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.

Strolling into the slaughter

I’m going to the Virginia/UNC game tonight at the John Paul Jones Arena and I honestly don’t know why. It seems like a no-brainer right? Hanbrough. Lawton. Ellington. Singletary. Big game. Well, as it stands now, everything is not well in Hooville.


This 2007-08 UVa team is almost a carbon copy of the 2001-02 UVa hoops edition (aka my 2nd year). During my 1st year at Virginia, the Wahoos made the NCAA tournament as a 4th seed behind the stellar play of Donald Hand (Benny’s inspiration), Travis Watson (T-Wat!), Roger Mason, Jr. (only current NBA baller), Adam Hall (An admitted dunkaholic), Chris Williams (Big Smooooth) and Keith Friel (A Rich Man’s Willie Dersch). Ben and I watched with rapt attention as these young stalwarts fought through a stacked conference schedule and held their own (protecting University Hall like it was Fort Knox). The team was young and hungry and unfazed by hostile circumstances. They won nailbitters and laughers against top-flight teams.

(ASIDE: The most memorable game was at home to the Duke Blue Devils on Valentines Day. Ben and I decided not attend 90 minutes before the game because we thought we’d be turned away because the student line was already too long. I ended up falling asleep in my dorm room with a head cold while Ben watched in half delirium/half delight as the Cavaliers won in the closing minute. Ben often says his greatest sports moment of that year (besides Antonio Freeman’s MNF catch) was when Adam Hall dunked off an ally-oop all over the Missing Link (Shane Battier) late in the second half. Not learning our lesson, we stubbornly repeated this feat less than a year later when we decided to spend a hungover Saturday afternoon watching Snatch instead of going to a seemingly innocuous football game against Georgia Tech. Oh yeah, the Wahoo’s won the game on the final play with a hook-and-ladder after a slugfest with one of the premier offenses in the nation. I still hate myself for missing that one.)

Back to hoops... Unfortunately, the Wahoos were knocked off by an egregiously seeded Gonzaga team at the buzzer in the first round. What I really missed about this team was the upside, it was so undeniable that you could lather yourself up in it and take a hope shower after every big win. TJ’s University had its team, its big-headed Brooklyn coach and its future of ACC relevance sprawled out in front of it. We came for the education but we fell in love with the basketball.

Then the next season happened. We lost Donald Hand and gained Elton Brown. We started the season 14-2, we finished it 16-12 and lost to South Carolina in the first round of the NIT. As a result, our love for this team hasn’t quite been the same since that magical 00-01 regular season.

That was until last year.



Sean Singletary, J.R. Reynolds, Mamadi Diane and Adrian Joseph filled up the bucket as a hearty and determined frontcourt pieced together the stout defense. Ben and I have already discussed the trapdoors and hopefulness associated with this team, but it’s important for me to reiterate just how important last year was for us. It got us interested all over again. Sean Singletary came into this season as an All-American. We were a couple baskets away from the Sweet Sixteen last March. We had a share of the ACC crown. All eyes were on this squad to continue to build on last years success. Albeit, losing J.R. hurt us, but we still felt like we were tournament material as the season started in November.

Flash forward to today.

After starting the season 10-2 and upsetting then #17 Arizona, we felt like we were decently prepared for the ACC conference schedule even while Lars Mikalauskas, Tunji Soroye and Solomon Tat were injured (even while Ryan Pettinella friskily roams the hardwood for 14 mpg - ugh). Now the Wahoos are 11-11 (1-8 ACC) and the bottom can’t come soon enough. Sean Singletary has been playing through a painful hip pointer and, as tough as he is, he cannot carry the team singlehandedly. The trapdoor has fallen once again.

I guess I’m going to this game because the memory of that missed Valentine’s Day upset against Duke still haunts me, but who really knows. I just hope I don’t fall asleep tonight with nightmares of Hansbrough dropping 40 on us in the most lopsided game of the year. Such is the life of a UVa basketball fan…

Because a picture is worth 1,000 words...

Superbowl Sunday, 5 minutes before kickoff

Where I tempt the fates...and lose

Ok so, you may recall the other day that I wrote the following about Eli Manning:

"Tonight, he made his own legend. He has earned the praise that will come forth from this world championship. I am sorry, Eli. I was wrong about you."

Yeah, well, then this happened. Now, this all could be written up to a just and loving God telling me to repent for my sins before my life (*gulp* and/or afterlife) is made really miserable.

A mere four days ago, we began our existence in a world where Eli Manning (the same Eli Manning) wins Super Bowl MVP and leads an improbable game-winning drive against the only 18-0 team in NFL history.

Turns out that the rabbit hole goes even deeper.

I suffered through Eli out-playing my hero and beating the Packers at Lambeau, in the NFC Championship Game, at a wind chill factor of negative 24 degrees after I called him out in this space for being a mediocre football player. And now, in addition to residing a mere 15 New Jersey blocks from him, I may have live in the same motherfucking city as a street named after Elisha Nelson Manning.

This is the worst crow I've had to eat and my the toes of my right foot are scraping the back of my throat. Gross, I fucking hate feet, particularly my own.

The vision of my right eye is blurred, time and words are beginning to lose their meaning, I am lost even though I know exactly where I am, and I am seriously considering the bodhisattva path.

I vow to liberate all beings without number.

I vow to uproot endless blind passions.

I vow to penetrate dharma gates beyond measure.

I vow to attain the way of the Buddha.

*gentle sobbing*

Summary and Preview: Sport for a teasipper

Tiger Woods played his second tournament in two weeks. Though the most recent tournament was half a world away from the site of his first PGA Tour victory of the season, the result was much the same. Tiger left with another trophy in tow. I’m as shocked as you are! Alright, laying this bit of sarcasm aside, Tiger’s latest triumph came as part of the European Tour’s Middle East swing, in the affluent country of UAE. He started well enough, shooting 65 on his first day and showing no signs of jetlag. The next two days were not as kind to Tiggy, shooting 71 and 73 in some slightly adverse conditions, his first rounds not in the sixties since he traded in his Huggies for big boy Pull-ups. I can’t seem to help myself with this sarcasm, must be the fact that I haven’t seen the sun since…..goddamnit, the fact that I can’t even remember should serve as evidence that my brain is now mush thanks to a lack of essential nutrients produced only after my cocoa brown skin soaks up sunlight like a loofah that absorbs water, yet is never saturated. Enough. Anyways, Tiger finished the tourney with a flourish, shooting a 65 and finishing his final round with a 25 ft. birdie putt. He posted the number and waited as Ernie Els, trailing by one shot after Tiger’s final hole heroics, proceeded to spray his drives all over the desert and, more crassly, crap down his pantleg like the Cubs’ pitching staff in last year’s playoffs. Woods gladly accepted this fat paycheck (along with the “undisclosed” appearance fee) and trophy and hopped his jet back stateside. My question for discussion is this: is Tiggy the best clutch performer in the history of sport? I know, MJ should be in the discussion and so too should Steven Gerrard (and maybe Josh Beckett?), but considering the way he consistently does what’s necessary to either snatch a victory or stave off a charging foe, does anyone really compare, especially when what he does is so difficult (chipping in, long birdie putts, sticking a 3 iron as if it was a pitching wedge)?

Speaking of clutch performers, J.B. Holmes birdied his final hole at the FBR Open in Scottsdale to force a playoff with former Sun Devil and local favorite, Phil Mickelson. On the first playoff hole, Holmes labeled a 359 yard drive over all of the hazards to set up a delicate 72 yard pitch and proceeded to birdie the 18^th again. It was his second birdie on that hole in 45 minutes, after not managing that score in the three previous rounds. What is most impressive, besides that drive, was that he did not play great golf throughout the round. Many players made the push to post a low number and wait for the leaders to falter. Briny Baird put together a hell of a round (and ditched the straw hat, I might add) posting the best round on a day where more than few players went pin-hunting and succeeded in getting some good Sunday rounds under their belts. But it was Holmes who was able to keep a bad round from spiraling out of control, maintaining his position in the hunt for the title right until his putt on the 72nd hole. It was a great showing and a tremendous victory for the basher from Kentucky.

On a whole new subject now, the Reds of Liverpool travel south to London to visit the fortress of the Chelsea F.C. Blues, Stamford Bridge (I know, I can’t help but boo when I hear their name either). The Bridge has proved to be an incredibly difficult ground for any opponents to snag points. As I mentioned in a previous post, Avram Grant has them playing disciplined football, with great defensive presence and awareness. Even without big names like John Terry, Frank Lampard, and Didier Drogba, the Blues are playing a very open and attacking style, while still maintaining said defensive strength. Also, the Blues have yet to lose on their home ground in 77 consecutive matches. These two teams have met on no less than 16 occasions in various competitions over the last 3 years, with the Reds getting the better of Chelsea in two very notable European Cup semi-finals. Earlier this season, Rob Styles was suspended by the governing body of the match officials, after a horrific penalty decision against Liverpool’s Steve Finnan allowed the Blues to sneak off with a grossly undeserved point. The Reds must have vengeance in their minds and fire in their belly if they expect to end the Blues’ home domination. It could only help the confidence of the Redmen if another tie goes to London in either the F.A. or European Cups further down the road (but that is getting a bit ahead). In a very big month which sees Champions League football return to the docket and more F.A. Cup and Premier League clashes to fight through, a big win Sunday would do wonders, pulling Liverpool F.C. out of the slump in form from which they have suffered since ringing in the new year. Unfortunately, the news is that Fernando Torres may not play in Sunday’s fixture after picking up a hamstring injury while on international duty. Hopefully it’s not serious. In their earlier clash, Torres shredded Tal Ben-Haim and placed a beautiful shot around Petr Cech at the Anfield Road end, marking his first goal of many during his first campaign in English football. I was hoping for an even more convincing display this go around. Please be fit for the game Fernando. PLEASE!

As for Portsmouth, a great showing against Chelsea last weekend saw them take their first points off the Londoners in the history of the club. It was a well deserved point, if not a couple points dropped, as new signing Jermain Defoe netted his first for Pompey and could nearly have had a second, but missed on all three of his late game chances. The south coasters have also benefited from the transfer signing of Lassana Diarra, who had a brilliant game against the Blues. His deft touches and powerful shot will certainly thrill the Pompey faithful. The former Chelsea and Arsenal man looks to be a tremendous signing by the men at the top and already has Droopy Dog (Harry Redknapp) glowing over the impact Diarra can make. Throw in the sensational form of Niko Kranjcar, and in spite of the absences of many members of the squad still on African Cup of Nations duty, Portsmouth look to take three points off Bolton Wanderers in their away clash at the weekend. Finally, some good news coming out of Fratton Park for Benny C. Play up Pompey, Pompey play up.

Dateline: Foxborough, MA - Has anybody seen our swagger?

The sun has risen and set a couple times since Eli Manning found Plaxico Burress in the corner of the endzone with :35 seconds left in Superbowl XLII to best Tom Brady and the seemingly unbeatable Patriots. I still can’t shake the feeling that, even after all this time, Bill Belichick is going to call an ESPN press conference and pull out a red challenge flag from his sock and put the kibosh on this whole thing. I think Ben’s reaction directly on the heels of the game mirrored many of my emotions and I applaud him for having the gumption to capture that moment. I’ve had a couple days to dwell on “The Mannings: The first family of football” stories that have been surging out of Bristol lately. I even caught a human interest story that was dusted off from late 2004 when Eli was a rookie. I actually remembered seeing it the first time around and was impressed by how awkwardly he shrugged off questions about his draft day choices. It wasn’t tragically awkward like Ricky Williams keeping his visored helmet on during post-game interviews, nor was it confusingly awkward like Tony LaRussa “taking a stand” on a poem the Post Dispatch published “demeaning” the Cubs... It was just plain awkward. It led me to believe that if Eli Manning and Rex Grossman got into a “Yo Mama” confrontation, everyone would lose... including those in attendance.

Now, well... it seems as though all the consternation surrounding this young man has now melted away. He’s as good as advertised. He no longer clings to some notion of “potential” like so many failed quarterbacks have done before him. He’s arrived. His status is set and his reputation has done an about face in a matter of months. As it stands, the American football watching public (i.e. basically everyone) will recall his final drive with a reverence bestowed to only a select few. He toppled the Evil Empire and in doing so, he gave us something of tremendous value. A story for the ages. A standard by which every subsequent Superbowl underdog will be measured. Peyton and Eli. Eli and Peyton. The order really doesn’t matter any more. It’s all gravy train now.

Congrats, New York. You've earned THIS.



P.S. If evidence comes to light that the Patriots filmed the Rams walkthru practice directly before their first Superbowl win in 2002 then I'm officially camping outside the Sports Guy's house in LA and heckling him for three solid months. Bet I won't. I dare ya.

Everything I know about football is wrong

When Terry Bradshaw asked Super Bowl MVP Eli Manning how he felt when Tom Brady and Randy Moss put the Patriots up 14-10 with just over 2 minutes left, I had to turn away from the television. Unlike Lewis Black, I've never done acid and, therefore, there was nothing that could prepare me for that moment.

I wasn't ready for that shit. I feared that listening to Eli's response would change my life to the extent that it would no longer be familiar to me and, concurrently, that the furniture in my apartment would transform into snakes.

It felt like the yawning abyss of an alternate universe lay immediately beyond the precipice on which I was standing. Uncontrollable and hysterical laughing was the only instinctual reflex. Until an hour ago, I believed that Eli Manning is one of the last quarterbacks who truly would want to be in a position to lead a game-winning drive against the undefeated juggernaut that has dominated football in this first decade of the 21st century.

I hoped that his answer to Bradshaw would allow me to believe that the world made sense again. Like, "I wished I was the backup and Jared Lorenzen had to go out there," or "I was so terrified and I peed a little," or "I would've rather been antiquing with my mom."

When the nearest comparison in Super Bowl history to Eli's 12 play, 83 yard drive is the 49ers' comeback win over the Bengals in Super Bowl XXIII, our collective conceptualization of the NFL must be revised. Joe Montana, Johnny Unitas, Roger Staubach, and Tom Brady lead their teams to last-minute victories with a season at stake and under the most agonizingly nerve-fraying circumstances. And now Eli Manning.

Only a legend can author one of the most important and memoable plays in the football history.

As Eli fought men twice his size to stay on his feet on that 3rd and 5, his will was evident in a way that it has never been before. Tonight, he made his own legend. He has earned the praise that will come forth from this world championship. I am sorry, Eli. I was wrong about you. Now please make everything go back to normal.

Ah, much better.