Tim Duncan
c/o San Antonio Spurs
One AT&T Center
San Antonio, TX
78219
4/20/07
Mr. Duncan,
Please accept my sincerest apologies for the regrettable incident of April 15 in which I ejected you from the Spurs' game against Dallas.
Specifically, I'm sorry that I didn't hasten your departure by sticking my entire foot in your ass.
Further, I'm immensely sorry that you managed to slip past me on your way out of the arena. I was waiting in the parking lot, punk. You got lucky this time, but rest assured, someday I will kick you in your labia, then pummel that blank stare off your face -- you know it, I know it, and all the fans who pay to see me do my thing night after night after night know it.
Go cry to David Stern all you want. The fact is, I've been in this league damn near three decades. I was blowing the whistle when your mother was blowing half of the guys in the Caribbean, and I ain't going anywhere.
It may interest you to know that before becoming an NBA legend, I worked for the U.S. Postal Service from 1972-75. Oh how I would love to stamp your ass "FRAGILE" and express mail you back to the Virgin Islands ... heh, "Virgin" Islands. How perfect is that? Were they named after you? I guess not, or else they'd be the Giggling Bitch On the Bench Islands.
In closing, I'd like to invite you to my home in Newton Square, Pa., to discuss this matter further. It's easy to find; just follow the trail of blood and tears.
Regards,
Joey Crawford
Friday, April 20, 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Newsflash: Water is wet!
There was a time when getting the "scoop" was paramount.
Sometimes you got it right, and you revealed that Nixon was scrawling a stinky Dirty Sanchez onto the Constitution.
Occasionally you got it wrong, and Dewey did not, as it turns out, beat Truman.
(Hey, it was a 50-50 shot, and they were on deadline.)
Either way, the "scoop" was the proverbial feather in the cap that ... oh, fuck it. Print journalists have always made dick wages, and trade-off is that you get the ego boost of seeing your name in print, and an exponentially larger boost if your name was attached to a scoop, which only really mattered because publishers wanted to sell more papers.
Which brings us to the fact that we're now living in 2007, and the news is pretty much free.
Now we don't have to wait for the next press run.
Now The Internets and The Google exist, and newsboys are no longer on every street corner imploring us to read all about it.
All you have to do is hit F5 and refresh your screen. And if you've hit F5 anytime since the summer of 2005, you've known that Greg Oden would spend exactly one season of indentured servitude in college before exiting stage right and becoming the No. 1 pick in the NBA draft.
So what do we have tonight? Breathless scoops!
The very same breathless scoops -- that Oden, Mike Conley and Daequan Cook are turning pro.
Jeff Goodman is claiming he broke the story at FoxSports.com. "Gary Parrish Reports: Oden, Conley Jr., Cook headed to draft" is splashed across the front of Sportsline. Andy Katz says "a source close to the situation told ESPN.com" the news.
Look, obviously brand-new agent Mike Conley Sr. whipped out the ol' Rolodex and made a few phone calls. It doesn't matter in any tangible (read: financial) difference who got it 30 seconds before the other guy.
And even if it did, I'm sure some message board scooped 'em all.
Sometimes you got it right, and you revealed that Nixon was scrawling a stinky Dirty Sanchez onto the Constitution.
Occasionally you got it wrong, and Dewey did not, as it turns out, beat Truman.
(Hey, it was a 50-50 shot, and they were on deadline.)
Either way, the "scoop" was the proverbial feather in the cap that ... oh, fuck it. Print journalists have always made dick wages, and trade-off is that you get the ego boost of seeing your name in print, and an exponentially larger boost if your name was attached to a scoop, which only really mattered because publishers wanted to sell more papers.
Which brings us to the fact that we're now living in 2007, and the news is pretty much free.
Now we don't have to wait for the next press run.
Now The Internets and The Google exist, and newsboys are no longer on every street corner imploring us to read all about it.
All you have to do is hit F5 and refresh your screen. And if you've hit F5 anytime since the summer of 2005, you've known that Greg Oden would spend exactly one season of indentured servitude in college before exiting stage right and becoming the No. 1 pick in the NBA draft.
So what do we have tonight? Breathless scoops!
The very same breathless scoops -- that Oden, Mike Conley and Daequan Cook are turning pro.
Jeff Goodman is claiming he broke the story at FoxSports.com. "Gary Parrish Reports: Oden, Conley Jr., Cook headed to draft" is splashed across the front of Sportsline. Andy Katz says "a source close to the situation told ESPN.com" the news.
Look, obviously brand-new agent Mike Conley Sr. whipped out the ol' Rolodex and made a few phone calls. It doesn't matter in any tangible (read: financial) difference who got it 30 seconds before the other guy.
And even if it did, I'm sure some message board scooped 'em all.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Welcome to Deep Left Field
I never planned to start a blog with a baseball-themed title, given that -- technically speaking -- I hate baseball.
Small-market teams have no prayer of winning the World Series, the league did the whole "see no evil, hear no evil" bit while half of its players were juicing themselves into Incredible Hulkdom, Bud Selig is bathed in the stench of incompetence, watching a game on TV involves the perilous risk of hearing Joe Buck or Tim McCarver, and oh yeah, the game is really, really boring unless you happen to be sitting in the stands on a sunny day, drinking a beer the size of Sean Hannity's noggin.
But I digress.
My initial plan was to make a cheesy pun about the color blue, since I am a diehard Tar Heels fan and a proud Democrat. But I couldn't come up with a good title that wasn't already taken. Most egregiously, whoever signed up for carolinablue.blogspot.com made two posts in 2003, then threw his hands in the air and waved 'em like he just doesn't care.
trueblue.blogspot.com? Taken.
youremyboyblue.blogspot.com? Gone.
littleboyblueheneededthemoney.blogspot.com? I didn't actually check that one, but Andrew Dice Clay probably still has a fan out there (somewhere ... hopefully far, far away) who snared it.
(By the way, unbeknownst to me until about 30 seconds ago, the Diceman is attempting a comeback. His goal: To play to a sold-out Giants Stadium. How's that working out, you ask? According to the "Upcoming Gigs" section of his website, he has a two-night-stand coming up at the Andiamo Celebrity Room in Warren, Mich. -- so it's safe to say Lawrence Taylor will play in Giants Stadium again before Dice does.)
I ultimately went with Deep Left Field, mostly because it's the first marginally-catchy name that was actually available. It also happens to make sense, considering that most of my blog entries will be about sports or politics (with a generally progressive point of view, whatever the hell that means).
So, sit back, pour yourself a refreshing beverage the size of your favorite right-wing blowhard's cranium, and enjoy what promises to be a sporadically-updated, often-incoherent series of my nonsensical ramblings.
Small-market teams have no prayer of winning the World Series, the league did the whole "see no evil, hear no evil" bit while half of its players were juicing themselves into Incredible Hulkdom, Bud Selig is bathed in the stench of incompetence, watching a game on TV involves the perilous risk of hearing Joe Buck or Tim McCarver, and oh yeah, the game is really, really boring unless you happen to be sitting in the stands on a sunny day, drinking a beer the size of Sean Hannity's noggin.
But I digress.
My initial plan was to make a cheesy pun about the color blue, since I am a diehard Tar Heels fan and a proud Democrat. But I couldn't come up with a good title that wasn't already taken. Most egregiously, whoever signed up for carolinablue.blogspot.com made two posts in 2003, then threw his hands in the air and waved 'em like he just doesn't care.
trueblue.blogspot.com? Taken.
youremyboyblue.blogspot.com? Gone.
littleboyblueheneededthemoney.blogspot.com? I didn't actually check that one, but Andrew Dice Clay probably still has a fan out there (somewhere ... hopefully far, far away) who snared it.
(By the way, unbeknownst to me until about 30 seconds ago, the Diceman is attempting a comeback. His goal: To play to a sold-out Giants Stadium. How's that working out, you ask? According to the "Upcoming Gigs" section of his website, he has a two-night-stand coming up at the Andiamo Celebrity Room in Warren, Mich. -- so it's safe to say Lawrence Taylor will play in Giants Stadium again before Dice does.)
I ultimately went with Deep Left Field, mostly because it's the first marginally-catchy name that was actually available. It also happens to make sense, considering that most of my blog entries will be about sports or politics (with a generally progressive point of view, whatever the hell that means).
So, sit back, pour yourself a refreshing beverage the size of your favorite right-wing blowhard's cranium, and enjoy what promises to be a sporadically-updated, often-incoherent series of my nonsensical ramblings.
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