You may have heard that Sports Illustrated laid off scores of people last week, including seasoned writers like Richard Hoffer and Alex Wolff. Of course, one of the people who got spared the ax was the magazine’s biggest star, the portly lattephant you see above.
What makes Peter King so valuable to the folks at Time Warner? Well folks, it’s because the man is a true visionary. He can see things months, even years ahead of the curve…
c. I wonder what sportswriting will be like in five years. We all better get used to writing for the web. I fear the increasing irrelevance of newspapers and magazines that you can actually hold in your hands.
Yes folks, we’d all better get used to this kooky, brand new interspider thing that just sprung up yesterday. I’ve got a real hunch that thing is the way of the future. I also suspect that you’d best ditch that Betamax of yours and convert to VHS sooner rather than later. VHS is where videotape is going in the next century and beyond.
I assume it has to be part pinky, part weather, but this is only going to add to the perception that Romo’s not a big-game quarterback… I don’t buy that perception about Romo, by the way… My other point is that Romo deserves the criticism, but let’s let his career breathe before we label him some sort of A-Rod in the clutch.
“I think people may say that Tony Romo is a choker. Now, I don’t believe he’s a choker, but I will say that the people who say he IS a choker are justified in saying he’s a choker. But I’m going to need at least four more years of seeing him assplant the pooch in big games until I’m comfortable enough to come to the exact same conclusion that every other reasonable person has already come to.”
I don’t know how Wes Welker did what he did in Seattle.
It’s like he’s some sort of kid of steel!
I mean this in a very positive way: In a business with a lot of interesting physical specimens, Welker is a freak of nature.
Indeed. Never mind that, physically, Welker has average height and weight, which makes him the polar opposite of a physical freak of nature. Don’t you get it? It’s his very averageness that makes him such an incredible physical specimen.
Welker took the hit of a career last week against Pittsburgh across the middle, getting blown up by safety Ryan Clark on a vicious but clean hit. I wondered all week how Welker would respond. Would he miss any time?
Did he get my card? Did it play “Bad Day” when he opened it, like the Rite Aid clerk promised me it would?
I hope the Patriots realize Welker’s incredible value.
“Holy poo! Look at how many Welker jerseys we sold this month! Is there any way we can de-pigment Jabar Gaffney?”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of … It’s been a wonderful ride so far. I think I’m a lifer. I love the city of New York. I love New Jersey.”
– Plaxico Burress, in an enlightening interview last July with Leonard Lopate of the WNYC, the public radio station in New York.
Lopate, a superb interviewer, got some interesting stuff out of this 18-minute talk with Burress.
On whether he was intimidated in facing the Patriots last year: “It’s football, not poker. There is nothing to be intimidated about.”
None of those quotes are enlightening or interesting. It’s as if Burress had been interviewed by Nancy O’Dell.
Brian Westbrook, RB, Philadelphia. One day, if Westbrook stays healthy for three more years, there’s a decent chance we’ll discuss his credentials seriously for the Hall of Fame.
One day, if Kurt Warner wins three more MVP awards in a row, I may just think about reconsidering changing the way I perceive him.
Matt Schaub, QB, Houston. Playing in minus-three wind chill, he had the best game of his life, all things considered. In the Texans’ 24-21 upset of the Packers at Lambeau, he completed 28-of-42 for 414 yards, two touchdowns and one interception. “I was just looking for someone to hug,” he said afterward. Play many more like that, son, and you’ll have plenty of folks who will want to hug you.
Myself first among them.
Last summer I watched (Derrick) Mason sign every last autograph after a Ravens’ training-camp practice in Westminster, Md. I mean, he signed for 57 minutes, maybe one every five or seven seconds, all the while sprinkling in comments and answers to questions all these kids and adults had. Remarkable, really.
Writers always do this. They get all excited because some asshole stood around for a bit signing autographs and, you know, not acting like a complete prick. You know what, Peter? That’s not really remarkable at all. Aliens landing on Earth and showing us how to cultivate flying buses? That would be remarkable. Doctors finding a way to eliminate the Parkinson’s gene? Again, remarkable. A famous person taking time out to chat with people who like him and sign stuff for them? Not so much.
And I was told this isn’t something Mason does two or three times in camp. It’s something he does every day…
HOLY poo! THAT’S ALMOST WELKERIAN DETERMINATION!
…Knock me over with a feather, why don’t you.
I swear, you will not find a more easily flabberghasted person on Earth than this man. “And then the busboy filled my water glass for me! CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT poo?!”
The other day I asked Mason about the Plaxico Burress story, and how much it was impacting his life, and the life of his teammates… I asked Mason about owning a gun. “I don’t own one,” he said. “I really don’t want to. But I am thinking about it now.”
“Now that one of my colleagues nearly blew his dick off in a nightclub and subsequently has lost his job and a good portion of his potential earnings, I think I might need one of those things.”
f. I could still see the Chiefs drafting a quarterback in the first three rounds and having him challenge Tyler Thigpen and Brodie Croyle for quarterback-of-the-future in Chiefland.
But I thought they were rock solid at that position!
c. Every time I watch Lance Moore play I think he can be Wes Welker. Gutsy, tough, sure-handed.
Strong, caring, gorgeous, yet kinda senstitive…
f. The Ravens, even by Rex Ryan’s lofty standards, are setting a new record for defensive relentlessness.
They’ve got at least 67 unrelentings on the year!
g. The Steelers used up one of their nine lives yesterday.
At most, the Steelers play seven more games this year. Nothing beats a poorly chosen cat metaphor that also fails on a mathematical level. Hang in there, baby!
You know why I like hockey so much? Because of the effort players give in the 24th of 80 regular-season games.
But not the 16th. God, those assholes just lay down for that 16th regular season game. Also note that the NHL season has 82 games, not 80.
Only one show in history can make me howl out loud over the pronunciation of “Cool Whip.” You guessed it. “Family Guy.” I am dying to meet Brian the dog.
Maybe he got your card!
Coffeenerdness: Don’t remember ever waiting 18 minutes in Starbucks before, but I did Saturday afternoon in Montclair. Isn’t there a recession going on?
Shouldn’t the rest of you people be too poor to afford my elite flyer coffee?
Why does Rutgers end up in these Single-A bowls every year? There can’t be 15 teams in America playing better over the last five or six weeks.
I have no clue why a team that started 1-5 didn’t make the Sugar Bowl. It’s a fuging outrage, is what it is!