The latest “worst scandal ever” has gripped the golf world this morning; there’s far too much hand-wringing going on over this Tiger Woods “Drop Heard ‘Round The World.” This bounding load of bull is being propagated by dickfaces like Brandel Chamblee from The Golf Channel.
In today’s installment of the Dubscast, J-Dub takes a critical look at critics of Tiger Woods, and reminds them just how much Woods means to the world of golf. Like it or not, Tiger Woods is the star around which the golf world revolves, and J-Dub makes some serious arguments to prove that.
If the mere thought of the “Dubs-eteria” doesn’t inspire gastronomic terror, then the following menu items certainly should. The only defense we can offer is that these dishes still aren’t as lousy as anything you can get at Olive Garden.
The Baseball Writer’s Association of America “Poo-Poo” Platter
It doesn’t even come with a plate. You give us $29.95 and our head waiter will act like an self-righteous asshole “poo-pooing” deserving Hall of Famers while having security escort you to your car. Afterward, our head waiter will post an article on your Facebook page telling you how stupid you are for disagreeing with him.
No, this isn’t another tale of a Brett Favre-like textual assault. Rather, this is a story of a cylindrical meat attack in of all places, a golf course.
A strange year for Tiger Woods took another bizarre twist Sunday when a fan was arrested for running toward the seventh green at CordeValle and tossing a hot dog in Woods’ direction. The bun barely reached the green. The hot dog landed on the putting surface.
Frankly, I’m glad this happened. First of all, we finally get a Tiger Woods story which doesn’t revolve around his allegedly imminent demise. In all honesty, I have about as much tolerance for the “Tiger is finished” story as I do for root canals with no anesthetic. Having said that, I’m also not willing to portray a guy as a victim who basically caused his own problems by tripping over his own hard-on. So, who is the real victim in this story?
The chucklehead who threw the hot dog is clearly not a victim. The guy who is making blogger hay out of this quasi-hilarious incident isn’t. However, we cannot overlook this incident as another clear example of bias against cylindrical meat. Face it, that poor hot dog had no choice it its fate; it simply was going through its happy, little hot dog life when suddenly it was suddenly into the forefront. I’m pretty sure it didn’t come out of the Oscar Mayer factory singing a little ditty about “My first name is ‘I-hope-some-lunatic-chucks-me-at-a-golfer.'”
Moreover, in a country in which we are all collectively being told we are a bunch of super-sizing tubs of goo, cylindrical meat has taken an undue share of the blame for our fatitiude. Hot dogs, bratwurst, and all the various sausages out there are a veritable supermarket symbol of America’s bloated waistlines. If you doubt that, just look back at sports most famous Wiener-Hate incident; the Milwaukee Brat-Bash of 2007.
During the Brewers’ traditional “Sausage Race,” Pirates first-baseman Randall Simon took out his frustration with his own weight issues by taking a Louisville Slugger to the head of Guido, the Italian Sausage. It’s time to stop the hate America. It isn’t Guido or any of his delicious pals’ fault you’ve needed to add three extra holes to your belt; Guido didn’t stick a gun in your face demanding that you eat him.
Beyond that, I hope the real irony in this story isn’t lost in all the cylindrical-meat-hating. Now, people are throwing their wieners at Tiger Woods; two years ago, he was throwing his at IHOP waitresses.
Let’s just cut to the chase here…everybody else does some sort of “Year End” list, here’s our obligatory ramble on what we consider to be the 15 most significant sporting occurrances in 2010.
Honorable mention: The Vuvuzela
What began as a seemingly harmless noisemaker instead became a symbol of what happens when you hold a world-class sporting event in some third-world toilet. I don’t care if it isn’t “politically correct” to say it, but the fact is South Africa is a crime-ridden shithole and holding the Wold Cup there was a complete disaster. Not only is the country a blight by even “poor nation” standards, but it is a ten-hour flight away from the nearest civilized place. Lets’ be even more honest; the reason why South Africa sucks is because it is inhabited by a bunch of low-rent trashballs ; its like every other country on earth rounded up their “Cousin Eddies” and dropped them in South Africa. This is why they had no problem at all ruining every World Cup telecast with the Vuvuzela, a two-dollar plastic horn which when pressed to the lips of a South African emits a droning cacophony similar to a cat stuffed in a bagpipe caught in a washing machine. It speaks volumes about a country that can make one of the world’s great sporting events almost completely unwatchable.
15) All The (Vi)King’s Men Couldn’t Put The HumptyDome Together Again
What else can you say? Combine a stadium built on the cheap, go even cheaper on the maintenance, and add three decades of Minnesota winters, and who could be surprised when this happens? Just be prepared to see this collapse as a precursor to your new Los Angeles Vikings.
14) Connecticut Almost Convinces Us Women’s Basketball Is A Real Sport
But only almost…thankfully, that winning streak finally ended at 90 games last night. Granted, winning that many games in a row in anything is impressive, even if the sport isn’t particularly so. Think anybody cares about women’s basketball? Then tell me how you did in your women’s basketball bracket at the office last year?
13) The World Shuns America At Its Own Expense
It seems nobody wants to play here, given the failure of US World Cup and Olympic Bids. Honestly, I get the Olympic failure since Obama made himself the face of the Chicago bid, and since nobody internationally has nay respect for him and since Chicago is America’s answer to that third-world shithole known as South Africa. But putting the World Cup in Qatar? Seriously?
So, we’d rather have matches played in an atmosphere of possible sudden-death political instability and 200-degree temperatures rather than to be in a country that would pony up top-dollar for this event? I understand there is some sort of Euro-Chic in hating on Uncle Sam now, but before you get to involved in such behavior, you may want to stop to check how many of those hated American dollars flow into such events, then imagine what those events might look like without any American investment.
12) The So-Called Demise of Tiger Woods
I really have a hard time with calling what happened to Tiger Woods a “demise,” which places me in direct contrast with “mainstream sports media.” I understand the guy went through a huge personal drama, and likely got majorly skinned in his divorce, but calling his drop from the #1 golfer in the world to #2 a “demise” is ludicrous. From Merriam-Webster:
Demise: intransitive verb2: to pass by descent or bequest <the property has demised to the king’s heirs>
So, Tiger Woods didn’t win a tournament this year. Boo-fucking-hoo. Phil Mickelson has made a career out of not winning tournaments. How do I become so “dead” that I still earn $1.3 million dollars? How do I become so “dead” that I likely will be the top golfer in the world again within 1 year?
11) Brett Favre Pisses Away His Legacy
How appropriate is it that the last image of King Brett I as a football player we will have is him splayed out on the deck, knocked cold slap 0ut? As sports fans, we may not have seen such a mythic figure bow out so disgracefully since Muhammad Ali…except “The Greatest of All-Time” didn’t sully his reputation with allegations of texting pictures of his weiner to some bimbo. However, in terms of a great athlete just not knowing when to go away, Favre’s huge career, his folk status, and a big chunk of his legacy with a purple arm and pictures of his “purple-headed warrior” all gets flushed simply because he couldn’t realize when the party was over.
Sure the Canadian hockey team won Gold; if they hadn’t, all of the Great White North may have collectively taken their final luge run. Face it, you really couldn’t have a much worse start to the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver. Hours before the Opening Ceremonies, Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili died after crashing during a training run. The lack of padding and protection on the dangerously fast Whistler sliding track was just the most consequential of problems plaguing these games; a mechanical torch malfunctioned during the opening ceremonies, an ice-resurfacing machine broke down at the speedskating venue, and snow had to flown in for the freestyle skiing and snowboarding events.
But once the media stopped fixating on what some dubbed the “Glitch Games,” there was some real drama. Canadian figure skater Joannie Rochette used her long program to clinch a bronze medal. What could be more dramatic than rallying from behind to save the dignity of a nation? Rallying from behind to save the dignity of a nation AND have a freshly-dead mother. ?Two days before the start of the short program, Rochette’s immediate female antecedent suffered a fatal heart attack. Rochette decided to compete anyway, uttering the nearly-standard dead-parent cliche “I know what it’s what my (insert parental reference here) would have wanted me to do.” After skating through her visible grief in the short program, the Canadian fans gave her a rousing ovation.
Why does such syrupy, cliche, quasi-bullshit make the list of such a hard-edged blog like Dubsism? Because after the emotional competition, Rochette pumped 21 words worth of pure truth into the moment when she endearingly eulogized her mother with the quip “even though she is not here any more, I’m not afraid to say sometimes she was a pain in the ass.”
America’s chances for a repeat win in the Ryder Cup looked slimmer than an Ethiopian on P90X, as the Yanks trailed by by three points going into the last day of this year’s prestigious team golf event. But during the singles matches, the Americans mounted a furious comeback against the Europeans. Even Tiger Woods, who was awful iafter his “demise,” throttled his Euro-pponent. The U.S. tied the tournament at 13 ½, with only American Hunter Mahan and Graeme McDowell left on the course. On the 16th hole McDowell was up 1 hole on Mahan. McDowell only needed to cup a 15-foot birdie putt to prevent an epic European collapse. He drained it, and Mahan blew the next hole, which forced him to concede the match.
8 ) The New Orleans Saints Win
Let’s not lie about anything here, if you wanted to define “shitty” in the history of a sports franchise, the New Orleans Saints would be in that conversation. However, they took a step away from that legacy last February’s Super Bowl XLIV. Funny to think how one gamble could payoff so big for a city that really doesn’t deserve it.
At the start of the second half, the New Orleans Saints trailed the Indianapolis Colts 10-6, and the Colts were set to receive the ball to begin the 2nd half. were set to kick-off. But the Saints pulled off an on-side kick; a maneuver that had it back-fired would have given the Colts excellent field position and a chance to put the game out of reach. However, the gamble paid off, the Saints recovered the kick, and the game’s momentum shifted in an instant. New Orleans marched 58 yards downfield for a touchdown, and went on to win the game 31-17.
“Four years ago who ever thought this would be happening when 85 percent of the city was under water from (Hurricane) Katrina,” said New Orleans quarterback Drew Brees, the game’s MVP, who completed 32 of 39 passes, for 289 yards, and threw two touchdown passes for a team that had been a perennial loser for most of its 43 seasons in the league. “Most people not knowing if New Orleans would ever come back or if the organization and the team would come back. … This is the culmination of that belief and that faith.”
Fuck all that Katrina shit. Fuck it with a nuclear-powered, reciprocating fuck stick. I’m so tired of hearing about what a tragedy Katrina was. The real tragedy of Katrina was that there was anything left of that absolute shithole afterward. New Orleans is the rectum of North America, and anybody who says they love that city should be forced to live there. When I was a kid, my dad’s job got transferred to the “Big Shitty” and it took no time at all for him to want to get out of that sleaze pit. The average mope who shows up to get drunk in the French Quarter for a weekend would recoil in horror of their surrounding if they had to get their mail there; most of them would be gone within six months.
If you doubt that, ask yourself a question. Look at all the sports franchises that have relocated in the past 40 years and ask yourself why nobody except for the NBA went to New Orleans. Granted, the NFL was already there. But baseball never went to New Orleans; baseball never even considered the “Big Shitty.” When hockey teams flooded the south, nobody went to New Orleans. Even the aforementioned NBA deserted the city in 1979 when the Jazz decided five years was enough, and the current Hornets franchise has taken seven years to end up being owned by the league and destined to relocate. Not to mention the Saints had to be given a deal to keep from leaving until 2025, although that deal is rumored to be chock full of escape clauses which make it entirely possible they depart for another city in the next five years.
The most memorable moment of the World Cup tournament came from the Uruguay/Ghana match. Near the end of extra time in their quarterfinal match with the game tied 1-1, the safe bet was the teams were headed for penalty kicks. Yet Ghana had one last chance to score, on a free kick, and the set piece was a beauty. The ball was delivered towards the goal box, then headed across four Uruguay defenders before the Uruguay keeper batted it down. On the rebound, a Ghanian had a clear shot at the goal, but Uruguay forward Luis Suarez positioned himself perfectly in front of the net to knock this flick off his leg. This rebound floated to the head of Ghana’s Dominic Adiyiah, who quickly batted it back towards the net. This time, Suarez had no defense but his hand. This intentional foul gave Ghana a penalty kick, and what looked like an improbable win. A World Cup’s worth of suspense and improbability unfolded over these ten seconds in South Africa.
Then things got even more unreal. Ghana’s best player, Asamoah Gyan, shanked the penalty kick that would have sent an African nation to its first World Cup semifinal, breaking a continent’s heart. Uruguay eventually won on penalty kicks, turning Gyan into the World Cup equivalent of Scott Norwood.
The only, and I mean only reason this gets on this list is timing. Blown calls happen all the time, but this one happened to be out #27 of what should have been a perfect game. When Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga crossed first base with the ball in his glove in the top of the ninth against the Cleveland Indians on June 2 everyone knew he had just completed a perfect game. Everyone, that is, except the umpire.
To the amazement of everyone watching, Jim Joyce ruled that Cleveland’s Jason Donald had actually just beaten Galarraga to the bag after hitting a grounder to the right of Tigers first baseman Miguel Cabrera. You didn’t need the replay except as validation, it was simply a blown call made at the end of a game. How many perfect games got snuffed by a bad call in the third inning? Nobody knows because nobody pays attention to such an event until the seventh.
Rarely has a half-court heave carried the vanquished hopes of so many underdogs. With 3.6 seconds left in the men’s college basketball championship between perennial power and heavy favorite Duke, and small-school underdog Butler playing in front of hometown fans in Indianapolis — it was a script straight out of the movie Hoosiers — Duke clung to a two-point lead. On a second free throw, Duke coach Mike Krzyzewski ordered Brian Zoubek to miss , since Butler had no timeouts left, and thus wouldn’t be able to set up a last second-play.
Coach K is a bonafide Hall of Famer, but that strategy was atrocious. The intentional miss gave Butler a chance to win, and the Bulldogs took full advantage. Butler’s Gordon Hayward pulled down the rebound, and dribbled toward half-court: teammate Matt Howard delivered a brutal screen on Duke’s Kyle Singler, giving Hayward a clean look at the hoop. Hayward’s running half-court shot seemed to hang in the air forever. When it finally came down, right on line, many a fan’s gut feeling had it going in. But it bounced off the backboard, and jetted past the rim, and Kryzyzewski won his fourth national title on one of the worst decision is his career.
This is an issue that defines the term “double-edged sword.” On one side, you have a definite need to protect players in an era where we are discovering the long-term physical and mental damage caused by football violence. On the other, you have a sports that actively markets such violence. Rather than continue to walk the tightrope, the NFL acted aggressively, telling players that the league would increase fines and issue suspensions for those who violated safety rules which have actually been in place for several years. The problem is that in the process, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell showed himself to be both a hypocrite and an authoritarian, autocratic leader. This change was brought about by complete executive fiat; there was no warning, there was no consideration of the impact, there was just “do it or else.” This led to a lot of cry-babyism from defensive players, however the larger issue is this has proven to be a wedge issue between the players and the league at a time when the league finds itself perilously close to a work stoppage. Making the matter even worse is that these punishments are being levied in the name of player safety, a claim that rings hollow with players as the league threateend to eliminate health coverage for player as part of the new collective bargaining agreement.
Certain sports milestones seem simply unreachable; Joe DiMaggio’s 56-game hitting streak, or Wilt Chamberlain’s 100-point game. In cricket, it’s the one-day double-hundred; no man had ever produced 200 runs for his team during a one-day international match. However, in February, India’s Sachin Tendulkar hit the magic milestone against a powerful South African squad. Tendulkar smacked three “sixes” — the cricket equivalent of a home run — during his epic performance. When he reached 199, the home crowd in Gwalior waved Indian flags, and roared, knowing they were about to witness history. The diminutive Tendulkar, dubbed “The Little Master,” slapped a single past the South African fielders. The world’s 1.5 billion cricket fans had a moment they’d never forget. Tendulkar removed his helmet and raised his arms toward the sky. “Take a bow, master,” said television commentator Ravi Shastri, himself a former cricket star for India. “Aw, you little champion,” his partner, former New Zealand cricketeer Danny Morrison chimed in. “If there was ever one deserving to break this milestone, this Everest, it is certainly Sachin Tendulkar.”
You’ll never a tennis score like it again: 6-4, 3-6, 6-7 (7), 7-6 (3), 70-68. At Wimbledon this June, American John Isner and Nicholas Mahut of France played a fifth set headed for infinity, thanks to Wimbledon’s shunning of fifth-set tiebreakers. In all, their historic first-round match lasted a record 11 hours and five minutes, and had to be played over the course of three days. It was the longest match in tennis history, and during the 138th game of the fifth set, Isner stroked a backhand winner down the line to finally break Mahut’s serve, ending the match.
It says something about Americans’ priorities that one evening in July, some 10 million people tuned into ESPN, dying to know what color uniform a guy would wear next year. As absurd as the spectacle seemed, it was simply the culmination of a year in which the NBA buzzed loudest off the court, as the summer free-agent frenzy sparked endless speculation about where stars like LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh, and Amar’e Stoudemire would land. The homegrown Cleveland Cavalier superstar chose to announce his intention to join buddies Wade and Bosh in Miami on a nationally-televised ESPN special, pompously dubbed “The Decision.” James said he was doing the cable special for charity, donating the show’s advertising revenue to the Boys & Girls Clubs of America.
But after James dumped the Cavs on national television in front of an in-studio audience of kids from the Greenwich, CT Boys and Girls Club, with the now-infamous words “I’m going to take my talents to South Beach,” his popularity took a hefty hit. The backlash was quite stunning, especially since James had made few, if any, public relations errors in his wildly successful career. He did, however, win some sympathy when Cleveland owner Dan Gilbert, within hours of James’ announcement that he was signing with the Heat, released an invective-filled letter to Cavs fans (some of whom were burning LeBron jerseys in the streets), in which he called James “narcissistic” and accused him of “cowardly betrayal.”
For a guy looking to win a championship or two, bailing on the Cavs was probably smart. But LeBron’s “Decision” was a public-relations disaster.
It may be that I finally have become the grumpy old man (it doesn’t help that I idolize Joe Paterno), but given some recent past events, I think we are witnessing the destruction of what was once the wonder of sports. Honestly, I’m a middle-aged guy whose formative years were in the late 70’s and early 80’s when sports still held a mystique; when a larger-than-life sporting event was such on its own merits, not because some media monolith created it. Look at the things that have changed in the past few decades; it doesn’t take long to realize all of them either have had or will have a deleterious effect so profound that they cannot help but to destroy sports as we knew it.
The Rise of NASCAR
I don’t care what anybody says, NASCAR is not a sport. A while ago, I wrote a piece that offered a hard definition as to what constituted a “true” sport. While this definition was applied to Olympic events, one can easily measure any activity against these criteria:
- It must contain at least 1 element requiring true athleticism; it must not be only the mastery of a particular skill.
- It must require the athlete to actively expend the energy to perform that athleticism.
- It must contain the element of competition with an objective scoring method used to determine a winner.
NASCAR clearly can’t pass the first two criteria, therefore it isn’t a sport. Calling it a sport when it isn’t leads to this fascination we have with treating race car drivers as athletes. They aren’t. We knew that 30 years ago. If you remember the sports show “The Battle of the Superstars,” then you remember the weak performances turned in by the old-school race car drivers like Tom Sneva. Call me crazy, but calling a guy an “athlete” who can’t even ride a bike without wheezing like an old vacuum cleaner contributes to the reason why we have so many fat kids in this country.
Worse yet is the fact there is nothing more mind-numbing than four hours of watching cars drive in a circle. The people who would tell you there is strategy in NASCAR are on the same level as those people who think Texas Hold ‘Em is a game of pure skill. Want to know all you need to know about the strategy of NASCAR? Just remember the following three points:
- Go fast.
- Turn left.
- Try not to crash.
In other words, the rise of NASCAR represents the complete devaluation of what a sport is.
Records Are Now Meaningless
The NFL and Major League Baseball are clearly out to destroy their record books. The NFL, now that it is the most popular league in America is out for world domination. Not only are they looking to export the product to distant shores (see this Sunday’s 49er-Bronco tilt at London’s Wembley Stadium), but the league would really like to have an 18-game season. This means that every single-season record of note will be gone by 2016. For example, nobody remembers an all-time great like George Blanda, and soon no one will remember Dan Marino, who was the greatest pure passer ever. Look what the 16-game schedule did for us; it made a marginally-better-than-mediocre quarterback like Brett Favre the all-time passing leader.
If you doubt that, go look at Kerry Collins’ career stats. As of this writing, Collins needs only 847 passing yards to join the elite “40,000-yard club.” This club only has 11 members, out of which there are seven Hall-of-Famers; out of the four that aren’t (Brett Favre, Peyton Manning, Drew Bledsoe, and Vinny Testaverde) you know at least two of those guys are flocks to be inducted. Seriously, Kerry Collins is in this class?
As for baseball, you can thank the butt-loaf sports writers for the devaluation of its record book. Before the strike in 1994, every writer in this country was pissing and moaning about the “plodding pace” of baseball. Then all of a sudden came the barrage of home runs and the obvious steroid use, which was completely ignored by those same writers until they decided they wanted to destroy Barry Bonds. The problem was that once the let the steroid genie out of the bottle, they couldn’t get it back in. Now they are crying about the stale nature of a game full of pitcher’s duels. The real problem is that every guy who breaks a record from now on will be suspected of being a performance-enhancing drug user, and the guy who competed clean during the “steroid era” will be discounted because of the tainted time in which he played.
We’ve Ruined The Best Sporting Event We Had
March Madness, also known as the NCAA Basketball Tournament, was the greatest sporting event ever until the NCAA decided that greed trumps quality. When the tournament went to the 64-team format, it achieved a symmetry and a convergence with the television coverage that next thing you know, everybody is filling out one of those brackets and running around the office saying things like “Purdue in the Final Four? Are you on drugs?” Now that the tournament is going to be expanded to 96 teams, gone are the days of upsets and “Cinderellas” in the first round. Now with this “let everybody in” expansion, our televisions screens come March will be full of crappy games matching crappy teams with crappy outcomes. Plus, now there is absolutely no reason at all to watch regular-season college basketball.
Just Because Racism Has Gone Underground Doesn’t Mean Its Gone
There are two kinds of racism left in the sports world. Gone are the days of the “straightforward” type, where people would tell you to your face they aren’t hiring you because you are black. As a black guy, I have to say I miss those days because at least you knew where you stood. Now what’s left is even more insidious.This is the part that is going to piss people off because to explain this means calling out both sides of the American racism spectrum. America is a country where disingenuous white liberals control the debate on race because they are disproportionately represented in the media and on college campuses; the same people who preach tolerance and understanding are the same ones who fire a guy like Juan Williams for raising a legitimate point of discussion and who won’t hire Turner Gill as a football coach because he has a white wife.
Take a good look at the picture above. While you are taking that look, ask yourself a question. Golfers are second only to NBA players in terms of being devotees of extra-marital activity. In other words, finding a golfer who is cheating on his wife is like finding sand in a bunker. This is why five years from now, this will all be a distant memory and Woods will be back to his endorsements and appearance fees. The real question is why did the same writers who made such a point of wringing their hands over steroids ignore Woods’ alleged steroid use and choose to focus on the complete non-story of Woods’ infidelity? I’m sure it isn’t because the majority of our sports media is comprised of those “tolerant” types who fire a guy like Juan Williams for raising a legitimate point of discussion and who won’t hire Turner Gill as a football coach because he has a white wife.
This leads us to the second type of racism left in the world, which is the type conjured up by black people whenever they don’t want to take the heat for something they did. This, of course leads us to LeBron James…
The NBA Is Two Steps Away From Being Pro Wrestling
…who is the classic example of a guy who paints everything with a racist brush just because he didn’t get his way. Pretty soon, guys like him will be calling referees racist for blowing calls.
I would like to thank you, LeBron James, for symbolizing the beginning of the end of what once was a great era in sports. Now thanks to you, we’ve started the slide to where the ACLU will be involved in instant replay reviews in all sports and basketball becomes just so much scripted sport-a-tainment. Seriously, the WWF was the only other place where you saw guys gang up to take on the likes of The Road Warriors. Pretty soon, LeBron will be smacking Kevin Durant with a metal folding chair and Chris Bosh will be decking Pao Gasol with a roll of quarters hidden in his tights.
Now that 2009 is in the books, it is time to recognize some truly great achievements in the world of sport that may otherwise go unnoticed. With that, I give you the 2009 Dubsy Awards.
The Mickey Klutts Award for Unfortunate Naming
It is bad enough to be accused of being a male hiding in a female body. It is worse to then be accused of being a hermaphrodite. And it can’t help to be both and have the word “semen” in your name. Which means there was really no choice but to give this award to South African runner Caster Semenya.
The Bobby Knight Award for Achievements in Dramatic Public Meltdowns
While there were several grand moments from which to choose, for me there was none better than the game-losing missed field goal by South Carolina against Georgia that obviously ripped Carolina coach Steve Spurrier’s guts out. While lacking in exuberance, this moment has all the subtle nuances that make genuine anguish so delicious. It’s that moment when the fall from grace is complete; dominance is now irrelevance, and the last vestiges of respectability are gone. You could tell then this was the moment Spurrier quit caring.
The defining moment – the Georgia state troopers fist-bumping as the Ol’ Ball Coach tests the bursting strength of his adult diaper.
Most mascots on horses are meant to be somewhat intimidating. Both the Trojans and the Seminoles offer a guy with some sort of weapon thundering at you on horseback. The Virginia Cavaliers attempted this same scariness, because honestly, what’s more intimidating than a guy in a big, feathery hat? How about one that does an equine faceplant?
The Budd Dwyer Award for Excellence in Career Suicide
There was really no other choice but Oregon running back LeGarrette Blount for punching a Boise State player and offering to take on the whole stadium after he failed to back up his trash-talking on the field. Granted, there was a lot of talk about Tiger Woods, but in the end we knew that story was simply about just another rich guy who can’t keep it in his pants.
By failing to exercise even the slightest bit of self-control, Blount cost himself most of a season on the field and likely reduced his draft stock to meager/non-existent levels.
The Ed Hochuli Award for the Best Call
Sometimes, you don’t even have to be animate to win a Dubsy. This highway sign reflects the immortal words of Jerry Reed, “When you’re hot, you’re hot.”
The Jason Sehorn Award for Being Completely Overrated
Given annually to the player who has become the biggest hero on the least accomplishment, thus making one wonder why said player is so popular. Despite that the namesake of this award was a New York Giant and married to a TV star, he was really best known for being the last white cornerback in the NFL, meaning you saw his name a lot on the back of his jersey as he was chasing another receiver who toasted his ass.
This year’s recipeient continues the tradition of this award’s winner being a defensive “star” in the NFL. The combination of the early season-ending injury to three-time Sehorn award winner Brian Urlacher and the fans of the Minnesota Vikings’ inexplicable love affair with a drunkard dime-store cowboy means the 2009 Sehorn Award belongs to Jared Allen.
Make no mistake about this douchebag’s over-rated nature. He piles up sack numbers against injury replacements or teams that are just flat out sorry like the Lions and the Rams, then becomes a complete non-factor against even moderate offensive line talent. He also is completely useless against the run regardless of the caliber of talent facing him.
It matters little as his drinking problem leaves him one relapse away from his 4th DUI and subsequent suspension from the league.
The Clinton-Nixon Award for Cover-Up Futility
The following three quotes are perfect examples of lies so preposterous they gave away the whole story.
“I did not have sexual relations with that woman.” – Bill Clinton
“I am not a crook.” – Richard Nixon
“I broke the window with a golf club to help get my husband out of the car.” – Elin Woods
Face it, we were all willing to let the whole Tiger Woods car accident thing go as a big “whatever” until we heard that lie. This was the statement that made you wonder why would a guy be fleeing his own house barefoot at three in the morning? Because he was being chased by his wife who wanted to part his hair with a 7-iron. Now, we all know why she was so interested in rearranging his skeletal structure.
The Artis Gilmore Award for Achievements in Hair Boldness
Granted, there is some wild hair going on in professional sports today; a lot of it being just the massive amount of locks sported by the Troy Polamalus of the world. But hair has always been an area of individual expression in the team sport world.
Back in the day, it was Artis Gilmore who broke the mold by being the first to sport the ridiculously huge afro. Sure, that look propagated itself, and is even paid homage to today (e.g. Ben Wallace), but the Dubsy awards committee has always recognized the trend-setter or the convention-breaker.
Hence, one man stands alone with the audacity to embrace the platinum “Fro-Hawk.” The tip of the hat that should be hiding this hair goes to Chad Ochocinco.
The Kyle Orton Award for Achievements in Partying
Really, this is the one award we here at Dubsism would love to give to ourselves. Who would wouldn’t want to be recognized for good, old-fashioned partying fun that doesn’t come at the expense of others?
But this award really begs the question: How much does somebody need to acheive before they deserve to unwind a bit? Does one need to cure cancer, walk on the moon and win a Super Bowl for the Minnesota Cubs Vikings before puritanical America will cut them a break? Everybody hopped on Michael Phelps’ back for smoking a little doobage despite the fact that he is the antithesis of all those anti-drug commercials.
Face it, the guy didn’t spend his whole damn life eating microwave burritos and sponging off his parents; he won enough Olympic gold to give Fort Knox penis envy. Enjoy your award and your next party Michael Phelps. You deserve all the bong hits you want.