Teddy Ruxpin and HR Puff’n'Stuff Replace MSU Defensive Coordinator

Notre Dame bloggers at The House Rock Built unearthed what is described as a “the most heinous, depraved descent into that mirky blackness captured by our modern recording equipment.”

For nearly 15 minutes, Mike Valenti of AM 1270′s The Sports Inferno, makes the long, painful descent into madness, as he reacts to Michigan State’s colossal implosion to Notre Dame.

The host goes so far as to suggest that he’d rather have HR Puff’n'stuff with Teddy Ruxpin as an assistant than to have Chris Smeland as a defensive coordinator.

Hopefully Chris Farley Valenti will make a quick recovery… in his van down by the river.

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When I was listening to that clip for the first time, I went back and forth between hysterics and absolute shock. If Michigan State pulls another Michigan State, I don’t know if Valenti will survive the experience. In any case, I’m about 15 hours late in sharing that this nugget along with a few of the following can be found in my update on SportsbyBrooks today:

After a rocky week, things are settling back down for me, so I should be around far more often from now on. I hope the weekend treats all of you well.
Cheers!

T.O. Needs Shauna, Not Kim Etheredge

I’m not really sure what one could say about the Terrell Owens situation that hasn’t been presented by a million media outlets, so what I’m offering to this discussion is beyond me. But I should probably get it out of the way, especially since I haven’t managed to talk about anything else…

When I first heard the news about the alleged attempt and that publicist, Kim Etheredge, called 911, I said, "Of course. At least he skipped Tonya Harding’s kidnap plot and went straight to the end game." Only on Planet Terrell Owens would a person attempt suicide and have emergency medical assistance summoned by their bloody publicist. The only thing that could have been more appropriate is if Drew Rosenhaus had met the EMTs in the street and advised them to meet the troubled receiver in the middle of the driveway… just look for the lights from the tv crews.

I initially believed that TO, haunted by internal demons and now troubled by the fact that he 1) gets less catches than Terry Glenn, 2) is 34, hurt, and on the last legs of his career, and 3) still can’t find any friends that aren’t on his payroll, orchestrated the ultimate act of selfishness to shine attention on himself. I don’t mean that he faked the attempt and went all Mr. Burns, waiting in devious glee until the tv trucks arrived. But I did believe that he’s dysfunctional enough to take a page from the book of Costanza and try to go out on a high note. If he survives, he gets an outpouring of emotion and attention that 1,000 Sharpie incidents couldn’t muster. If he dies, he’d be an instant legend, achieving the love and admiration in death that he never could in life.

But having thought it over, I doubt he’s a sick enough twist for that level of plotting. My guess is that this was a the valid attempt and a true cry for help. Those contemplating suicide often fire warning shots in situations where they can be saved but who knows. Maybe TO just out-TO’d himself. Maybe he didn’t. He has been so ridiculous for so long — ostensibly crying wolf so often that I’ve grown too numb to care.

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After watching nearly 24 hours of spin and speculation, I have a question — is there such a thing as publicist school? Where do you train for this? Is there a degree?

I graduated with a double major from a pretty reputable institution, I have a year and a half of post-grad under my belt, and I’ve carefully studied Shauna the Publicist in each episode of "Entourage." I’m a tough, no-nonsense girl with an abrasive personality. I’m incredibly articulate but can drop f-bombs like nobody’s business when necessary! And my accent grants me the luxury of sounding incredibly sophisticated and intelligent even though I may not know what day it is. Further, foolish people give me a pass for acting like an arse and making nasty comments because they’ve mistaken the behaviour for "dry British wit." [If I sounded like I was from the East Coast, people would just call me an asshole.] But I digress… So now I’m wondering if all of my "education" is enough for someone to say, "Hey, she’s qualified!" because, frankly, I could handle spin creation for the TO camp just as "well" as this Kim Etheredge character.

What a useless clown.

Only Terrell Owens could allegedly attempt suicide and have the masses react with skepticism, scorn, and jokes like "Even TO wants to kill TO!" (thanks, Matt). A person may have issued the ultimate cry for help and millions of us are thinking, "Nice stunt, jerk."

And that’s where the publicist steps in … or not, if you’re Kim Etheredge, a woman who has been publically dropping the ball since TO was apparently misquoted about being misquoted in his own book last year.

The national sports media has been held hostage over this issue for more than a day and no one from the Owens camp has taken proper advantage. Once mention of suicidal tendencies flies out of the box, you have no choice but to own it because that’s not something you can just bury with denials, cover stories, and glib behavior in a press conference. It’s rare that a situation looks like suicide (or attempt) but actually isn’t and while TO’s story is plausible, I don’t know who’s buying it.

Amazingly, this situation created the best opportunity for the Owens camp to show the world that Terrell is a sympathetic character… that we shouldn’t buy into the persona or the rumors… that Terrell Owens is a fragile man in an unfortunate situation – embrace him, learn from him, and wish him a healthy, speedy recovery, so he can rejoin the Dallas Cowboys and play the game he loves.

Look, I know all too well that no athlete wants to be branded as being weak or a head case but since The Catch II, TO has proven his mental toughness to us again and again. His strength of mind on the field hasn’t been questioned in nearly a decade but before yesterday, who of you didn’t think he was at least a little nuts? Who didn’t think the guy wasn’t suffering from some type of mood disorder?You can be a rock on the field and a crumbling mess off it, trust me.

Though Team TO runs the risk of the Cowboys finding cause to put him on the non-football injury list and wriggling out from under his $5 million salary, Jerry Jones makes the final decisions and he’s not about to take the "I told you so" beating from the national media over an issue like this. So why not take advantage and prey on our sympathies? I know it didn’t work with TO’s "book" but tugging at heart strings is easier when the act isn’t motivated by profits… It wouldn’t be a publicity stunt. It’d be spinning the information in your favor.

But rather than hit the easy button, the spinmeister opted to get aggressive and drop this snide bomb at the close of her press conference yesterday:

It’s not family or football or a love of life that keeps him going. It’s the 25 million bones and as long as he has it, the future Mike Tyson of the NFL will be blessed. Such a solid reason for living and such a great commentary to a nation of fans, the majority of whom who only have thirty thousand reasons not to kill themselves – or less.

But hey, maybe she’s doing us a favor. It’s her word choice that is preventing us from getting caught up in the emotion. See, with that comment, she reminded us that there are 25 million reasons to doubt everything her client does… that there are 25 million reasons for her client to keep acting like an ego-tripping douchebag. It’s pretty hard to feel sorry for a clown but I very nearly did. Thank God Kim Etheridge was around to snap me back into reality.

L’Shanah Tovah!

Well boys and girls, I’m back from the dead. Many thanks for the cards, messages, flowers, and even singing telegrams – they were all highly appreciated. 

Though I’m not 100%, I’m pretty functional and things should be getting back to normal around here starting, oh, sometime tomorrow. But until then, here’s a little useless information about my Saturday and a great video…

Since I’m actually a good Jew and manage to attend temple on Saturdays (most in the fall excluded, of course) that don’t fall within the High Holidays, I was hoping the Almighty wouldn’t mind if I rode out the New Year in bed. It’s not like I didn’t have a good excuse.

But I quickly realized that though I may have been able to escape judgement from our Creator, I could never escape the wrath of my mother, who advised that my soul would not only rot but it would also not be recorded in the Book of Life if I dared not examine my past wrongful deeds and ask for forgiveness for my sins. It sounds silly but she managed to scare me enough that I dragged myself to the synagogue even though I was loaded up on Percocet. I love this religion.

 In honor of me being the coolest Jewess that you know (and also because I need to take a nap), have a video and please, don’t feel bad about laughing… it won’t make you an anti-Semite.

Keith Richards and Ryder Cup WAGs

Niko, Guest Poster

Hello, mates! My cousin is still down and out (she should be back on Monday), so you’re stuck with me again.

The first thing I’m supposed to touch on is an article by the bloke at The Wade Blogs – he sent something to my cousin for her "consideration" (she said that means I have to write on it), so here we go.

The Wade Blogs takes a look at the Ryder Cup pairings and evaluates their WAGS (wives & girlfriends for you non-Brits). Let me tell you, mates, some of these birds are a right vomitous mess. Laurae Westwood, Melissa Lehman, Glendryth Wooseman (who looks like Mrs. Doubtfire), Lisa Cink, Amy DiMarco, Tabitha Furyk — Hideous.

I can maybe see shagging them if my life was in danger or if I had a burlap sack to cover up their mannish faces or if I was being blackmailed but bloody fucking Christ. When you’re a professional golfer making millions of paper, you’re allowed to have trophies and/or standards — just look at Phil Mickelson. If he was an everyday bloke, he’d be clamoring for the likes of the above-mentioned Glendryth Wooseman instead of a woman completely out of his league like his wife, Amy.

I’ll bet when Phil chats up God, the only thing he asks for is more championships and more money. If he lost it all tomorrow, something tells me Amy Mickelson’s knickers would be coming up mighty fast. But rather than follow Phil for example, some of these blokes look like they waved the white flag and settled for women whose best skill is probably making pies.

Many of the WAGs fall in the middle of the pack and are not worth comment; there are also some that are rated a little too high — e.g., Morgan Leigh-Norman who scores an "eagle" even though she looks like Greg Norman with female parts. But the article does include mentions of Elin Nordegren Woods, Amy Mickelson, and Diane Antonopoulos (all fully clothed, sadly), as well as a Sonya Toms shot from an SI Swimsuit issue. Bravo. I advise that when you visit this site today, don’t go past Amy Mickelson… the further down you scroll, the more tragic it becomes.

Here are some of the unfortunate looking ones:

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Keith Richards has quit drugs because he thinks the quality has gone down.

“All they do is try and take the high out of everything. I don’t like the way they’re working on the brain area instead of just through the blood system. That’s why I don’t take any of them any more.”

That’s a bloke who knows his drugs, so maybe he’s right. But Keef may want to consider the fact that one could make speedballs by using drops of his blood as a base ingredient. When the plaque that lines one’s arteries is made of cocaine and heroin, I don’t think a line will have the same effect as it did when you started drugging in 1946.

+ Today is Elephant Appreciation Day!

Send a card to the bird in your life and see if she comes looking for a fight.

Cheers!
Niko

The Arsenal Trounces ManUre, 1-0

Hello! I’m Niko, Flash’s cousin (our mothers are sisters). She’s currently on bedrest following an emergency surgery Saturday afternoon, so I’ve been charged with posting something useful. I’m not American and all I know of use is The Arsenal, so please bear with me… this won’t take long, as I will cop out after 250 words or less with clips from Youtube.

Arsene Wenger was quoted in The Observer as saying, "You never win the championship if you lose against Man United, Chelsea and Liverpool. You can forget it." I can’t think of any Championship year where we on the wrong end to these three and thanks to some positively brilliant play from the lads, we have one of the filthy cunts out of the way.

Given our performance thus far, I wasn’t sure how we would fare but from the whistle on, the Gunners decisively outplayed ManUre on every part of the pitch.  Even more remarkable is that we did so without the services of Thierry Henry, proving that even when he is on the bench, The Arsenal can still reach the highest of peaks.

Though most of our players had incredible showings (the exception being a quiet, often useless Freddie Ljungberg), the match was highlighted by the genius of three players: Cesc Fabregas, Emmanuel Adebayor, and Jens Lehmann.

Since we were playing without Henry and Robin van Persie, Arsene flooded the midfield with five men and we were handsomely rewarded with a dominant display in which Cesc Fabregas was outstanding. With 5 ticks in regulation, Fabregas robbed Cristina Ronaldo and worked his way back upfield. After a little trickery, he slipped an inspired, perfectly weighted pass to Adebayor, who flicked his shot past Tomasz Kuszczak to give the Gunners our first win at Old Trafford since 2002. It was master class and sucked any remaining hope of victory from the United side.

Equally brilliant was Mad Jens Lehmann. He saved a rocket from Cristina Ronaldo quite literally with his face in the first half but it was his play in the second that assured him of legend status in my mind. Just moments after Adebayor’s goal, he made the save of a lifetime, turning away Ole Gunnar Solskjaer’s late effort. The strike came through a sea of legs and was heading for the bottom corner when Jens managed to get his fingertips on the ball and pushed it wide of the goal. He’s a god. He is a legend.

And with that, mates, here are the clips!

Cheers!

Niko

Notre Dame Fan Gets Full Body Wax for Tickets

I had a great post on The Arsenal finally coming through on the pitch this year but I broke my nose before I could post it and spent most of yesterday afternoon at the hospital. For the superficial readers, no, my face has not been rearranged and my nose looks fine. The concussion aside, the only downside to this incident are the raccoon eyes that I’ll be rocking for the next 2 weeks… I look like a domestic abuse poster.

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If you thought injury humbled Kellen Winslow, think again. The tight end, who most recently tore his ACL by going Excite Bike in a parking lot, got into a war of words with Chad Johnson.

Winslow: “My boy, [Leigh] Bodden, is going to shut him down as he did last year. He’s the best corner in the league. It’s a big challenge for him, but it’s also a big challenge for Chad [Johnson], so tell him that.”
Johnson: “It’s humanly impossible to stop [No.] 85. You are kind of insulting me. I cannot be stopped. Period.”

Only one thing would be better than seeing Winslow blown up in the open field again by Randy Starks and that is Chad Johnson scoring and, in the ultimate smackdown, doing a motorcycle dance near the Browns sideline.

Anyway, checkout my update today at SportsbyBrooks where you can see a lot of tits and my take on other nuggets like:

PS. If you came here looking for the article about the Notre Dame fan getting a full body wax for tickets, click here for a video of the incident.

Gators ‘D’ to Vols: We’re Taking Your Cheese to Make Deluxe Sammiches!

As fans of college football are aware, the Florida Gators travel to hostile Neyland Stadium this weekend to face the Tennessee Volunteers.

After a season where they failed to look coordinated enough to walk and chew gum at the same time, Tennessee’s offense came out the gate this season looking quite impressive, thanks in no small part to the addition of OC David Cutcliffe. But according to UF safety Tony Joiner, who lead the defensive effort against offensive juggernauts Southern Miss and Central Florida, the Vol offense isn’t just about to slow down. It’s going to get shutout.

"That really is where we want to get. We really want to get into somebody else and take their cheese. Make a sandwich in the kitchen. Ham and cheese with a little turkey, mustard and mayonnaise."

Anyone wanna take a guess at how well ole Tony did on the analogies and metaphors in the SAT?

I spent a few minutes trying to break down his statement and figured that cheese must be moxy or, even better, confidence! But why cheese for confidence? I had a Roasted Chicken Breast at Subway last night and while the melted shredded cheese made it good, the chipotle sauce made it a party in my mouth. If anything, Remedial Tony needs to be worried about stealing the chipotle… and I need to move on.

The one thing that isn’t in question here is Remedial Tony’s belief that the Gators, who shut out Central Florida and held Southern Miss to 7 points, have the best defense in the nation.

"That’s how we feel, that’s how we are going to play and that’s what we’re going to look forward to doing week in and week out, shut a team out…"We really can (do it again)."

Against Tennessee this week?

"Yes… We’re just playing with unbelievable confidence right now. "We have a bunch of guys who are very, very talented who are getting the job done every time we step on the field. We just feel like it. We have a great scheme, we have great defensive coaches. Everything is in place."

Well, I guess that settles it. Remedial Tony & the Gator Crew are confident and they “just feel like it.”

I seem to recall similar smack (“It could be a blowout or just a regular victory”) before the Gators walked into Tuscaloosa and got their asses handed to them but who knows, maybe Remedial’s right. The Vols need to be put on notice at the very least! God forbid they show up to Neyland on Saturday with that good Colby-Jack deli cheese only to be stripped of it and lose their chances at the SEC title.

HT: The Pen

Do You Take Lee Corso Seriously?

I was walking to the track to take the boys through their penalty sprints this morning, when a random kid crossed my path.

"Whoa! Can you believe what Lee Corso said about us Saturday?! He’s SO STUPID! He picked ____! I can’t believe it!" I nodded and said something about Corso being a no-nothing assclown, figuring that’d be the end of it. It was not. He told me all about a letter he’s writing to ESPN, chastising them for allowing Corso on the air. So that’s when I asked him, "Do you take Lee Corso seriously?"

"Well yeah, don’t you?! I mean, he’s a freaking ESPN analyst. He’s supposed to know what’s up! This is total bullshit!…" You get the idea.

Now, I used to be one of the idiots that got up in arms about the College Gameday crew predictions (not quite on this level though). It wasn’t so much that they picked Team A over B or Team Y over Z that made me mad; it was the ridiculous logic they used to justify their calls:

–> A dramatization:

Lee Corso: Michigan will beat No-Trah Dame because No-Trah Dame will be looking ahead to Michigan State AND looking behind against Penn State!
Kirk Herbstreit: But Michigan has been a long time rival of the Irish, I can’t imagine Notre Dame not taking them serious–
Corso: Not so fast, my friend! *slams fist on desk* The Irish WILL look past the Woooolveriiiiines.

But as soon as I wised up and accepted the fact that some of these goons don’t know what day it is — that Lee Corso is nothing but a clown present to entertain the drunken Gameday horde, that Lou Holtz’s reasons for Notre Dame beating Team X is just as mentally defective as Mark May’s reason that they’ll be blown out by 20, that Chris Fowler’s just lucky he’s not doing women’s basketball on the Deuce — I directed my rage at other happenings.

There’s just no logical reason to take these jerk-offs seriously. So the next time you get your panties in a bunch over these frauds, remember this picture and know that there’s a reason Lee Corso is hanging out at College Gameday instead of the sideline where he thinks he belongs

Mrs. Manning: He’ll Always be My Little Peytee-Pie

While watching the Today Show this morning, I caught an interview with Peyton & Eli Manning’s mom. Her name escapes me but is it really of any consequence? In any case, she spent the entire interview sharing a bevy of inappropriate things that no mother should say about her NFL sons (or any son for that matter).

Eventually, the interview turned to nicknames and when asked if she had a special nickname for Peyton she said (her voice oozing with Southern charm),

"He’ll always be my little Peyteepie."

Yes, you read that correctly: Peytee-Pie. 

Now, to Peytee’s credit, he’s seen pleading with his mother not to call him that on television but the attempt was futile.

The conversation then shifted to Eli, who Mrs. Manning previously called out as a mama’s boy… Does he have a nickname?

"E-pie." Because he was jealous of Peyton being Peytee-Pie.

There simply cannot be anything worse than being a quarterback in the NFL (who is not too fleet of foot, might I add) and having your mother bust you out like that. Who knows, maybe she wants her boys’ faces beaten in… after watching all of the Manning commercials, I can see how even she might be fed up with their awkward, socially inept attempts at marketing.

But Eli and Peyton being about as animated as those puppets they used on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood shouldn’t give Mama Manning carte blanche to be the most inconsiderate NFL mother in the land. Of all people, a woman whose been around the game for 30 years ought to know better! But when you think of E&P Pie as nothing more than little boys playing 7th grade football at Newman, I suppose consequences for comments like this don’t enter your mind.

When Michael "On the DL" Strahan has Peyton on his back Sunday night and is calling him HIS little Peytee-Pie, number 18 had better hope the sack master doesn’t like the situation too much… then he could really be in a jam.

Hit the Road, Rafa McFly!

I’m not fond of Rafael Nadal. It’s not personal; I don’t think he’s a bad chap or anything. There are just a couple things about him that really grate at my nerves.

The first problem is his style of play. I like the power game. I like big serves. I like classic, hard-hitting strokes and rallies that end with winners or spectacular shots. I grew up on Becker and Sampras and stay entertained with Federer and Roddick. I’m an aggressive girl who likes aggressive displays in all sports and when it comes to tennis, those styled in the clay court mold don’t fit into my entertainment plans.

And that’s where Rafael Nadal comes in (or maybe, goes out). The King of Clay, though charismatic and emotional, is more like multi-directional Pong, forcing opponents to self-destruct while he runs from here to there to everywhere, returning missiles with huge, looping strokes, never quite allowing you to put him away – no matter what you do with the ball. If you want to get it past Nadal, you’d better hit an overhead that bounces into the stands right around row Z. Otherwise, he’ll magically reach it and loop a return right back to you.

Granted, there’s certainly a place in tennis for the motion machine that lunges, slashes, and employs any other action verb to keep a rally going and then rubs it in your face after you tire out. There’s a place for the crafty player, the gutsy one, the one that does whatever he can to survive. And I respect that player. I respect Nadal. I just don’t like watching it. 

His style aside, there’s nothing of substance to dislike about the Mallorcan, but that’s where my shallow, superficial nature enters the picture… The flowing, Vidal Sassoon locks that wave effortlessly in the breeze, the "look at my pulse" shirts, the Rebel at a Clambake getup… I can’t hardly look at the bloke without shaking my head and wondering what boob told him all of that was a good idea. But I suppose you can’t mock him for his appearance anymore than we did Agassi with his neon spandex and highlighted mullet back in the day. But ya know something, at least Agassi never pulled some shite like this:

THAT is an egregious crossing of the line. It’s not enough that his shoes look like something Marty McFly, Jr wore in Back to the Future, Part II.
Now he’s being rooted on by his own freaking shoes. I’m sorry but no! No more!

Now, I know Nike is running a "Vamos Rafa" campaign but you don’t put the slogan ON the apparel that the person wears in competition! Can you imagine if Michael Jordan had carried around a Gatorade water bottle that said "Be Like Mike" or if he put the phrase on his shoes? That’s simply unacceptable. Save it for the commercials, posters, and print ads. Rafael Nadal is enough of a tool already… there’s no reason for Nike to add insult to injury!

Luckily, it’s all over, for this tournament, at least, as not even Winged Victory herself could see Nadal through last night. He went down in 4 sets to unseeded Russian, Mikhail Youzhny.

After winning the first set, Youzhny lost his grip on the match as Nadal evened matters and threatened to take the third set. There were fist pumps and emotional displays for all. The Spaniard held a 5-4, 40-love lead but squandered three set points, eventually losing a tiebreaker. Youzhny raced to a 5-0 lead before Nadal held serve in the fourth set. The Spaniard even had a break point in the next game, but Youzhny was not to be derailed and served out for the win.

**UPDATE! It seems Rafa and his hideous, vinyl shoes may be apart of a Nike McFly campaign, the only shoe on the market with power laces!

If you’d like Nike to produce these beauts, sign the petition. After all, it is we, the movie loving public, that’s getting the short end on this one… Think about all the silver screen shoes that you can walk in any store and buy — Eddie Murphy’s Adidas from Beverly Hills Cop. The Nike Cortez worn by Forrest Gump. Uma Thurman’s Kill Bill Tigers. Rocky’s Chuck Taylors. The list goes on and on. And when you’re looking at movie sneakers, the Air McFlys are the only ones that were created for film and never worn beyond the silver screen.

That, boys and girls, is a shame.

**Update thanks to Al Cabino, founder of the Nike McFly effort.