The Equivalents

I realized (after the fact) that I spent most my last post ragging on the Sports Guy's laughably audacious attempts at distilling 25 years of Hip Hop into four individuals. I can assure you, I didn't decide to write that mini-diatribe because I'm some miserable hater. I understand the "blogosphere" teems with cynicism and self-aggrandizement, but I am emboldened by the fact that we here at Bowler and Benny usually zig when others zag. I enjoy Benny and Dirt's perspective because they are not only dear friends but also enlightened gents in my estimation. Their interests in sports run similar to my own, but so too does their outlook on life. Their words insulate me. That being said, the purpose of these lines are not to cast ham-fisted detractions toward professional writers. That's shooting fish in a barrel territory. It's lazy and ineffectual. Therefore, I'm going to dedicate this post to Hip Hop and Sports - two things I hold near and dear to my heart. I give you "The Equivalents":

The Fugees and Julius Erving

The Fugees dropped The Score in 1996 when I was in 8th grade. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard before. I played the whole album straight through instead of first skipping around to the singles I'd heard on the radio. It's the first time my capricious MTV-addled mind did that. When the album was over, I went back to the first track and listened to it again. As far as I'm concerned, that was the most influential hip-hop album that nobody talks about today. The early 90's scene (while talented) was dominated by harsh lyrics, ghetto themes and linear content. The Fugees deviated so far from what was previously deemed commercially viable hip-hop that it barely resembled the same genre as the Chronic. By selling 18 million (worldwide copies to date), it singlehandedly changed what major labels where willing to explore. There wouldn't be a Common, Mos Def and Talib Kweli without the Fugees.

Julius Erving is completely overshadowed by Magic Johnson and Larry Bird as key authors of the NBA renaissance. The ABA/NBA merger happened because Dr. J gave that ENTIRE LEAGUE legitimacy. He was the first true artist of the dunk. He provided the blueprint for the more athletic up-and-coming players to utilize their finesse and creativity to be effective in what was previously a stringently system league. There would be no Michael Jordan without Julius Erving (MJ has even said as much). Between 1976 to 1983 the 76ers only failed to make the Eastern Conference Finals once, making the NBA Finals four times and winning it all once in 1983. The NBA and hip hop would not be the same without these two largely overlooked pioneers.

Nas's Illmatic and Devin Hester's rookie year



Nasir Jones was 19 years when he made Illmatic. This poetic classic was forged by a teenager in the Queensbridge housing projects in Brooklyn. Devin Hester was drafted in the second round as a defensive back who ended up having 6 TD returns (plus one to open the Superbowl) in his rookie year. In two years, he has become the greatest return man in NFL history. Basically, both of these guys produced such stunning debuts that they will forever be tied to them. They both came from nowhere to redefine "excellence" in their respective fields. However, as a Bears fan, I pray to God that I don't have to sit through a "Firm Biz" and "Hate Me Now" before I get a Stillmatic.

Oh, and Dustin, thanks again homey. I owe you big time for doubling back and nabbing that jersey for me.

A Tribe Called Quest and the 91-92 to 94-95 Knicks (Riley Era)

91-92: Regular Season (51-31) Lost in Eastern Conference Semis to Chicago in 7 games
92-93: Regular Season (60-22) Lost in Eastern Conference Finals to Chicago in 6 games
93-94: Regular Season (57-25) Lost in Finals to Houston in 7 games
94-95: Regular Season (55-27) Lost in Eastern Conference Semis to Indiana in 7 games

During the six championship runs by the Chicago Bulls, only the New York Knicks and the Indiana Pacers ever took them to a Game 7. The Pacers did it in the 1998 Eastern Conference Finals when the Bulls were playing on fumes and were easily at the end of their "championship prime". The Knicks did it in 1992 when the Bulls were returning champions, battle-tested, incredibly focused and otherworldly athletic. I believe that the 91-92 Knicks team embodied Tribe's Midnight Marauders album. Engaging, dynamic and quite literally "a gritty little somethin on the New York street". The 92-93 Knicks took the first two games of the Eastern Conference Finals from Chicago at MSG. This was the only time during the six Bull runs that I was absolutely terrified that everything was completely fucked. This Knick squad had to be The Low End Theory because they seemed to have everything (the reputation, the five mics) except the hardware. Those New York teams were talented and still highly thought of, but I believe Riley's Knicks just turned up at the wrong time. Michael Jordan and Hakeem Olajuwon were just too big to topple, even for a great team.

I feel like A Tribe Called Quest suffered from the same circumstances. Although they went platinum three times and gold twice, they are only acknowledged as true royalty by avid Hip-Hop heads. When ranking the best hip hop of the 90's, they place high but never quite crack the "short list" which is where they truly belong. The early 90's hip hop scene created such a glut of phenomenal music that while Tribe was universally viewed as amazing at their onset, they seem to fade a little beside icons such as Biggie, Tupac and Dr. Dre.

Ice Cube and George Foreman

This one is so obvious that I'll just post some Before and After photos.









Jay-Z and Kobe Bryant


Kobe Bryant took an unconventional path to basketball immortality. His father, Joe "Jellybean" Bryant, played in the NBA yet finished his playing career in Italy which is where Kobe grew up. He went through grade school speaking Italian at school and English at home. It wasn't until his early teens that the Bryant's relocated to the Philadelphia area which is where young Kobe received a crash course in American culture. His skills were dominant at Lower Merian HS yet there was still little precedent for making the jump to the NBA as an 18 year old. Kevin Garnett did so a year before to much controversy and consternation, therefore Kobe's decision to forgo college for the NBA (while shrewd in retrospect) was actually quite risky. The rest, as they say, is history.

Jay-Z became one of the richest and well respected hip hop artists through equally unorthodox methods. While he was known in the streets, Jay-Z had great difficulty getting signed and onto the radio. He'd play shows all over Brooklyn and sell tapes and CD's from his trunk while commercial producers didn't even give him a second look. Unlike anyone before him, Jay-Z created his own independent label Roc-A-Fella Records to combat these early struggles. After much toil, he struck a deal with Priority to distribute his material. His first album was Reasonable Doubt. The rest, as they say, is history.

I also find it interesting how both Jay-Z and Kobe owe much of their early inspiration and success to collaborations with to two larger gentlemen (Shaq and Biggie). Just think it warrants mentioning.

Eric B. & Rakim and Joe Montana & Jerry Rice
Gangstarr and Steve Young & Jerry Rice

Two of the greatest duos ever. I also like the symmetry of this one because Guru and Premier were virtually the heir apparents to Eric B. and Rakim. Nobody could ever match Montana to Rice historically, but Young to Rice stood by itself as a tremendous partnership in it's own right. While it could be argued, I believe that the greatness each duo experienced wouldn’t have come nearly as close in another system or group. I also like the fact that the DJ's (Montana and Young) received prestige an notoriety for their abilities amongst their peers, however the MC's (Rice) were always the undeniable element, the certifiable lynchpin to the greatness. No ego. No hubris. No nonsense. They were just pillars of their time that will forever be revered and rightfully so.

Vanilla Ice and The 1976 Tampa Bay Buccaneers

You can't really blame either of them.

On the one hand, the Bucs were an expansion team didn't have the benefit of an expansion draft. They pieced their roster together from practice squad scraps from the rest of the league. Even their own coach John McKay (fresh from leading Southern Cal and O.J. Simpson) said that they probably couldn't hang with USC.

On the other hand, Rob Van Winkle was born with Vanilla Ice inside of him. You see, because he kept his composure every time it was time to get loose, that kinda forced him to be magnetized by the mic while he kicked his juice. See how that works?

Street Cred thy name is Bill Simmons

"Word up, Peeps!"

I’ll admit it, I still read Bill Simmons semi-regularly. I equate this practice to patronizing the same bar your good friend used to bartend at except for the fact that he changed jobs a while ago and you no longer receive drink specials. You already know the whole staff, the layout, the songs on the jukebox, the good nights to go and the best parking locations. While the reason why you started coming there in the first place is gone, the comfort level is such that you can’t completely justify finding a new gin joint. That’s what The Sports Guy is to me. I no longer walk through those doors with lofty expectations of a tremendous time, but I know that the history is enough to keep me in that seat. At this point, I’m basically just a mailbag and NBA column reader, but I’ll peruse the occasional Patriots or Red Sox piece just to work myself up. Here’s the problem, he’s no longer the “voice of the fan”. He’s the voice of the middle aged sports nerd still trying to be hip and relevant. He rubs elbows with Jimmy Kimmel and Adam Carolla while attending Hatton-Mayweather fights and Superbowls. He’s a Hollywood guy now who happens to write. (By the way, I find Carolla to be one of the funnier guys out there. I recommend podcasting his radio show for a week and giving his humor a chance. His rants and jags are usually very funny.)

Anyway, what leads me to rip on the Sports Guy is a question he answered in his most recent mailbag with an astounding degree of authority. This questions was posed to him by Adam in Hillsville, VA:

If they were going to construct the Mount Rushmore of the rap industry, who would the four members be? Keep in mind that it is the four most influential people to the history of the industry, not necessarily the four best rappers.

I find this to be a thought provoking question, but why ask the Sports Guy?!?! He continually expresses his admiration for Eddie Vedder’s musical genius, touts the Singles soundtrack as the quintessential music of a generation and peppers his columns with up-and-coming indie rock bands that he “recommends” although it’s fairly obvious that he plucks them from his most recent Blender issue. Besides being in his twenties during the 1990's, he has very little in common hip-hop. In fact, his overall presentation, style and verbiage is aggressively anti hip-hop. Obviously, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Just try reading a Scoop Jackson article without crying sad clown tears because this guy gets 2,000 words a week on “The World Wide Leader”. All I’m saying is that I would appreciate Kevin Powell’s informed and thoughtful answer to this question, but certainly not Bill Simmons. Let’s break this down:

You'd have to call it Mount Rapmore and, by the way, it's not a bad idea for a tourist attraction in Compton or Watts.

Because that’s where a lot of black people live! Get it!

Anyway, Tupac had the most raw talent, the biggest creative impact and the most fascinating legacy. He has to be there.

I agree with this, but I have a bone to pick with “the most raw talent”. What is this based on? The ability to flow, the lyricism, the style? It’s just a throwaway thing to say in my book. I have the most raw talent at emptying a room with my silent gas... prove me wrong.

Dr. Dre played a crucial role during rap's formative years, helped launch the West Coast sound, found Snoop and the Dogg Pound, pushed rap into the mainstream with "The Chronic" and showed everyone else how to sell out. He has to be there.

Ok, let me just say one thing here. The extended family of the Dogg Pound consisted of Daz Dillinger, Kurupt, Nate Dogg, Soopafly, RBX, Warren G, Tray Deee, Bad Azz, Lil' 1/2 Dead, Big C-Style, Lil' C-Style, Lady of Rage, Goldie Loc and Roscoe. That’s a .143 batting average. You probably could have just omitted them and strengthened your argument.

Jay-Z made the most money, bagged Beyonce and turned himself into a financial and cultural icon. He has to be there.

Based on this statement, I’m fairly certain Bill Simmons couldn’t name five Jay-Z songs.

As for the fourth spot, Eminem reached the single highest peak of any rapper; Biggie Smalls was the greatest freestyler ever and had the single most distinctive sound; and Public Enemy had a bigger influence than both of them, only you couldn't just stick Chuck D. on there because it would belittle the contributions of everyone else in the group.

Like Flava Flav?

So I keep coming back to this point: Biggie's major red flag was that he died too young, but if he had made one more memorable album, you'd pencil him in without an argument.

This isn’t a fucking Hall-of-Fame pitcher. He didn’t need another 25 wins. It’s fucking Biggie Smalls. He’s in. Christ.

Can you penalize him for dying young? I say no. Besides, you can't have a Mount Rapmore with Tupac and not Biggie when those guys are so intertwined historically. So Biggie would be my fourth pick for now, but it's up for grabs. We're an Eminem comeback album away from him knocking Biggie off and grabbing the fourth spot.

I...I quit.

When "doing what I want" goes wrong.

Over our long and illustrious history of video gaming and watching live and televised sports, AK and I have often witnessed athletic performances that are so profoundly epic that they we have created the category of "I do what I want". LeBron James dropping 31-13-6 on ESPN against No. 1-ranked Oak Hill Academy as a 17-year-old (allegedly). Randy Moss in Madden 2004. The autistic kid from Rochester (see below). Perhaps the man who put it most eloquently was Reggie Miller after his 25-point 4th quarter against the Knicks in Game 5 in the 1994 Eastern Conference Finals. At the Garden. Talking shit to Spike Lee. "I was in the zone." While this phrase is reserved for examples of organized competition at its most awe-inspiring and chill-inducing levels, we have also come to identify these words with a mentality that can only be described as absurd. Where the millions of dollars in adjusted gross income, the near-constant attention from the media and from fans, and the pressure of competition itself have transcended professional sports and have become a lifestyle. We have documented below when 'doing what I want' "ain't the best thang," as Dave Chappelle would say.

The most embarrassing athlete on the Internet.

Carl Lewis - "Break It Up"

Although Carl Lewis is more renowned for his horrific butchery of "The Star-Spangled Banner", this little-known celebration of spandex and synthesizers demonstrates just how far the rabbit hole goes. At first you're not certain what exactly this video is intended to accomplish. Is it an advertisement for one of Jack LaLanne's gyms? A promo for the United States Olympic track team? AAAAAH! It's Carl Lewis' application for gender-reassignment and an ode to his love of teamwork and world peace all in one! How did this get released to the general public? Some of the more inexplicable moments of this catastrophe include our friend looking confused as he bursts soap bubbles (:58), molesting a 70-year-old woman with oversized plastic sunglass in a jacuzzi (2:07), "sneaking off" with same woman to the sauna (2:42), and wiggling arhythmically on weight machines (entire video). This is the same man that came within sixth-hundreths of second of breaking the 100-meter world record.

I know this was the 1980s, but still, this is astonishing. I haven't even devoted time to the vocals.

Neon Deion.

Deion Sanders - "Must Be the Money"

In this monument to egocentrism, "Prime Time" himself allows us a glimpse into what he is like off-the-field. Which is exactly what he is like on it. How many of you were surprised that he watches himself dance in the mirror? Yeah, that's what I thought. I know there are many of you Cowboys and 49ers fans out there (and maybe even some aficionados of the Falcons) who believe Mr. Sanders belongs in the Hall of Fame as THE best cover cornerback ever. Certainly, there is an argument for this. But, as a football player, he was a huge, wet, dripping vagina. Anyone who watched football with some degree of regularity during the 1990s can attest to this as the motherfucker avoided contact whenever possible.

Maybe it's because "my hair is done, my fingernails [indecipherable]." If he's going to visit a stylist and get a manicure, it should, at the very least, be some sort of prostitute. Nope, it's a man. With large muscles and a sleeveless buttondown. Who undoubtedly gently carresses his head while he slips it in Deion's ass (not that there's anything wrong with that).

At some point during this video you'll notice that his lip-snyching isn't even close to the recorded track, either that, or he has no idea about the words to his own song. Unfortunately, I can't fault him for this as most of the lyrics are unintelligible. You'll also notice some suspect footwork (1:52) and a seizure (2:51 and 3:20). He made an entire album, my friends. Do not contemplate that for too long. Your brain may become vacuous and collapse unto itself.

A "wiggly" proposition.

Juan Pierre - Freestyle

Freestyle rapping is not easy. It isn't for everyone. In my own a weed-addled attempts at a coherent, adrenalin-sparking rhyme "off the top of the dome" amongst a small group of friends, I waxed poetic about the illest Civil War manuevers and sexual faux pas. I can't imagine the pressure that an amatuer must experience while attempting to spit hot fire at a World Series parade. Especially one who, for various reasons, has acquired the nickname "Cracky". So I can sympathize with Juan Pierre.

"They came to the bottom, they slipped, they slipped, and yeah we got 'em. And then we goin' ta Wrigley Field, I got the wiggly feel, we got them Cubs and you know it's all about dem loves. And then we wha? We went to New York...and then we came out and showed all our heart. Yes, we comin' down. And you know we rockin' steady, we comin' down, and yeah yes we ready..."

Ready? For what? The 2004 season? When Dan Patrick makes a sarcastic racist comment on live TV and when Linda Cohn (you can tell it's her though she isn't visible in the clip) is laughing maniacally then you should probably focus more on other pursuits. Like not making the most outs in the major leagues.

He is just as good at rapping as he is at football. I swear.

Brandon Lloyd - Freestyle

"In rap, I throw the ball to myself." That's because, in football, he can't find a quarterback to throw the ball to him. Not Mark Brunell. Not Jason Campbell. Not Alex Smith, Tim Rattay, or Ken Dorsey. Then he apprently flows into a diatribe against the media, knocking them for their criticism that he only plays for personal accolades and success. He then calls them "crackas" and let's the world know how deep his love for the Georgetown Hoyas really runs. I'm still trying to figure out from whence that came. I used to have an Othella Harrington jersey.

Rather than defending himself from these nay-sayers by rapping about how he occassionally blocks downfield on run plays, he would rather let people know that yes, I am not only in it for myself, but I also play for the money. And this is where I have an issue. If B. Lloyd were a potential Hall-of-Famer, or even if he had made a single Pro Bowl, maybe this video wouldn't piss me off as much as it does. However, he was never had a season in which he has exceeded 50 receptions. It makes me question who the real sucka is (OK, it's me because I haven't figured out a way to make "everyday Christmas" while demonstrating a consistent mediocrity relative to my peers).

In some respects I can empathize with him. Pause at the 41-second mark. I see the shame and hurt, B. It'll be ok, you can cry if you need to. At least you're not Charles Rogers.

Shaq is, indeed, alidocious.

Shaquille O'Neal featuring Fu-Schnickens - "Whats Up Doc? (Can We Rock?)"

This post is actually going to come as a surprise to AK (and to myself quite frankly). This is a rap song that I have enjoyed for many years. I can remember bringing the tape to elementary school in 5th grade. This track is off Shaquille O'Neal's breakthrough album Shaq Diesel, which actually was probably the most successful album released by an athlete. Unfortunately, the video itself is a montage of Shaq highlights (featuring the same dunk over and over and over again) and not the original.

Although the song brings a credible rap group to the table in Fu-Schnickens, this had to be posted because Shaq's lyrics are nothing short of mind-bending. Here they are. Shaq is fucking awesome and he certainly embodies on and off the court, an athlete that "does what he wants."

I'm the hooper, the hyper

Protected by Viper

When I rock the hoop yo, you'd better decipher

In other words you'd better make a funky decision (whoo)

'cause I'm a be a Shaq knife, and cut you with precision

Forget Tony Danza, I'm the boss

When it comes to money, I'm like Dick Butkas

Now who's the first pick? me, word is born and

Not a Christean Laettner, not Alonzo Mourning

That's okay, not being bragadocious

Supercalifragelistic, Shaq is alidocious

Peace, I gotta go, I ain't no joke

Now I slam it (what?) jam it (unh)

And make sure it's broke.

Athletes and Hip-Hop: Why Just Because You Can, Doesn't Mean You Should

Kobe Bryant

NOTE: THIS VIDEO HAS SINCE DISABLED EMBEDDING, IT CAN NOW BE VIEWED HERE

Now, I want to make one thing perfectly clear before we get to the lyrical stylings of Kobe Bean Bryant... I like this song... on many levels... I actually bought this single in high school because I thought Brian McKnight was smoothest, most righteous R&B singer in the game. I don't listen to that genre of music anymore, but I still feel that way. Now, the point when this song switches gears and becomes completely stupefying is at the 2:40 mark. Kobe emotes:

Your love's a sword slicing gently through my body
Burn so sweet, blood boils when you speak (yeah)
Makes me weak but I refuse to weep
Yet when I sleep I feel tears tricklin' down my cheek (c'mon)
Stay strong, pride telling me move on
My heart's fightin' me, forcin' me to hold on
Yours forever, fell for you beyond measure
Pure as ever, fazed by sins of treasure

The verse almost serves as an afterthought to the entire song. It's as if Kobe showed up at the studio, ready to spit a traditional 16 bar verse and after the first couple of takes a distraught Brian McKnight telecomed in from the mixing room, "Hey big guy, no no no, it's all good stuff, but, and I'm just spit-balling here, why don’t we just shorten it to your first eight lines and see how that plays."

Some great moments: Brian McKnight putting on a dunking display (incase you missed his skills during his multiple Rock N' Jock appearances), Kobe "talking with his hands", the referees/dancers inexplicably ripping off their tops, Kobe mouthing "what" once he's done with his verse (minus 20 hard-guy points for those keeping score at home).




Ben Gordon

[EDITORS NOTE: IT HAS RECENTLY COME TO OUR ATTENTION THAT THIS IS IN FACT A COMMERCIAL. OUR OFFICIAL POSITION IS... YEAH, BUT STILL] Um. Wow. I know. If you are a Bulls fan and you just watched that first time, it's time for a seat and some deep reflection. It's entirely too much to absorb right off the bat, you need time to digest what you just saw. Here's what I came up with after 20 minutes of gentle weeping, hidden away in my crawlspace... Professional athletes are the perfect storm of exorbitant celebrity, unmitigated hubris, constant image developing and droves of yes-men with access to recording studios. Now, we all know "that guy" who gets drunk and freestyles at the party. He almost instinctively tells himself that it's time to showcase his written rhymes after polishing off a twelve pack of Mickey's Big Mouths. That's fine. He's around friends and that private shame will only be known by those who witnessed it first hand. But sometimes, well, that guy has a nasty jump shot and he decides to rub some of his excess ducats together and cut a record. It shouldn't deter us from loving the way he plays basketball, but it should serve as a cautionary tale...


Some Great Moments: JUMPSHOTS! Breaking Newtons Law's/ Draining Balls/ Droppin' Jaws, BG casually marking up his rhymes with improvements at the studio, Push-ups?!?!?!, nodding white guys almost convincing themselves this isn't the worst flow they've ever heard.




Cedric Ceballos

"I don't give a damn WHO you play for, the Lakers, David Stern ain't out here, let's ball big boy." These are the immortal words of Ricky, the street smart, jive talking hoops hustler in... a Cherokee Parks jersey??? And that's only how it starts. As the video unfolds, we're treated to four minutes of the blandest hip hop ever. On top of that, the video is a cross between White Men Can't Jump and Skee Lo's "I Wish". Just let that marinate for a second. Now, I do have to admit that Warren G lends some minor credibility to this track (although Nate Dogg would have been better) and the flow Ced is laying down is disarmingly adequate if you're entering this endeavor with low expectations. However, upon further listening, it becomes painfully obvious that this is a second rate DJ Quik impression. As a lark, I looked up Ced's stats on basketballreference.com and was surprised to find that he averaged 21 ppg and 8 rpg while with the Lakers in 1994, being his one and only All-Star caliber year. Then I scrolled down and looked at the "Players with Similar Career's Statistically" section and saw the name Matt Harpring pop up more than once. That's when it all clicked for me. This song is the Matt Harpring of hip-hop songs.

Some Great Moments: Ricky's confusion as to whether he's supposed to be ripping off Sidney Dean or Mars Blackman, fully dressed "video ho's" (to use the parlance of our times) gyrating on the grandstand, MTV Veejay Allison Stewart's doppelganger asking Ced "How about a 68 and I owe you one?", "Flossin in my chevy with the wind in my hair/ But it's a westside thang, mic size thang/ Winnin battles ain't nuthin but a chicken wing/ I eat 'em one by one, good clean fun/ No need to bring a gun, come and get some."



Ron Artest

NOTE: THIS VIDEO HAS SINCE DISABLED EMBEDDING, IT CAN NOW BE VIEWED HERE

First of all, I think this piece had potential. If you remove the freestyling interludes and edit together a coherent take home message, this would actually be a redeeming social commentary. A heartfelt portrayal of urban street life. A first hand depiction of the dangers that exist in a very real and powerful way in the ghettos of America. Unfortunately, the freestyling portions remained and all you can think about while Ron is trying to say some real shit is, "What the fuck was that?!?"

I'm not making fun just for the sake of making fun here. I honestly do think Ron Artest (melee aside) is probably a largely underestimated and misunderstood dude based on his childhood and social disorders (in some way/shape/form). I think this video, more than anything, demonstrates that we all have demons which we must face. We must combat those things inside of us with our passions, those things we're willing to fight for, those things that make us feel whole. Luckly for us, Ron picked basketball and we benefit by witnessing his talent. Unfortunately, he also picked music.

Some Great Moments: All the freestyling, the sneaky way he compared himself to Bill Russell and MJ at the end of the video.


The 1985 Chicago Bears

Alright, there's a lot of ground to cover here. As human being, I'm aware that this production (while done in the mid-80's) is completely insane. It feels like they all lost a bet and decided, "What the hell? This is going to be painful so let's try and have a good time." As a Bears fan, I watch this with inexplicable amount of genuine awe at just how utterly perfect that team was on the field. When Sweetness, Singletary, Dent, etc are earnestly rapping into the microphone, all I can see are highlights and big games won. However, my mind usually wanders and starts wondering what if we put this into a time capsule - What would people in 2185 think of this? The answers I usually arrive at horrify me. Moving on...

I love that they made this during the 13th week of the season. What a bunch of cocky assholes. Can you imagine if that happened today? Mike and Mike (once the producers told them which sides they were arguing for/against) would have reoccurring conniption fits for months on end. Superbowl Shuffle ringtones would gradually chip away at our very being, destroying our will to live. It would embolden geeky white men everywhere to create tribute videos on YouTube. Basically, things would be up for grabs in the worst possible way. Thank God it's just a cheeky cultural reference instead of an insufferable piece of web junk, being attached and forwarded to every piece of outgoing mail.

Some Great Moments: Calvin Thomas "on" the Sax, Willie Gault's chocolate swirl (1:10), Mike Tomczak going WAY too far selling his rhythm guitar playing (2:52), Steve Fuller's stage presence reminding us all why he was a career backup quarterback (3:05), the two moments competing for "Most Awkward Dancing Ever Committed to Film" between (1:42) and (1:53), sticking the punter with the cowbell, the astounding whiteness of Gary Fencik (4:17), the fact that this song got nominated for a Grammy, I could go on and on...