheless, a couple of people prancing around on the ice in sequined, lace-frilled, outfits will always look less like sport, and more like a bad rendition of “The Folies Bergere On Ice.”
I, as a loyal sport lover, wish to see the day that the Olympics would be free of the dreck that keeps the real fans away. Until then, I will avoid at all costs being in front of my television for this five-ring circus. As a matter of fact, the only reason that I ever even watched any of these colossal wastes of time in the past was that it came as part of a package deal to keep one of those aforementioned women from killing me.
Speak of the devil, here comes Mrs. Dubsism now. She saw my Olympic-bashing, she’s got my .45 in her hand, and she doesn’t look happy.
Signs We Are Near The End Of Civilization: Ironically, Thanks To the Olympics, Going On An Internet Gay Hookup Parade In London Is No Longer Possible
You read that correctly. If you had intentions of heading to London to hookup with the gay Olympian of your dreams, you might want to make alternate plans. From the Daily Mirror:
A gay dating website crashed within minutes of the first Olympic athletes arriving in London – due to the volume of demand, say experts. The Grindr app enables gay men to obtain the locations of potential homosexual partners. Technicians believe the arrival of Olympic teams on Monday sparked a flood of new customers – and loss of the service in East London.
One Londoner said: “It happened almost as soon as the teams got here. Either loads of athletes were logging on to meet fellow Olympians or were looking to bag a local.
Yep, I only got as far as “bag a local” for my first “Beavis and Butthead” moment. Worse yet, it’s England; why not tea-bag a local?
“The Grindr system obviously couldn’t cope. It took 24 hours for the app to get back up and running, much to the relief of all concerned.”
Relief? We haven’t even hit the Opening Ceremonies, and there’s clearly already a lot of “hitting that” going on. Gay or straight, it really doesn’t surprise me that the Olympics might be a veritable sexual free-for-all. I’m guessing we only are hearing about this since the straight folks have every other app available to them besides Grindr. Either way, once these games hit full swing, you know this app is going down faster than Jenna Jameson at her first audition.
Grindr was launched in 2009 and claims to have four million customers worldwide. It just so happens London is the most popular city for the Grindr users, with 350,000 of them. Grindr advertises itself as a way to find “a new date, buddy or friend.”
Founder Joel Simkhai said in Los Angeles: “I want to personally apologize to users. I know it was frustrating. I was frustrated myself. I also rely on Grindr in my day-to-day personal life. It made me feel disconnected.”
Cue the porno music at “personally apologize” and insert your own joke here.
“Our tech team worked around the clock to solve the problems and to whip Grindr back into shape.”
Why do I hear this song in my head after reading that lest sentence?
Editor’s Note: Mr. Rockford is a private detective based in Malibu, California. We here at Dubsism have retained Mr. Rockford at his standard rate of two hundred dollars a day plus expenses to investigate matters of crime and other general shadiness in the world of sports, then report back to us when needed. If you would like to contact Mr. Rockford, at the tone, leave your name and number and he’ll get back to you.
Divorces in sports don’t necessarily have to be the actual and messy kind, like the matrimonial train wreck to which Frank and Jamie McCourt treated us. There have been plenty of on-the-field relationships that exploded in various states of severity, ranging from the “we can still be friends” style break-up like the one Peyton Manning and the Colts had. Or, it can be the “domestic violence waiting to happen” split as in the case of Terry Francona and the Boston Red Sox.
As a private investigator, I try to avoid domestic cases. But, to be honest, I’ve had to re-finance my trailer five times in the last ten years, and let me tell you those “balloon payments” can put a major skid on the wallet. That means whether I like it or not, I’ve peeked through more keyholes than I care to admit. That’s why J-Dub asked for my thoughts on ten notable sports divorces.
10) Joe Montana and the San Francisco 49ers
If you thought the Indianapolis Colts wouldn’t run Peyton Manning out of town, you forgot about the 1993 divorce between the San Francisco 49ers and Joe Montana.
Yep, Joe Montana, the four-time Super Bowl champion, back-to-back NFL MVP in 1989-90, and arguably the most beloved athlete in the history of San Francisco got handed a suitcase by the 49ers.
It all started after a “should-have-killed-him” hit by the New York Giants’ Leonard Marshall in the 1990 NFC title game. The 49ers were on their way to an unprecedented third straight Super Bowl, but Marshall’s jarring blow blew out Montana’s elbow, which not only ended his stint in this game; it would be almost two full seasons before Montana would see the field again.
The trouble is by then the 49ers had become enamored with Montana’s replacement, Steve Young. Not only that, but Young had entrenched himself as the starting quarterback and was the reigning NFL MVP when Montana was ready to return for the 1993 season. 49ers owner Eddie DeBartolo and coach George Seifert gave Montana the “run-around” as to whether he’d get a shot to compete for the starting job, so he demanded a trade.
At 37, Montana landed in Kansas City, where he had two good seasons; he took the historically insignificant Chiefs to the AFC Championship game in 1993. Young finally escaped Montana’s shadow by leading the 49ers to a Super Bowl win the next season. The story did have a “happy” ending as through a one-day contract, Montana had the opportunity to retire as a member of the 49ers.
9) Bobby Hull and the Chicago Blackhawks
In the annals of NHL history, Bobby Hull will be best remembered as the first player to light the lamp 50 times in a season and the first guy to hold a gun to the head of ownership for a big payday. Hull went for the big dough twice; first for $100,000, then later for $1 million.
The “Golden Jet” was the Gretzky of the 1960′s; he led the NHL in goals seven times that decade and took the the Chicago Blackhawks to the 1961 Stanley Cup. In 1962, Hull matched previous standard for hitting the twine with the 50 goal tally of Maurice “Rocket” Richard and Bernie “Boom Boom” Geoffrion in 1962, then Hull used his legendary slap shot to become the sole standard bearer with 54 goals in 1966.
With that level of success, it should come as no shock to current-day sports fans that Hull decided he wanted more money. He demanded $100,000 a year in 1968, and threatened to quit if he didn’t get it. in 1968. That tactic worked, and it encouraged Hull to do it again in 1972, only this time the price escalated. Hull used the fledgling World Hockey Association (WHA) as leverage, but this time he wanted $1 million, which was a ridiculous amount at the time.
However, the Winnipeg Jets jumped at the chance to land a superstar; they were more than happy to pony up $1 million per year in a 10-year deal. Hull had four more 50-goal seasons in Winnipeg, including what was a then-professional record of 77 goals in 1975.
In one fell swoop, Hull made a huge payday, solidified the WHA to the point it would eventually merge with the NHL, and became a major reason the Blackhawks would need 50 years to win another Stanley Cup.
8 ) Manny Ramirez and the Boston Red Sox
The Red Sox are notorious for bad marriages; they could be the Elizabeth Taylor of sports. It’s always amazed me how they ran Terry Francona out of town after he led that franchise to two World Series championships in four seasons after the Red Sox had gone 86 seasons as a bridesmaid and never a bride. But the list of bad Boston marriages could be it’s own blog.
Let’s focus on Manny Ramirez also fits that bill, but a good case of “Manny Being Manny” helps to explain why what should have been a New England honeymoon turned into a Boston bitch-fest. Manny took a swing at local hero Kevin Youkilis. Manny shoved 64-year-old traveling secretary Jack McCormick to the ground. Manny even pulled himself out of multiple games citing a knee injury that many thought was an act of protest because he was upset with his contract.
The Red Sox finally had a belly full of Manny and dealt him to the Dodgers in July 2009. Ramirez showed exactly why the Red Sox had put up with him for so long. Manny had such an impact with the Dodgers that despite the fact he only played in 53 National League games, he finished fourth in the NL MVP voting. However, it was the next season when Manny’s reputation began it’s major slide when he got popped for the first of his suspensions for violating baseball’s drug policy.
7) Shaquille O’Neal and the Los Angeles Lakers
It wasn’t just Shaq and Kobe who were battling over who was the leader of the team; the Lakers’ management was Pacific-deep in the same issue. Owner Jerry Buss and GM Mitch Kupchak were dealing with two show ponies and felt they had to pick the one they were going to ride following the loss to the Detroit Pistons in the 2004 NBA Finals.
In Shaq’s book, “Shaq Uncut: My Story,” he claims Kupchak promised him a contract extension during the 2003-04 season but then made comments that O’Neal’s future with the Lakers was up in the air. During an exhibition game, Shaq yelled to Buss, “pay me.”
Shaq never had a good relationship with Kupchak, and matters only got worse when he replaced Jerry West as the Lakers’ general manager after the 2000 season. According to Shaq, “Mitch looked out for two people: himself and Jerry Buss. The rest of us were afterthoughts.” O’Neal was traded to the Heat during the offseason and oddly enough, the next day Bryant signed a huge contract extension with the Lakers.
As an “afterthought,” Shaq won an NBA Championship the very next season with the Miami Heat. But Kobe and the Lakers would outdo that by winning back-to-back titles in 2009-10 after acquiring Pau Gasol.
6) Eric Lindros and the Philadelphia Flyers
Just like Mary’s little lamb, everywhere that Lindros went, controversy was sure to follow. After he flatly refused to play for the Quebec Nordiques, his rights were traded to the Flyers. Philadelphia gave away the moon and the stars, and possibly a few planets for the number one overall pick; the spoils of that trade and a relocation to Colorado morphed the quasi-lousy Nordiques into the championship Avalanche.
Lindros went on to become an All-Star in six out of eight seasons with the Flyers, yet by the time he left town, the City of Brotherly love had none for him. The end of the affair began on April 1, 1999 when Lindros was misdiagnosed by Flyers’ medical staff with a rib injury. Later, Lindros’ teammate Keith Jones found him pale and cold in a hotel bath tub during a roadtrip. The Flyers told the trainer to put him on a flight back to Philadelphia, but Jones insisted Lindros go to a local hospital. He was diagnosed with a collapsed lung and internal bleeding. Lindros’ father, who was also his agent, ripped the organization for its treatment of the injury and the two sides would never again be on good terms. get back on good terms.
Matters only got worse when Lindros suffered a series of concussions; Lindros heaped criticism on the Flyers after they performed yet another misdiagnosis regarding the bell-ringing he got in March 2000. After that incident, Flyers general and legendary asshole Bobby Clarke stripped Lindros of his captaincy and demanded he apologize to his teammates. The concussion Clarke insinuated was no big deal kept Lindros off the ice for the rest of the regular season. Lindros did skate again in the playoffs, but another head-shot ended his season, after which he was summarily shipped of to the New York Rangers.
Lindros did have a few more moderately successful season in New York, but he always maintained the Flyers’ medical staff helped to shorten his career.
5) Marcus Allen and the Los Angeles Raiders
Would everybody who had a feud with Raiders’ owner Al Davis please stand up? (Insert sound of floor creaking from everybody standing simultaneously). Marcus Allen is in no way the first or last person to have a feud with Al Davis, but his was among the ugliest. For the first few years , the marriage of Allen and the Raiders was of the story-book variety. Allen was a Los Angeles from having been a Heisman Trophy winner at USC, and now he was tearing up the field of the L.A. Coliseum for the relocated L.A. Raiders. Allen was Rookie of the Year and an NFL All-Pro in his first season. If that weren’t enough, Allen trucked the Raiders to an NFL Championship in Super Bowl XVIII, picking the Super Bowl MVP honors via his 191 rushing yards.
Then, the honeymoon cruise hit the iceberg, and the marriage morphed into an ugly, California-style divorce. Allen got into a contract dispute with the Raiders during which Davis called him a “cancer to the team.” Suddenly Allen, arguably the premier running back in the league at the time, found himself on ass-duty on the Raider bench, due to Davis benching him and using the arrival of two-sport phenom Bo Jackson as an excuse. Five years of this went by before Allen finally struck back in 1992 during a Monday Night Football halftime interview. Allen said Davis was out to get him and that he thought Davis was trying to ruin Allen’s chances of making the Hall of Fame.
The next year Allen finally got out of Los Angeles by joining the one of the Raiders main rivals, the Kansas City Chiefs. In Kansas City, Allen earned NFL Comeback Player of the Year honors while helping Kansas City reach the conference championship game.
In 2003 when Marcus Allen was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame, Allen buried the hatchet by thanking Davis in his induction speech.
4) Patrick Roy and the Montreal Canadiens
Roy’s downfall in Montreal was almost Paterno-esque in both it’s quickness and shock value. Roy was a two-time Stanley Cup champion, Conn Smythe winner, a three-time Vezina Trophy winner and a native son of Quebec. This meant Roy was beloved for most of his time in Montreal; the fans loved his brash and combative spirit and for 10 years he was a hero on skates for Les Habitants.
That was until December 2nd, 1995. On that night against the Detroit Red Wings, Roy got smoked like a convenience store cigar; he gave up 9 goals on 26 shots. When th score plummeted to 7-1, the crowd sarcastically cheered after Roy gloved a routine save. Roy responded by mockingly lifting his arms in celebration. After the socre hit 9-1, Canadiens’ coach Mario Tremblay finally gave Roy the hook, after which Roy stormed directly up to the face of president Ronald Corey and essentially demanded a trade Denis Lemieux-style. Naturally, this led to a shouting match in the locker room, and the next day Roy was suspended and the Canadiens announced they would trade him. One night, and the marriage was o-v-e-r.
Four days later, Roy was on a plane to the Mile High City, thanks to a one-sided trade with the Colorado Avalanche. In Denver, Roy would go on to lead the Avalanche to a Stanley Cup and Tremblay would only last one more year in Montreal. In 2001, Roy and the Avalanche won a second Stanley Cup as Roy took home his third Conn Smythe trophy. Before Roy left, the Canadiens were the greatest franchise in hockey. Since then, then have won a total of six playoff series. Some fans call this “The Curse of St. Patrick.”
3) LeBron James and the Cleveland Cavaliers
Here’s another case of hometown hero turned prodigal son who just ain’t coming back. LeBron and the Cavaliers had a warm, loving relationship right up until the end. There was no posturing and no public squabbles between the two sides in LeBron’s last year in Cleveland. The Cavs loved LeBron and seemingly did whatever they could to appease him, and he rewarded them with two MVP seasons and the NBA’s best regular season record in both 2009 and 2010.
LeBron clearly had his eyes on another suitor, and really nobody can blame him for wanting to leave. After all, Cleveland did nothing to live up to their end of the marriage which was based on winning a championship. LeBron lived up to his end of the deal, the Cavaliers did not. All you have to do is look at the supporting cast the Cavaliers put around James. If LeBron had simply left the marriage, nobody would have faulted him.
It was how he did it that killed him. If one were to imagine hosting a birthday party for a cancer-stricken wife, laden with friends and family, knowing full well this may very well be her last one as evidenced by the little pink turban where her hair used to be, and one used that opportunity to a) announce one is leaving, and b) introduce Tiffany, the 22-year old surgically built fuck-toy for which one is leaving, and c) stating Tiffany “sucks it” way better than the wife ever did and one can begin to understand why every Cavalier fan everywhere will hate LeBron James until the day he dies.
2) Brett Favre and the Green Bay Packers
Farve dicked over three teams, but for purposes opf brevity, we will stick the the first one, if for no other reason, he was a legend in Green Bay. On the frozen tundra of Lambeau field (fuck you, Chris Berman), Favre was a three-time NFL MVP who set nearly all meaningful passing records while never missing a start. He took the Packers to back-to-back Super Bowls and brought the Lombardi Trophy back to Green Bay since the man for who it was named patrolled the Packer sideline.
For that, given enough time, he will again be venerated in Titletown…once everybody who remembers his douche-tastic departure is in the home drooling on the armrests of their wheelchairs.
For years, Favre left the Packers hanging either by threatening to or actually announcing his retirement, only to come keep coming back. But after Green Bay’s loss to the Giants in the 2007 NFC title game, largely thanks to another late-game Favre interception, the Packers management had had enough and told Favre in no uncertain terms to either shit or get off the pot. Green Bay was ready to had the future to Aaron Rodgers, who had been patiently playing understudy to Favre for three seasons.
In what should have surprised no one who hadn’t been living under a rock at the bottom of the deepest crater on the dark side of the moon, Farve dished more waffles than an IHOP. He retired, but once again changed his mind, which led to an acrimonious and public spat with Packers’ general manager Ted Thompson, who both told Favre he couldn’t have the starting job back and at the same time refused to grant Favre his unconditional release, thus dooming Favre to the bench. Green Bay even went so far as to file tampering charges against division rival Minnesota fro talking to Favre about coming to Minnesota.
Favre forced matters when he reported to training camp for the 2008 season, knowing he was persona non grata in Green Bay. After an awkward standoff, the Packers traded him to the New York Jets. It didn’t help matters that Favre finished his career in Minnesota.
1) Jackie Robinson and the Los Angeles Dodgers
It what may be my original reason to hate the Dodgers, no organization treated a hero worse than the Dodgers treated Jackie Robinson. Not only was he unceremoniously traded after the 1956 season to the Dodgers’ arch-rival, the Giants, he was traded for essentially nothing after what he had done for baseball (the Dodgers got Dick Littlefield (a career 33-54 pitcher with a 4.71 ERA) and $35,000 for Hall-of-Famer and icon of the game.
The end of the relationship between Robinson and the Dodgers began ironically as an off-shoot of the dissolution of the relationship between Branch Rickey and the Dodgers. Remember, it was Branch Rickey who promoted Robinson from the Triple-A Montreal Royals in 1947 to break baseball’s color barrier. Unfortunately, Rickey lost a power struggle with Walter O’Malley for the ownership of the Dodgers, which led to Rickey leaving to accept the general manger position with the Pittsburgh Pirates. O’Malley wasn’t terribly interested in Robinson’s achievements, and to be fair, had noticed that Robinson’s skills were on the wane due to age and his worsening diabetes. However, O’Malley would later be loyal to many iconic Dodgers (see Roy Campanella), but for some reason Robinson was not accorded the same favor. Hence, Robinson was dumped.
In another indicator that the relationship ended badly, despite the fact Robinson had already decided to retire in favor of accepting an executive position the restaurant/coffee house chain Chock Full o’Nuts (good luck remembering that place if you are under 60), he took the trade so personally that he quietly cleaned out his locker at Ebbets Field and never set foot in it again before it was torn down, despite several events held there to honor the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Another give-away indicating the Dodgers and Robinson had mutually shunned each other was the fact his official retirement announcement was conducted through LOOK magazine instead of by the franchise for which he played his entire career. The Dodgers never offered Robinson any role within the organization, and despite his iconic role, they let pitcher Ray Lamb wear his number 42 before they finally retired it merely months before his death in 1972.
Major League Baseball retired Robinson’s number across baseball in1997. Players who wore that number before are grandfathered to the right to wear it. If Mariano Rivera ever pitches again, he should be the last player to wear it. In comparison, short of MLB’s Jackie Robinson Day where everybody wears number 42, it took the Dodgers 16 years to retire Jackie Robinson’s number.
With the release of the report concerning The Pennsylvania State University’s (Penn State) handling of the Jerry Sandusky case written by former FBI Director Louis Freeh and commissioned by the Penn State Board of Trustees, an emotional firestorm has erupted over it’s contents. If you’ve been a reader of this blog, you know this isn’t the first time I’ve addressed this situation, but barring the discovery of new and relevant material germaine to the story, this is going to be the last time. With Joe Paterno in his grave, Sandusky in his cell, and far too many lives and careers destroyed, the first and foremost of those being Sandusky’s victims, it is now time to look back, learn some hard lessons, then move forward while ensuring those lessons learned get applied.
I’ve said it before, and I will say it again…in fact I will keep saying it because at the outset of this situation, I said there were only two points which mattered, and nothing contained in the Freeh Report changes those:
- We as a nation must do whatever we can to protect our children, and we must be sure to do whatever we can to help and support the victims.
- We as a nation must do whatever we can to ensure this does not happen again.
For that matter, the opening paragraphs of my original piece on this matter still hold true:
The whole point of this blog from its inception has been to provide a unique view of the world of sports. More often than not, this has been done with a sense of humor, sometimes a thick sense of satire, and sometimes by being completely absurd. However, there are times where I abandon all pretense and speak in a very blunt and direct manner because of the seriousness of the subject matter.
Obviously, my discussion of what happened at Penn State will be one of those times. Frankly, this has been a time of great personal angst for me; it doesn’t take long reading through the archives of this blog to discover that I have a connection to the university and that Coach Paterno has been a revered figure in my life. Most obviously, this will be one of those times because there is nothing funny about the sexual abuse of children…
…Stopping this from happening again is the only facet of this discussion in which I’m interested, and it renders all the other aspects of the discussion utterly pointless, with the sole exception of examining them in order to understand the pathology of such horrible events…
…That’s really why I didn’t write this piece on Monday as the real ugliness of this story was breaking. But today, I feel compelled. Once I saw the grand jury report come out, I knew my personal feelings about Coach Paterno no longer mattered in this affair. I knew nobody’s personal feelings mattered anymore, but I also knew those feelings were going to drive the debate. This was going to cause a massive outpouring of those emotions, which I knew would need to be avoided because to get to the bottom of why things like this happen, we as a nation have to take a hard look at our methods of organizational management…
Like I said, those points all still hold true. The Freeh Report has in many ways managed to rip those aforementioned wounds open again, but this time it took the arguments whose facts were previously unknown and gave them a framework for which the time is right for the retrospection and soul-searching need to ensure…this does not happen again.
To that end, I gave the Freeh Report – all 267 stomach-churning pages of it – an exhaustive and detailed read, and for purposes of furthering the learning exercise I firmly believe this whole tragedy needs to be, I’ve broken it down to several points which need to be considered fully in order to further the previously-cited and exclusively important matters.
That leads us to the purpose of the Dubsism Report. This is not intended to be a rehash of the Freeh Report, although it will be heavily quoted. This is in no way a defense of Paterno, Penn State, or anybody else related to this situation. Instead, the Dubsism Report is going to amplify some findings in the Freeh Report, clarify some others, disagree with some, and offer material not contained in the Freeh Report to support the assertions of the Dubsism Report.
The over-arching goal of this report is to take an exhaustive investigation like the Freeh Report and allow it to become a learning tool. To accomplish that, the Dubsism Reeport will explore three main questions.
- How this really happened? Lots of material in the Freeh Report is being ignored by the media, and some people who have huge culpability in this matter are are “getting off easy.”
- Who is ultimately responsible? It’s easy to see how this traveled in the Penn State community, but does some blame travel beyond State College?
- What has to happen to ensure this never happens again? Ultimately, nothing else matters beyond this. There are some hard lessons in this situation which need to be learned by every single one of us. If we do not learn from this so we can better protect our children, we become meaningless as a society.
Section I: The Major Findings of the Dubsism Report
1) The Freeh Report Did Not Spare Those Who Commissioned It
2) Penn State Had Organizational Knowledge of the Sandusky Situation As Far Back As 1998
3) No One Person Was Dirtier in the Handling of the Sandusky Situation than Graham Spanier
4) The Citing Of The Clery Act Contained a Misguided Attempt To Blame This All On Joe Paterno
5) The “Moral Compass” of Penn State’s Leadership Was Seriously Mis-Calibrated – That Includes Paterno, But Not to the Degree of Spanier, Schultz, and Curley
6) The “Retirement Deal” Was a Death Warrant for Sandusky and Penn State
Section II: Matters Not Fully Detailed By The Freeh Report
1) The University’s Exposure to Civil Liability via the Actions of Sandusky and Spanier
2) The Misperceptions of Joe Paterno, Both in the Arena of Public Relations and Contained in the Freeh Report
- That For Which Joe Paterno Was Not Guilty
- Paterno’s Failure to Act Pales In Comparison to the Actions of Spanier, Curley, and Schultz
- Paterno Did Not Fail To Show Contrition
- That For Which Joe Paterno Was Guilty
- Paterno Knew More Than He Told The Grand Jury
- Paterno’s Biggest Mistake: Was It A Result of Misplaced Loyalty, Horrible Judgement, Missing His One Real Opportunity To Do The Right Thing, Or All Of The Above?
3) Guilty Parties Not Assigned Their Fair Share of Blame By The Freeh Report
- Dottie Sandusky
- The Second Mile Foundation
- University Police Chief Thomas Harmon
- Current Penn State President Rodney Erickson
4) How Paterno’s Death Changed How This Matter Was Handled
5) The Hypocrisy of the NCAA
6) The Diseased Culture of Penn State Was Mirrored In The Statue Debate
Section III: The Factual Legacy of Joe Paterno
1) Joe Paterno: The Man
4) The Ironic Fall From Grace
Section IV: Conclusions and Summary
1) How This Really Happened?
2) Who Is Ultimately Responsible?
3) What Has To Happen To Ensure This Never Happens Again?
It had to happen, and it only took a week in the wake of the release of the Freeh Report. From Yahoo Sports:
A member and former chairman of the Penn State board of trustees has resigned, saying his presence on the board had become ”a distraction and an impediment” to the university’s efforts to move forward following the Jerry Sandusky child sex abuse scandal.
Steve Garban’s resignation Thursday night made him the first board member to leave since the crisis engulfed Penn State.
Frankly, they all need to go. If you’ve read the Freeh Report, you know there is a detailed chapter on the culture of Penn State which allowed the Jerry Sandusky situation to happen. The only way you change a culture is to changes it’s leadership.
Garban, who had stepped down as board chairman after Sandusky’s November arrest but had remained a board member, was harshly criticized over his handling of the Sandusky case. Fellow board members and alumni had called for him to resign.
I love the calls from the fellow board member. Like I said, they all need to go. Today.
The bottom line of the Freeh Report is as follows:
An internal investigation by former FBI Director Louis Freeh found that Garban was briefed twice about developments in the Sandusky case but didn’t share what he knew with the entire board, depriving trustees of a chance to prepare for the worst crisis in Penn State’s 157-year history.
Freeh’s 267-page report portrayed a disengaged board that handed too much responsibility to the university president and failed to investigate deeply enough once it became aware of a grand jury probe.
After the report’s release, trustees accepted responsibility for a failure of oversight and said they were ”deeply ashamed.” Board Chairwoman Karen Peetz, who announced Garban’s resignation in a letter on the board’s website, said at the time that no trustee would step down, however.
That last paragraph shows the problem. The trustees “accept the responsibility,” yet are not resigning en masse.
Here’s Garban’s role in the scandal.
In April 2011, the report said, Spanier told Garban about a grand jury investigation of Sandusky. Garban, in turn, failed to alert fellow board members. Garban told investigators that Spanier downplayed the Sandusky probe, and he recalled his former boss saying, ”It was the third or fourth grand jury and nothing would come of it,” the report said.
Then, on Oct. 28, Garban learned from Penn State’s chief lawyer that two university administrators were about to be charged with failing to report suspected child abuse. Garban told investigators he was ”astounded” when he saw Sandusky in the Nittany Lion Club at Penn State’s home game against Illinois on Oct. 29. Yet he informed only two other trustees – James Broadhurst and John Surma – that charges against Sandusky, Athletic Director Tim Curley and Vice President Gary Schultz were imminent.
Former general counsel Cynthia Baldwin told Freeh’s investigators that she thought Garban, as ”conduit to the board,” would have alerted his colleagues about the Sandusky investigation. Garban told trustees he kept it from them because he was not sure that criminal charges would come to pass, according to the Freeh report.
That’s pretty damning stuff, but there’s so much blame to go around in this situation it literally boggles the mind. In the next few days, the Dubsism Report on the Freeh Report and The Post-Mortem on the Penn State Scandal will be released. The Dubsism Report will not only put the findings of the Freeh Report in proper perspective, it will offer some information crucial to the situation which was not covered in the Freeh Report. More importantly, the Dubsism Report will cut through the media bluster surrounding this situation to hit three main points.
- How this really happened: Lots of material in the Freeh Report is being ignored by the media, and some people who have huge culpability in this matter are are “getting off easy.”
- Who is ultimately responsible: It’s easy to see how this traveled in the Penn State community, but does some blame travel beyond State College?
- What has to happen to ensure this never happens again: Ultimately, nothing else matters beyond this. There are some hard lessons in this situation which need to be learned by every single one of us. If we do not learn from this so we can better protect our children, we become meaningless as a society.
Before you get wrapped up in pointless debates about statues and legacies, you will want to read the Dubsism Report on the Freeh Report and The Post-Mortem on the Penn State Scandal which will be published early next week. It may very well change your opinion of this entire matter; it will certainly change your perspective.
Stay tuned for further details.
To be honest, I’m not even sure why shit like this surprises me anymore. In a world why you can make a bunch of sperm-dumpsters like the Kardashians famous for no other reason than being complete skanks, why not a reality show about a disgraced baseballer-turned-felon-turned-quasi scumbag? From CBSSports.com:
I guess it was only a matter of time for something like this to happen. With baseball’s all-time hits leader Pete Rose exiled from baseball for life, stuck in Las Vegas gathering autograph and appearance fees, he’ll turn to TLC to stay in the spotlight. Yes sir, it’s a reality series!
So, apparently the recipe for a reality show is:
- 3 parts ex-celebrity (for best results use “C-list” or lower)
- 1 part infamy (a criminal record works best, but in a pinch garden-variety scandal will suffice)
- 2 parts Skank-o-rama
Wait a minute…we seem to be fresh out of skank. Never mind, it seems they’ve addressed that. Enter Kiana Kim (and I’m sure that Pete has. That joke was brought to you by Viagra…Viagra -Allowing 70-year old prune-dicks to fall asleep on top of whores half their age since 1998.)
According to Inside TV on ew.com, the 71-year-old Rose and his much-younger fiancee Kiana Kim — who has posed for Playboy, by the way — will soon start shooting a show with a working title of “Pete Rose and Kiana Kim Family Project.”
Let’s stop right here for a moment. For those of you thinking my description of Kiana Kim as a “skank” is a bit harsh, I offer you this: her own website. Now, after taking a look at that and given the opposite ends of the spectrum; one being “June Cleaver” and the other being “fuck machine for hire’” to which one would you place her closest? I’m pretty sure June Cleaver’s bio never mentioned her 36D bolt-ons or prominently featured her naked ass.
Even her own bio is laughable. First, as we said, it leads with her measurements. But it gets even better from there.
Kiana was born in Seoul, Korea and moved out to the United States with her family when she was of the age 5. She was raised in Los Angeles and left LA to go to school at Arizona State University. She recieved her BS degree in Business Marketing. Soon after graduating, she worked for Korean Airlines as a flight attendant. Currently she owns and operates a hair salon in CA.
Let’s be honest…Arizona State is even easier to get into than…well…Kiana Kim. I bet her senior thesis was about the advantage of giant plastic tits in a bikini at a car show.
But I digress…the real question is what can we expect from a geriatric gambler and his plasticine, silicon-stuffed bimbo?
Well, the report says cameras will follow Rose taking the family — which includes Kim’s two children — to the Hall of Fame (oh man, that’s sure to open a huge can of worms here, isn’t it?). Also, Kim’s getting a breast reduction, so that’ll be in there, too. Wonderful (please sense the obvious sarcasm).
Here’s more from Pete himself, via ew.com:
“She’s got younger kids and I’ve got [four adult] kids, and we go through the same things everybody else does: taking the braces off, making sure they get their education and they go to basketball practice or acting class. It’s not going to be classless — like it seems like a lot of reality shows aren’t really reality, but our reality show is going to be funny, entertaining, and real.”
So, let me get this straight. If this show is about Kim’s breast reduction, that means it will lose the two most interesting things it has short of watching the security staff at Cooperstown toss Rose out on his old, wrinkled ass. Not to mention Rose promises us that the show will “not be classless, ” which coming from him has to be a code-word for “crushingly boring.” A guarantte on the level of class is reallly reassuring from a guy who almost killed Ray Fosse in an All-Star game.
But it begs the question: What is really the point of this show? I’m waiting for an answer which doesn’t involve launching Kim’s future in porn and insuring every 14-year old boy in America will be playing an advanced game of Beef Strokin’-Off to this crap. (Insert cricket noises here…)
The good news for those of us here at Dubsism who intend to milk this Moyer thing for every goddamn drop: Jamie Moyer is extending his farewell tour. The bad news for baseball fans? It will come not on the mound, but in the fairways and sand traps of the greater Reno-Tahoe area.
Last Friday, Moyer accepted an invitation to play in this week’s American Century Championship at South Lake Tahoe. Moyer also played in the celebrity golf tournament last year. In a year which has found Moyer on an epic saga through the major and minor leagues; a season in which Moyer became the oldest pitcher to win a game in MLB history now sees him hitting from the tips with other sports luminaries such as Michael Jordan, Charles Barkley, , Marshall Faulk, Jerry Rice, Emmitt Smith, Shane Battier, Alex Smith, Urban Meyer, Ryan Fitzpatrick, and Miles Austin.
Jason Kidd will also be there, but due to his current legal situation, he will not be allowed to drive the carts.