Welcome (Back) to the NFL

DISCLAIMER: We here at North O Forbes hate season previews that are heavy on analysis. With the kickoff to the Steelers and the entire NFL season just hours away, it would seem appropriate that we would offer our readership (all five or six of you) some sort of forecast. Well, the magazine rack at Barnes and Noble is overflowing with 250 page tomes that include tidbits on every St. Louis Rams and New York Jets draft pick. If that’s your thing, more power to you. Just don’t expect us to ever mention Brad Smith’s time in the 40 yard dash. Instead, we offer a completely unresearched and totally biased personal essay on the Steelers (kind like Bill Simmons’ thoughts on the upcoming Patriots, er, NFL season). We promise this moment of reflection won’t last too long, and we’ll start acting like smart asses again very soon. Without further ado…

My Sports Illustrated subscription expired in the middle of last January. Why is this relevant you ask? Well, as most readers know, the marketing gurus at SI like to reward your renewal with a “special” gift. The best of these gifts is an NFL Champions package, that includes a hardback book and NFL Films DVD featuring whatever team wins the Super Bowl. Sick of getting fleece blankets the color of pool table felt and oversized gym bags, I decided to take a chance. The Steelers were two wins away from the title, and the starring role in Sports Illustrated’s Champions Package.

Well, as everyone knows, the men of Steel came through. The Gatorade had barely dried on Bill Cowher’s shirt when I was already on the phone, reading my credit card number to SI’s subscription department. Yet as with most of my best laid plans, something hit a snag. February came and went. My magazines began arriving again, but still no Champions Package. March came and went. I bit the bullet and called customer service. “We’re sorry sir; we had a computer glitch that says you still owe us payment. Since you don’t, we’ll ship those off to you right away.” Well, needless to say, they didn’t arrive right away. Four more calls to customer service and a 3 AM profanity-laced email later, my Champions Package finally arrived last week.

For a guy who once killed his chances with a girl at a party by telling her “inspirational sports movies are like porn to me,” the Super Bowl XL DVD was a revelation. And in hindsight, it’s kind of nice the movie showed up on the eve of a new season. It had been long enough that some of the smaller details of the championship season were already getting a little hazy. No, I won’t bother summarizing the thing here, and yes I cried. Twice. Fuck you for judging me.

However, given the timing of the DVD’s arrival, there is one particularly haunting scene worth mentioning. The film’s credits play over footage of the Steelers victory parade through the streets of downtown Pittsburgh. Throughout that day of celebration are images of a perfectly healthy, newly-elected Mayor Bob O’Connor—jiving with Hines Ward, slapping high-fives with Bill Cowher, and of course, leading the crowd in a raucous chorus of “Here We Go Steelers, Here We Go!”

Now I’m not trying to eulogize O’Connor. His death is terribly sad, but it’s not my place. Instead, I’m taking the DVD as a reminder not only of life’s fragility, but also the great little moments packed into every season; moments that happen whether or not your team ultimately wins a championship. So, with this in mind, I offer my first annual New Season Resolution. I’ve never been terribly good at keeping my New Year’s Resolutions (see my chewed up finger nails for evidence of how successful resolutions from 1995 through 1999 were), but I’m hoping I can follow through on this one. With the glow of a championship season still fresh, I’m going spend just this one season trying to worry less about wins and losses and more about enjoying the ride.

Allow me to explain further. I never saw Ben Roethlisberger tackle Nick Harper. The instant the ball popped out, I was a crumpled, cursing, sweaty mess on the floor of the ESPN Zone in Washington, DC. In the moments between then and Mike Vanderjagt’s missed field goal, I wondered why I did this to myself—if the highs were worth the agonizing lows. If the Steelers had lost that game, I’m sure I would have come crawling back for the 2006 season, my fandom hungrier and more intense than ever. But for the first time in a long time, something broke exactly right for Pittsburgh sports.

So this is my reward. What good is it to be the defending champions if you can’t enjoy it for a while? I was in St. Louis last week visiting family, when a drunk local spotted me in my Pittsburgh Steelers paraphernalia. “Steelers fucking suck!” He said to me. “Sorry dude, I couldn’t hear you. I’ve got five Vince Lombardi trophies in my ears,” I shot back, and just kept walking. You get to be that chill when you're the champs. Regardless of what happens this season, we as Steelers fans get to keep that vanilla cool for the next 20 or so weeks. After all, our team is the title-holder until the final gun sounds on February 4 in Miami. I’m still going to watch every game, and I'll still get pissed when Heath Miller comes off the field on third downs. I'm just going to try and enjoy my dinner a little more on the Sundays when my team loses.

That said, there are two other guarantees. First, this resolution will be shot to hell the minute the Dolphins convert their first third and long tonight. And second, if the Steelers repeat, no matter how successful my resolution is, I’ll be back on a table at Peter’s Pub, terrible towel in one hand, Iron City in the other, conducting the crowd in a rousing rendition of “Don’t Stop Believing.” How many times do you get to do THAT in your life?

Poetic Spam

Somehow this message made it into my inbox. For the record, I have no idea who Benjamin is, I've never considered investing in ebooks, and I'm certainly not in love with Elissa. We all know she's a worthless tramp.

Anyway, props to the spam people for upping the creativity level of their messages. This sounds like a weekly post-modern soap opera that leaves the first wave of Gen-X housewives itching for the next installment. Think Michel Foucault meets Days of Our Lives. I wonder if "Nathaniel Richard" is hiring young writers. Perhaps I'll send along a resume. Although, if they were really good, they would have included a YouTube suggestion for this week. Jerks.

The email itself follows, and the above picture is the image that came with the message:

Subj: bossy Inbox

	Nathaniel Richard	to me

Vendeuvre is only one aspect of the question.

I have to talk to you aboutsomething infinitely more serious. The Simler looms hadbeen silent, for the first time since the War. With your cursed French law, there was no way of preventingthis.

Youmust begin by getting clear of it all.

Yes,yes, my dear boy, and the only force that exists, for the moment, inthe house of Simler.

What she has to learn from you will take her a century. You will understand what I mean in a moment.

I have heard also of yourtaste for the violin.

He added in an important tone: There is the whole history of modernsociety in my parable. There are some curious discoveries to be made there.

I have to talk to you aboutsomething infinitely more serious.

I dont even want to go into the country and sleep.

I shall be glad when you tell methat you bear me no ill will. Yes, let Benjamin say whether such behaviour was in the interest ofall parties concerned. Hartand may be reprinted only when these eBooks are free of all fees.

As formyself, what you have said interests me. And I tell you for the tenth time that Im miserably ill.

Hartand may be reprinted only when these eBooks are free of all fees. Acountry needs to have its dissenters just as much as its conformists. I have to talk to you aboutsomething infinitely more serious.

I do not say that she is in love with you, orthat you are in love with her. If Joseph hadnot married Elisa, would you be in the world?

You will understand what I mean in a moment. Masters andworkers set the factory going again, with their tails between theirlegs. These proposals did not appeal to her nature, I suppose?

Did they come away from Buschendorf toserve their country, or to become corrupted in it? I believethat I have just delivered myself of a parable.

We shall find out some day, and many other things atthe same time.

Hartand may be reprinted only when these eBooks are free of all fees.

On the employers side, or on the workers?

We shall find out some day, and many other things atthe same time.

The boy studied Benjamins rubicund face as he mastered the contentsof the strange document. Myfriend, when I saw that the house of Stern was making its pile, I tookmy hook. Benjamin broke off his speech at this point and darted a glance at hislistener. He added in an important tone: There is the whole history of modernsociety in my parable.

Louis said nothing, but took the document from Bens hands. Your catalogue of undesired delights onlymakes it worse.

They have often mingled without amalgamating. It was back there that you ought to have knownhim.

Is This Really Necessary?

Former Yankees pitcher Jim Bouton announced last week that he plans to start an organization that will play by the rules of 1864 base ball. Normally, I would just file this under the tab marked "Don't We as a Society Have Anything Else to Worry About?" (ie, the same place I filed the story about thecarbon dating of King Tut).

However, there are two unique angles to this story. First of all, Bouton is an MLB pariah, after authoring the first ever sports gossip book, the all-time classic Ball Four. Since its been nearly 40 years since the book's publication, perhaps cash is tight around the Bouton household. Rather than come out with a conventional sequel, I think Bouton is founding a whole new league to trash with a tell-all book. If we see Bouton and Yogi Berra under the bleachers trying to look up some unsuspecting woman's hoop skirt, we'll know what's really going on.

The other reason this event is worth noting: right here. You ass!

God Bless YouTube, Week 6

Corky's Dryfire

I don't know what to say. I didn't used to have qualms laughing at people like Corky from Life Goes On. In fact, I embraced my amusement. I was defiant even to those who dared to take the moral high road and judge me.

At some point though, it dawned on me: retribution was coming. Someday soon I was going to have kids of my own. At my current karmic condition, I was headed for a life of passing out juice boxes as a parent volunteer on the short bus. Intimidated, I bit my tongue. No more unnecessary or mean jokes.

Then I saw this clip. Oh well, at least I'll love my kid the same as I would any child.

Ramblings on Carson Palmer

So let me first start off by saying that, even as a Steeler fan, I'm rooting for Carson Palmer to come back at full strength. It's not as much survivor guilt, as it is empathy. With the Bengals and the Los Angeles Clippers now making playoff appearances, my Pirates have taken up the mantle of Worst Fucking Team in Professional Sports (WFTIPS from now on). When Palmer went down during that divisional playoff game, it wasn't hard to personalize. I could only imagine what it would be like to have the Buccos finally make the post-season, only to have Jason Bay tear his rotator cuff in the first inning of the first game. Cincinnati, some things really aren't fair.

That said, I still think Mr. Palmer is a bit of a California pretty boy with a bitchy streak, and a weird pent-up hatred for my favorite team. Therefore, in the wake of his glorious return to action Monday night, I feel the need to point something out. According to the Elias Sports Bureau, three QBs threw for three touchdowns in an NFL pre-season game last year:

Donovan McNabb, Chris Simms and Bradlee Van Pelt. All I'm really saying is that if Bradlee Van Pelt can do it, how hard can it be?

Well, that and preseason games mean nothing, the Packers suck, and the Steelers still would have won that playoff game even if Carson Palmer's knee wasn't shredded like an Enron filing cabinet.

Can you tell I'm bitter his comeback happened two days after my fantasy draft?

God Bless YouTube, Week 5

Right Now.

The theme for this week's post is innovation. Since I just figured out how to post virals directly into the blog, I thought I'd honor the occasion with a commercial for one of the greatest innovations of my lifetime. For those of you that disagree, I offer up my friend Greg's 10th birthday party. When listing the reasons why his party was going to kick ass, Greg said "we've got Crystal Clear Pepsi, four video games from Blockbuster and pizza." And when you're ten years old, anything that ranks ahead of not only four video games from Blockbuster but also pizza, clearly represents an innovation.

If you're still not convinced, well, you didn't send me a video this week, so screw you. Your opinion doen't count.

Has He Tried Match.com?

So during the off-season last year, a guy from Brentwood named Brian Jackson impersonated Steelers QB Ben Roethlisberger in order to meet women. Apparently, a few of them bought the ruse for an extended period of time, because I remember some very pissed off ladies when his scam was revealed. What I find remarkable is that there were actually people in Pittsburgh who, in 2005, had no idea what Ben Roethlisberger looked like. No wonder these women were single.

Well, despite undergoing pscyhological counseling, Mr. Jackson is at again. This time though, he wisely chose a lesser-known Steeler to impersonate, posing as perennial back-up tight end Jerame Tuman. This time, the guy even got into what sounds like a pretty serious relationship with the woman. His "girlfriend" even agreed to loan him gobs of money on repeated occasions, proving just how far being a professional football player can carry you romantically in this town.

On that note, if we're ever out at a bar together, my name is Sean Morey.

Smackdown!

As reader of this blog know, I am a painfully loyal Pittsburgh Pirates fan. Not to revisit old wounds, but the Bucs haven't had a winning record since 1993. During the past thirteen-and-a-half seasons, there have been many, many times when I had an overhelming desire to punch a Pirates starting pitcher in the face. However, unlike Toronto Blue Jays manager John Gibbons, I wasn't A) Coaching the team and B) Actually going to follow through on my urge.

The event I'm referring to took place in the bottom of the third inning of Monday night's game between the Jays and the Oakland A's. During the frame, Toronto starter Ted Lilly allowed Oakland to score seven runs, cutting what had been an 8-0 Blue Jays lead to just a single run.

Not surprisingly, Gibbons decided to summon a reliever from the bullpen. However, when he went out to get the ball from Lilly, Gibbons couldn't refrain from chewing out his starter. Lilly, in turn screamed back at Gibbons, even refusing to give him the ball (this despite the fact that he had just given up seven runs). Lilly finally relented, but the player and coach continued to shout at each other in the dugout. Eventually, the argument moved to the locker room runway, where, from all reports, Gibbons initiated a physical confrontation.

As an aside, the video (I'll keep checking YouTube for it) of the fistfight is pretty funny. You can't see either Gibbons or Lilly, but there is a great angle of all the players on the bench rushing inside to see what's going on. It's kind of like when there was a controversial play in the elementary school kickball game, and all of a sudden it got physical. Someone would yell "fight!" and before you knew it, the whole third grade was scurrying across the playground to get a better look.

What's even better is that this isn't an isolated event for Gibbons. Last month, then Blue Jays third basemen Shea Hillenbrand claimed his manager challenged him to fight, even asking the infielder to punch him in the face. Although in Gibbons' defense, Hillenbrand had just gone off on a crazy tirade against the organization because it failed to congratulate him for the adoption of a new baby. Seriously, I couldn't make this stuff up.

Gibbons still has a long way to go though, to be considered the craziest Blue Jays manager of all-time. Right now, that title belongs to former skipper Tim Johnson, who used to fire up his team with battle stories from his days as a Marine in the Vietnam War. Shortly before the 1999 season, it was revealed that Johnson spent the entire conflict in the United States, never seeing a day of combat. The team offered him a chance to resign. He refused and was promptly fired. Maybe it's something in the water up there.

James Frey Has a Big Problem

I don't blame you if you've never heard of James Frey. I'm kind of ashamed that I have, actually. For the fortunately unaware, Frey is the author of A Million Little Pieces, a supposed biography chronicling the writer's struggles with alcohol and drug addiction. In September of 2005, Oprah Winfrey selected the memoir for her book club, causing sales to skyrocket. Unfortunately for Frey, The Smoking Gun released a report this January, claiming that he fabricated many parts of his supposedly true story.

Initially, Frey vehemently denied the charges. However, later that month he appeared on Oprah, where, after being bitch-slapped by the host, he confessed to making up parts of his story. Part of Frey's justification: the heightened drama from the fictional passages was the only way any publisher would take a chance on the book. He also said some pretty weird stuff about how the same "demons" that drove him to drugs and alcohol had caused him to lie.

Why is this important? Well, Deadspin is doing an NFL preview feature where one literary fan of each team tells the world "Why My NFL Team is Better than Your NFL Team." The choice to write the article on the Cleveland Browns? You guessed, James Frey.

The piece is fairly well written, albeit about pretty standard Cleveland fan stuff (lots of moaning about having never seen a championship). However, at the end of the first paragraph, Frey drops this doozy on the reader:

"Before they left for Baltimore in 1995 (Fuck you Art Modell), they had been rebuilding for several years. In typical Cleveland fashion, that team won the Super Bowl ... as the Ravens two years after they left."

Seems like a pretty logical complaint for a Browns fan, right? Except, the Baltimore Ravens didn't win the Super Bowl in 1997. The Denver Broncos did. The Ravens didn't even win the Super Bowl in 1998. The Denver Broncos did, again. In fact, the Ravens didn't win a championship until the 2000-01 season, their fifth year in Baltimore. Hmmm. Exaggerating a point to add drama. Still can't shake those "demons," can you Jimmy?

God Bless YouTube, Week 4

We owe a very big thanks to Matt Karasic this week, for sending us what can only be described as a cutting edge and potentially headline-making video. Given the media circus surrounding Zinedine Zidane's headbutt of Marco Mazeratti in the World Cup final, we find it remarkable that this underground footage of a French national soccer team training drill didn't get more coverage. Someone call FIFA.

Chris Sheridan Could Only Think of 8 Reasons

Once upon a time, it was free to surf the internet. Well, you still had to buy a modem and pay a service provider, but most sites, at least those without naked people were didn't cost any extra money.

With the number of people who have access to the internet increasing, more and more domains are beginning to charge users for content on their site. One of the worst offenders, unfortunately for me, is ESPN.com. It used to be the worldwide leader would only offer the occasional feature like "Mel Kiper's Big Mock Draft Board" and "Rob Neyer's 50 Greatest Post-Season Pitching Performances" to insiders. However, these days you can't read certain columnists or any archived stories unless you shell out the $39.95 per year it takes to be an ESPN Insider. Admittedly, it's not that pricy, except that the bill always seems to expire right after I've done something like just forked out first and last month's rent and a security deposit.

That said, I have to wonder sometimes why ESPN considers certain articles premium content. Take Chris Sheridan's most recent column, for example (sorry, only ESPN Insiders can follow the link). In it, Sheridan offers ten reasons why the United States, despite a strong exhibition showing, is not going to win the World Basketball Championships later this month. Except, Sheridan could really only think of 8 reasons. So instead of just going with a potentially awkward number in his story, Sheridan chooses to proffer these as legitimate reasons why Team USA will come up short:

"8. The food factor. If you don't like Japanese food, you can subsist over here on American fast food. But try eating that stuff for three weeks, and watch your energy level plummet in inverse proportion to your climbing cholesterol count.

9. The smell factor. This is a little disgusting, but it's true: Some of these teams stink, literally. Players on international teams travel to and from the arenas in their uniforms, and many players forsake showers as a result. I got a really close look at Argentina during the Worlds in Indianapolis, and I do not believe Fabricio Oberto, Luis Scola or Andres Nocioni bathed during the entire tournament. BO may be repulsive, but it also keeps defenders a few extra inches away."

That, is cutting edge analysis.

Also, this is just one in a series of articles by Sheridan about USA Basketball's shortcomings. The guy is essentially staking his reputation on the Americans losing in Japan. If the Stars and Stripes have a lead late in the gold medal game, I fully expect Sheridan to pop out of the stands and start mowing down players like Damon Wayans in The Last Boy Scout.

Povertyneck Hillbillies Update

The aformentioned Ben Roethlisberger-in-a-yinzer-country-music-video has been released, and is available here.

Be careful though. I just tried to click on the link, and got this message:

Bandwidth Limit Exceeded

The server is temporarily unable to service your request due to the site owner reaching his/her bandwidth limit. Please try again later.

---

Apache/1.3.36 Server at www.rustrecords.com Port 80

Pittsburgh: a mecca of highbrow culture.

Evgeni Malkin is Probably Crazy (But in a Good Way)

About the only thing anyone can agree on about Evgeni Malkin these days, is that the Pengiuns prospect is the best hockey player not currently in the NHL. Emphasis on the word currently. Since the end of the regular season, the Pens have been furiously trying to sign the second-overall pick in the 2004 entry draft to a professional contract. I don't think there's enough room on Blogger's server for me to detail all the twists and turns the process has taken, but let's just say it involves: handshake deals, broken contracts, Malkin's Russian League team Metallurg Magnitogorsk, (which surprisingly is not lifted from a Roger Moore thriller), possible Mafia influences, about 800 quotes in the American news media that you can't read without hearing a goofy Eastern European accent, and Malkin finally fleeing his homeland like the Golem in Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Klay.

Yet, perhaps the most bizarre, and wonderful aspect, of this story is that Malkin recently opened a restaurant in his home country themed after the comforts of a Russian jail. I'm no dining critic, but the attention to detail sounds phenomenal:

"Barred windows and ceiling, lamps designed as police flashlights, barbed wire and excerpts from the Russian Penal Code are significant parts of the interior design...You can have a seat on a plank-bed (there are comfortable chairs for the more delicate) and eat your food with an aluminum fork."

It's been a while since we've had an insane superstar in Pittsburgh (oh Jaromir), and I for one think the town is ready. Sure, Big Ben does some stupid stuff, but it falls more into the category of shitfaced-yinzer-fratboy, ie, stuff you see any weekend night on Carson Street. A jail themed restaurant? That's the brilliant kind of crazy. I only hope Malkin's on-ice wizardy matches his off-ice entrepreneurial skills. Man, the kid can't get here soon enough.

God Bless YouTube, Week 3

Slightly delayed post this week, but the new apartment wasn't rigged up for cable until late this Saturday. I hope all six of you that actually follow this thing will forgive me.

With props to Jessica Cicchino, the first person to email a video suggestion to northoforbes@gmail.com, the theme of this week's edition is the local news. Growing up, I used to think the heavy-handedness and amateurish tint of the nightly news broadcasts were unique to my hometown market. However, as these videos indicate the above characteristics were in no way unique to the 'Burgh.

The first video, ostensibly, is seeking to unveil the dangers of leaving your bicycle unattended, read: how easy it is to pick a bike lock. First of all, what a cutting edge idea for a story. I'd love to know what other investigative reports were left on the floor when they decided to pursue this angle. I'm curious to know if the woman who spazzes out is upset because she thinks this report is actually of vital importance to the public, or if she's just so depressed that this is the direction her career's gone, that she ends up flipping her lid. If the latter is the case, I just picture her screaming at her producer later on, "I went to NORTHWESTERN! I don't have to take this! I'm a real journalist! I'm a real journalist!"

Since were on the subject of local news, I've been looking for an excuse to post this video from Deadspin for a couple weeks now. I have three comments on the clip: Carl Monday is a supreme fucktard, I'm thinking of going as Mike Cooper for halloween, and the father may be the most sympathetic person ever captured on video. There's also a follow-up report that can be found here.

Michael Kay is an Ass-Clown

Going to college in the New York area, I was subjected to watching my fair share of baseball games on the YES Network (an entire channel owned by and devoted strictly to the New York Yankees). Perhaps the worst part of watching a game on YES was the stable of broadcasters, who always managed to display not only blatant homerism, but also disdain and disgust at even the slightest thing un-Yankee. The worst offender by far was Michael Kay, who's emphatic home-run call of "SeeYA!" made me want to go lie down in traffic on the BQE every time.

Anyway, the folks at FireJoeMorgan uncovered this delicious little soundbyte from the Michael Kay Radio Show. In one three-minute span, the host manages to piss-off both Jews and African-Americans, all in the name of defending his decision to point-out on the air that Chien-Ming Wang had a perfect game in the sixth-inning. Wang lost the perfect game shortly thereafter, leading a bunch of irate Yankee fans like Jimmy from Queens (whom Kay can be heard berating at the beginning of the clip) to call in and complain that Kay jinxed Wang. Personally, I think the soundbyte is the perfect auditory example of a grown man "getting his panties in a bunch." And yes, I am suggesting that Michael Kay may in fact wear women's underwear.

It gets even better though. The show's official website displays a survey where Kay among other things claims "he doesn't root for any teams" and that "the Olympics are everything that's wrong with the world today." However, my favorite section is Kay's top-5 wishes, where he ranks "Jennifer Anniston" and "incredible wealth" above "health for my family." What a guy.

God Bless YouTube, Week 2

I have a thing for Defcon 4 sports meltdowns. While this week's clip from the 1988 Wales Conference Finals doesn't possess the oultandishness of Bobby Knight, or the absurdity of the minor league manager from a couple weeks ago, I'm linking it for a few reasons. First of all, it's newsreel footage from almost 20 years ago, which gives the whole scene a Zapruder-like, important-piece-of-history aura. Secondly, the berated referee is Don Koharski, an ass-clown with a noted dislike for Mario Lemieux (which, if I'm not mistaken, breaks the 11th commandment). Finally, Devils coach Jim Schoenfeld is so damn Canadian it hurts. There's the accent of course, but also, how about the fact that his final barb tossed at Koharski is "You fat Pig! Have another doughnut!" Ouch Jim, ouch.

New Feature: God Bless YouTube

From now on, every Friday afternoon, I'm posting my personal favorite YouTube clip. I'm open to suggestions, so if you have one to share send it along to northoforbes@gmail.com. It Doesn't have to be new or even that rare, just something you think I'd wanna watch. Cliched idea. Perhaps, but it's my blog so don't click the link if the idea bores you.

Props to Phil for pointing this week's clip out to me.

Also, two things to chew on:

Did anyone suspect in the fall of 1999, upon the release of the "Drive me Crazy" music video, that this co-stars career would ever surpass this one's? What's even more funny is that it took me almost 10 minutes to decide which picture depicting Britney as a complete mess to use in the previous link. One link, so many choices.

In addition, I was in traffic last night behind an SUV with the license plate "DMB LVR." Yes, I know, I was a big DMB fan at one point in my life, but that was oh, I don't know, 1999. It's moments like that that make me wish I'd put down the extra $35 for a camera phone.

The Smize

I realize I could probably write a bi-weekly post criticizing the work of Pittsburgh Post-Gazette Sports Columnist Bob Smizik. As one former colleague of his said, Smize is excellent at "taking passionate positions on issues he doesn't really care about." Actually though, his most recent offense doesn't exactly take on the overtly negative, glass-is-half-empty, lecturing tone that most of his writing exudes. That said, it's still pretty close. In today's paper, Smizik has a column where he devotes 1/3 of his space to re-hashing all the close calls that went the Steelers way in Super Bowl XL. Smize then goes on to make the brilliant point, that, shockingly, had one of these decisions been reversed, the Steelers might not have won the game! The Super Bowl happened more than six months ago, and the game's officiating was one of the bigger stories of the NFL off-season. I just find it insanely lazy and flat-out stupid to write a column that includes paragraph long descriptions of each of the questionable plays. Adding to the irony is the fact that in the sports section of the Post-Gazette's online edition is a poll asking readers how many times they are going to Latrobe to watch Steelers training camp. The options: A) 1-2 B) 3-5 C) More than 5. "Not at all" isn't even an option. Do these sound like the kind of readers that need any second of the Super Bowl re-hashed?

I wonder if Spike Jonze is Directing

I know this is sort of aping a post from another blog, but Deadpsin's take on the Povertyneck Hillbillies/Ben Roethlisberger music video is worth a look. Perhaps it's more a reflection on me that, after living in Pittsburgh full-time for over a year now, I don't bat an eye when I hear the words "local band" and "Povertyneck Hillbillies" in the same sentence. Upon reflection, I'm not so much horrified at the band's name, but rather, more confused as to what it actually means. I think they just kind of picked three words with the connotations "blue-collar" "cowboy hats" "good Americans" and "cheap beer" and decided to toss them together to form some sort of name that relies more on word association than actual syntax. The Deadspin post also points out the juicy detail that the Povertyneck Hillbillies are the official band of the Pittsburgh Steelers. Wow. We're talking about the Super Bowl Champions and one of the more popular teams in the world here. What a reflection on the local music scene. Somewhere, Manny Theiner is reading that and wondering where all his dreams went wrong. (Free cookie to the first person who gets that reference). I also find the comments section tremendous, particularly the exchange between the former Pitt student, and the guy who thinks he went to college in Oakland, Cali.

Snow in July

Bringing back the blog from the land of the dead.

First of all, this story out of Long Island yesterday is unbelievable. The Islanders fired General Manager Neil Smith, architect of the 1994 Stanley Cup Champion New York Rangers, and replaced him with former back-up goaltender Garth Snow. Now, current Carolina Hurricanes GM Jim Rutherford is a former back-up goaltender too. It's just, he played almost 30 years ago, retired in the 80s and spent the last two decades working his way up the hockey ladder. Garth Snow on the other hand, was a back-up goalie LAST SEASON. And a crappy one at that. The brains behind all of this is Islanders owner Charles Wang, whose justification for the whole situation can (and trust me, should) be heard here. While Isle's fans are no doubt pulling their hair out this morning and calling Wang a mad man, I choose to think of him as a pioneer. From now on, if a franchise goes more than a decade without winning a playoff series, it should become a sports-wide by-law that the team's worst player becomes General Manager. Can you say Humberto Cota Pirates fans?