Warning! Raiders Draft Does Not Compute

Being a glutton for punishment, I tuned in to the NFL Draft on Saturday equipped with 2 six packs of Rogue Brutal Bitter and a box of Kleenex. I was going to need both for a variety of reasons with Oakland’s continued commitment to mediocrity being one of my primary concerns.

While the talking heads ran their mouths about nothing in particular, I began entertaining thoughts of a draft day trade where the Raiders ended up with Calvin Johnson, a free agent quarterback, and a bevy of draft picks. These delusions of grandeur got a little running room when Ed Werder appeared with rumors and conjecture but I snapped back into reality when Roger Goodell announced the obvious – the Raiders, attempting to make up for missing Matt Leinart and Jay Cutler in 2006 – were going with Jamarcus Russell as the #1 pick in 2007… Color me disappointed… I see "bust" written all over this kid and if that’s true, our franchise will be set back another ten years. I hope I’m wrong.

I downed six beers over the course of the first round but then, in the second, something magical happened: "The Oakland Raiders draft Zach Miller, Tight End, from Arizona State."

The number two tight end on the board? I couldn’t help but wonder if the Raiders were taking this draft seriously. Where were the DBs? The lightning-quick athletes with no actual position? The D-IAA or DII lineman that dominated the Directional Liberal Arts Conference? I could only conclude that someone in the war room must have realized that the Raiders haven’t had a tight end that could catch since Dave Casper Todd Christensen*.

I’m not even sure where our current crop of tight ends came from. The starter, Courtney Anderson, is a 7th round pick from 04 who has no redeeming qualities but I can’t make heads or tails on the rest of our guys. I remember Doug Jolley being on the roster but I’m not sure what happened to him. At some point, we were also pained with non-skill of Teyo Johnson, a Stanford product who is likely making pancakes these days in Michael Huff’s IHOP. Hmm. Well anyway, Mel Kiper called Miller a poor man’s Todd Heap (we passed on Heap to waste money on Derrick Gibson) and I’ll take it, gladly.

From there, the goodness just piled on. Quentin Moses (DE), Mario Henderson (OT), God smiled when we picked up RB Michael Bush out of Louisville, and then, the most glorious news of all: Randy Moss to the Patriots! Granted, we got him in exchange for a sack of dirty towels and a bottle of Tide but I don’t really care.

I have sat in seething hatred of the New England Patriots since the Tuck Rule ruined my hopes way back in 2002. Though I have developed reasons to root for them every now and again, that pain will never leave and a part of me is always rooting for their demise. Being excited about Randy Moss making a new home with them, especially when he still rips a 4.29-40, is in complete opposition to that. But Randy Moss and his quitter’s attitude was a cancer in the Raider locker room. He has made no secret of his distaste for the new staff, new system, and new quarterback, and if we are to get anything accomplished with Opie Taylor leading the way, he had to go. While it would have been nice to get more for him than a sack of dirt, no team would have ever gone for it. What’s he done in the last three years other than bitch, moan, and take plays off? No GM in their right mind is paying top dollar for a POS like that. Oh well. It’s going to sting like mad when Tom Brady lights Moss up for 7 touchdowns at the next two Super Bowls but we’re better off in the long run.

All of this good draft news notwithstanding, I still got sodding rat arsed. It was just too much to handle all in one day. System overload, I suppose. By the time Day 1 was over, I was out of beer, out of sorts, and out of commission. All in all, however, a Bravo to Al Davis and the Raiders. I don’t know how they managed to not cock this up but I know better than to ask too many questions.

Draft Grade: B
Explanation: Jamarcus Russell = -10 percentage points. Sorry. I’m just petty that way.  

*A fine chap named Barry C corrected an oversight, advising that we actually have had a tight end that could catch since Dave Casper – the mighty HOFer Todd Christensen.

Gary Sheffield Gets on Hank Aaron’s Case

How Hank Aaron chooses to deal with Bonds hitting 757 is his business – unless you ask Gary Sheffield. While on the Worst Damn Sports Show Ever, the mustache weighed in on whether Hank Aaron should show up when Barry Bonds breaks his home run record:

"I wish Aaron would. We’ve been through a lot as African-Americans, and I just believe we should support each other."

We’ve been through a lot? What, does Hammer not realize this? Has he not lived and breathed it every day of his seventy-three years? I suppose a life where growing up in the Deep South, suffering daily injustices, and then, in his greatest hour, battling death threats, persecution, and untold amounts of opposition from racists and ignorant malcontents wasn’t enough for the old guy to catch a clue. Guys like Aaron, Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays, Satchel Paige, Buck O’Neal, and Frank Robinson are the ones that went through a lot as African Americans, they are the ones who endured unimaginable hardships. Their bravery and courage gave African American athletes the opportunity to chase any record they choose without fear of facing the same adversity. But it also gave jerks like Gary Sheffield and privileged brats like Barry Bonds the opportunity to cheat and then whine when people don’t let them get away with it. And these players – the Bonds and Sheffields of the world – are a disgrace to those that came before them.

Now, maybe this is one of those situations where I simply don’t understand what it’s like to be African American and I’m just talking out of my arse. But to me, Sheffield’s comments don’t just smack of pure ignorance, they’re also disrespectful to an honorable man that long carried the flag in the struggle against racism. Hank Aaron is behaving with dignity, as he always has, in the face of some entitled punk sullying the legacy of the most hallowed record in sport – a record that, when he broke it, was a triumph for African Americans everywhere. In light of that, what does he expect Aaron to say?

"You’re right, Gary. I think Bonds cheated his way to a record that I walked through the pits of hell to achieve and normally, I wouldn’t want to be associated with or caught supporting such egregious behavior. But since he’s also African American… well, hmm, let’s call it bygones."

That’s not how it works! Stand by, support, and cheer anyone that’s fighting like hell for glory. If you share the same race, great. But when that person is a cheating, fraudulent abomination that is making a mockery of an institution, as well as accomplishments for your own race of people, any sense of obligation needs to fall away. Shame on anyone who tries to guilt people into thinking otherwise.

Put Gary Sheffield down on my list of people that need a swift steel-toed boot to the face. 

The Sky Is Falling In the Bronx

Abandon ship! Fire Cashman! Fire Torre! Give Clemens $70 million! Trade A-Rod for young pitching! Red Sux in first with no sign that they’ll ever lose again! Abandon ship!

We’re 8-11, last in the AL East, got swept by the D-Rays, and if I closed my eyes, I’d swear that our bullpen was replaced with girls from my high school softball team. Maybe the Mets will take A-Rod for Endy Chavez and Aaron Heilman… that Chavez is a speedster and Heilman’s got moxie. Or wait, what about the entire Tigers rotation plus Joel Zumaya! Yeah, that’d be the trick! But are they too smart to let that pass? Damn. Just wait until A-Rod gets off this hot streak and the pitching STILL sucks. We’ll be in extra last! It’ll be curtains for the Yanks then. Looks like it’s time for me to cancel MLB TV and my XM subscription because at four games back in the fourth week of April, history tells me that it’s all a wash:

2000: 15-27 record in May and June, 3-15 record at the end of the season, David Cone started and went 4-14 with a 6.91 ERA, worst record of all teams in the playoffs. Outcome: World Series.

2004: 8-11 to begin the year, swept at home by Boston, worst starting pitching of any 100-win team in the history of the game. Outcome: Worst playoffs collapse in the history of sports.

 

2005: 11-19 to start the season, 3-9 midwest road trip in early June, splintered clubhouse, Gary Sheffield’s mustache, 54-28 record after the All-Star game with a 16-5 run to erase a four-game deficit at the close of September. Outcome: Nauseating playoffs display against the Angels.

1. Boston and Baltimore get off to a torrid start, leaving New York, Toronto, and any other schmucky team in their wake. Fans squawk. Yankees finish April below .500.
2. Tampa Bay bends us over and violates us. Blame A-Rod.
3. Yankees pitching staff is patchworked with prospects, has-beens/never was/never will be’s, and oldsters that live on the DL. Losses pile up.
4. ESPN douchepumps and opposing fans whisper that the wheels are finally falling off
5. Yankees get hot (except when the D-Rays show); rest of AL East gets cold
6. AL East Champion: New York Yankees
7. Shameful playoff exit

Ann Coulter & JJ Walker – Am I Missing Something?

Reuters: Actor Jimmie ‘J.J.’ Walker of the television series Good Times and cunt Ann Coulter pose as they arrive together for the taping of the 5th Annual TV Land Awards in Santa Monica, California April 14, 2007.

Is anyone else confused? I can’t make heads or tails of it. We have to assume that Jimmie Walker is too cracked out to see the irony of this pairing, so asking about his involvement will get us nowhere. But what about Coulter? She is the most bigoted cunt of the modern age. You’d think she’d cut out her adam’s apple before going within 50 feet of Mr. Dy-no-mite. But since it appears to be in tact, there must be some other explanation. I can think of six and even they are a stretch:

1. “Sure, I’m a homophobe but I’m not a racist. Black people think I’m dy-no-mite!” (Unlikely)
2. She plans to drop the n-bomb at the next Republican fundraiser and needs an anecdote or interesting experience to pose as a lead in. (Possible)
3. She was drugged. (Possible – too many estrogen pills?)
4. She is being held hostage. (Unlikely. You take hostages to an undisclosed location, not the TV Land awards. Then again…)
5. As a part of her contract with Satan, she has to engage in zany shenanigans. Bonus points if she could get John Amos to appear on the other side. In exchange, Satan continues to allow her fame, fortune, and the freedom to be an unmitigated cunt without fear of true consequences. (Very possible)
6. Young Ann Coulter loved her some Good Times. (Unlikely. Her brand of cuntiness starts at birth.)

I’m leaning toward five but if it’s six, we need to drag out the time machine to see just where Ann Coulter went wrong.

(link swiped from Paul Katcher)

PFA Award: Cristina Ronaldo > Snoop Drog

Cristina Ronaldo took home the double last night, winning the PFA Young Player of the Year and the Player of the Year awards. Though wholly lacking in testosterone and class, Cristina is in spectacular form this year but I still hoped the awards would go to Didier Drogba and Cesc Fabregas.

Cesc really had no chance but I kinda thought Drogba might. He had a storming season at the Bridge, saving Chel$ki’s arses on numerous occasions. Cristina’s brilliance notwithstanding shouldn’t Drogba’s season-saving efforts count more than what is accomplished by a prancing nancy that plays for the New York Yankees of the EPL?

The answer to that 100% serious question is yes. As such, Drogba’s failure to take home the Player of the Year award must be unrelated to a supposedly brilliant season by Cristina and more to do with something tragic like this:

“CHELSEA’S DIDIER DROGBA looks set to be a hit-man off the pitch — with his own rap album.

The Premiership’s top scorer will release the SNOOP DOGG-style tracks under the alias DROGBACITE.” (The Sun, of course)

No one in their right mind would knowingly vote for a raplete, least of all one who chooses to identify himself with a name that sounds like the bacteria eating away at Al Davis’ brain. Oh well.

My real issue is this: When will the tragicomedy of professional athletes plying their trades as rappers come to an end? Haven’t we all suffered enough? Having enough money to find a decent producer that can pump out some semi-catchy tracks shouldn’t give one license to try to be Jay-Z but let’s pretend that it does. How does one get the urge to cut a rap album or even a track?

I understand how it works when you’re trying to rap your way out of poverty.. when your only lyrical fodder is guns, violence, and the tragic circumstances of your life. But when you’re a professional athlete sitting on millions upon millions and, quite often, with championships to your name, how does the mood strike? Are you sitting in your Cribs-esque home (or dorm room), watching the three girls you just banged walk past your MVP trophy and think to yourself, “Damn. Being me owns. I oughta rap about it and tell everybody how hard I am.” Is that how it works? Or is it just an extension of the theory that all singers want to be actors, all actors want to be Hamlet, and all comedians want to write novels? Whatever it is, it has to stop.

If you played any of these efforts at a party, your guests would mock you and leave in disgust.

Chicago Bears Shufflin Crew: Super Bowl Shuffle, nominated for a Grammy

’86 Oakland Raiders Music Video

Deion Sanders: Prime Time

Shaquille O’Neal: Shaq Diesel, Shaq Fu: Da Return, Kazaam soundtrack…

Kobe Bryant: Visions (with Tyra Banks singing the hook on the single K.O.B.E., sounded like a weak, latter day Will Smith)

Clint Dempsey: Don’t Tread

Tony Parker: TP

Terrell Owens: Eagles’ Diss Rap

Mike Ditka: that Grabowski crap where he wore those Zubaz pants

University of Michigan’s Measly Penny Crew

University of Miami’s 7th Flo Crew

UConn basketball’s Ed Nelson: Pickup Truck

Ron Artest: My World

Allen Iverson: Non-Fiction (homophobic anthem sung by A.I.’s alter-ego “Jewelz”)

Roy Jones, Jr.: Round One: the Album, Body Head Bangerz Vol. 1

Jason Kidd, Gary Payton, Dana Barros, JR Rider, et al: Basketball’s Best Kept Secret

Ricky Watters: Eye of a Hawk

Chris Webber: Too Much Drama

Macho Man Randy Savage: Be A Man (rags on Hulk Hogan in a Rob Zombie sort of way)

Hulk Hogan: posing as or living vicariously through Brooke Hogan; I can’t figure it out

Multiple WWF/WWE compilation albums

Didier Drogba: Drogbacite

I’m all for exploring one’s talents but at no time in the history of rapletes has any one of these blokes had a sodding lick of it that didn’t involve hand-eye coordination. Now, if Tony Parker or Shaquille O’Neal or Clint Dempsey wanted to take up professional juggling or hacky sack, that would make perfect sense but rapping?

The fair majority of rap requires absolutely no talent. Anyone armed with a 3rd grade vocabulary and a pair of Timberlands can be one of millions paid to repeat asinine phrases like “skeet skeet skeet,” “till the sweat drips off my balls,” and “slap her with a dick.”

But rap done properly – the type where the voice is used as a rhythmic instrument instead of thuggish grunting and inane rambling for a club – actually requires talent, intelligence, and skill. So if you’re a professional athlete, why subject yourself to the humiliation? Why be the guy music critics compare to a latter day, watered down Will Smith? Part of being a pro is having an ego the size of Wyoming but if you have a modicum of pride, why add yourself to the millions of faux-thug tools whose lyrical skill is based in telling you exactly why they’re fly and precisely why you’re not (the answer is:”I’m hot ’cause I’m fly; You ain’t ’cause you’re not”), and if asked not to use a verse that includes some Chronic 2001 cliche, their brains might explode?

It makes no sense to me.

Beer Launching Fridge

It’s times like these that I wish I had a modicum of useful talent… if I could get another one that launched delicious nachos (without making a mess, of course), I’d be all set.

Calvin Johnson to Oakland Suddenly More Realistic

If I had to guess, 75% of players eligible for this year’s NFL Draft have used marijuana. Hell, 10% are probably using as I type. But three players out of that 75% (or whatever the number happens to be) are projected to be top-10 picks in a couple of weeks; one of them is Calvin Johnson.

Now, I want to make it clear that I don’t care that Johnson has smoked marijuana. The dreadful odor aside, I can’t find any negatives that would rank lower than those associated with alcohol, cigarettes, or any other mind-altering substance. For all we know, the sweet ganja is what makes him so sleep, smooth and refreshing.
But his admission is pretty important and should be given proper focus. Why? Because the Oakland Raiders’ number 1 draft pick is at stake. 

You see, I admire Johnson for doing the right thing by admitting to past behaviors that others may look upon unfavorably. It’s incredible courageous, especially when millions are at stake. But this act didn’t just show coaches, fans, and general managers that he can tell the truth. This admission caused Al Davis to turn his hearing aid up a notch. Do you realize how crucial this is at T-15 days to draft time? Suddenly, Duante Culpepper Redux ain’t lookin so hot! Though what I’m really hoping for is a decision to trade down for more picks, this may be the best non-Jamarcus alternative that Al will agree to, so consider my hope restored!

Al loves the "troubled but talented and trying to reform" routine and if that’s what it takes to snag Calvin Johnson at number 1, then please Calvin – keep smoking and telling us about it! You can do it, buddy.

The Oakland Raiders need you.

My sanity needs you… and so do my ulcers.

[IMG: CalvinJohnsonOnline] 

Vick Donates More to Valtrex Than Victims’ Families

Michael Vick, who is likely the richest and most well-known former student of Virginia Tech University, felt so sorry for the victims of this massacre that he donated not $100, $500 or even $1000. Nope, this kind citizen chipped in a cool $10,000! And if you’re mocking his contribution, shame on you. $10,000 is some serious paper at work for a guy who has the highest NFL contract in the history of the league and pulled in $23,102,750 from the NFL alone in 2005. What can you really expect?

Besides, it wasn’t long ago that the NFL fined him just as much for flipping off Atlanta Falcons fans, so I could see how he might think it fit to lay the same amount of cash on 32 families whose loved ones were just lost in a senseless tragedy. That said – making any donation at all is a great thing but I can’t help but think that a man of such substantial riches who sees it fit to spend tens of thousands on frivolities like rims for cars he drives a few times a year could have done a little more. I guess my logic is this – if you can drop $100K on a customized H2, why not this as well? I dunno. Maybe I’m being unreasonable.

Anyway, earlier this morning, Vin from SportsColumn sent me an IM, asking if I thought he was a jerk for thinking Vick’s drop in the bucket donation was an act of superdickery.  I did my best to help disavow him of such notions…

Sportscolumn: Did you see Michael Vick is donating $10k to assist families of the VT tragedy? Is it wrong that I think that’s cheap as hell?

Flash Warner: It’s completely dick, especially when he probably spends more than that a year on his Valtrex prescription. Michael Vick is a complete waste. He was fined just as much for flipping off Falcons fans last year. Maybe this is his designated charity for the funds..

SC: Exactly. What’s 10k? After his accountant gets through with it, he’s out 5k. I realize that his name adds something to this cause… but what? It’s not like this is some niche charity that needs his celebrity.

FW: This was a completely insensitive move. I assure you, the 24s that one of his 8 Escalades is sitting on cost double. My guess is that the donation will go up after the mockery and outrage starts to increase

SC: Right. If you’re going to make a donation, make it one that is more than the jewelry you allegedly lost in your non-marijuana holding water bottle. “When tragic things like this happen, families have enough to deal with, and if I can help in some small way, that’s the least I can do,” said Vick

FW: Some small way is right maybe they can have pizza at the memorial now

SC: How about you put down the bong and fly up to Blacksburg to talk to the kids. You’re a loser, a terrible QB, and a dick but you’re still a legend up there.

FW: How long do you think it’ll take him to come to that conclusion though? Even with the water bottle thing, it took him 3 months to realize that we needed an explanation beyond “that’s mine. they can’t take it” He is completely consumed with himself. The only way Virginia Tech is getting more money from him is if they promise to put his name on the stadium. It’s pathetic.

SC: Michael Vick just called and said, “Did i donate 10k? If I’m donating, don’t criticize me. That’ all I’m saying.” By the way, overlooked in our hatred for Michael Vick is the fact that he did donate *something*. Too bad he’s such a douchebag and can’t count. He probably thinks it’s a lot of money.

FW: I think it’s great that he at least made an effort but he’s probably the richest and most well-known former student they have he can’t find it in his budget to give a little more? If there was a massacre at Syracuse, I can’t imagine Donovan McNabb sending a $10K check and calling it a day

SC: I wish Randy Moss would come out and donate $20k cash and say “what’s 20k to me? ain’t shit. Michael Vick can s%$ my dick”

FW: That will only work if he throws out a “straight cash homey” in there as well

Calamity James: Where Are the Gay EPL Stars?

In addition to his fortnightly column with The Observer, David "Calamity" James – current keeper for Portsmouth – has done a little sport blogging for the Guardian. In his most recent installment, he asks where the gay stars are hiding in the English Premier League. Normally, I’d be surprised that any prominent athlete would make such a lengthy statement but this is David James we’re talking about — a straight bloke so secure in his masculinity that he has strutted down Giorgio Armani’s catwalk, modeled for H&M, and painted nude portraits of his teammates. If anyone in the EPL has the stones to write 2,000 words advocating for the tolerance of gay athletes, I’d place him at the front of the line.

James handles the issue in the context of general celebrity, thinking that if you can be out and proud in other forms of entertainment, then why not sport as well? If 1 in 10 people are gay, there should be at least one on every starting XI and at least a couple per team. And if those statistics hold true, there should be some gay or bisexual stars in our midst. As such, he asks:

Why should football be different? Are football fans really so incapable of watching a gay player without abusing him? 

Hmm… let’s see here, Calamity. We are a sport with teams supported by psychotic, racist hooligans that actually travel for the specific purpose of physically assaulting opposing fans. We are a sport where a multitude of fanbases find it acceptable to bellow "paki" and "death to Arabs" chants, make Nazi salutes, and hoot monkey sounds and toss banana peels every time a player of African descent touches the ball. Gee, I wonder why a homosexual would be in fear of coming out. Sure, players aren’t getting covered in boot polished and hided anymore but all the same, this isn’t the figure skating crowd.

That said, all of these negatives certainly haven’t stopped Cristina Ronaldo. If only more players could have such courage. Louis Vuitton manpurse, snakeskin Prada belt, frosted tips, and an eye for the goal.

Bravo, Cristina. You’re a bloody pioneer…

Hat-tip: Can’t Stop the Bleeding

Update: Bode Miller Still Missing His Sack

Once again, Bode Miller is executing bad form. Though still enjoying the World Cup circuit, Miller said that if he’s still skiing in 2010, he will skip that year’s Winter Olympics because his 2006 experience was so painfully dreadful.

"There’s too much emphasis on winning," he said during an appearance at BodeFest, a charity ski event that raises money for his Turtle Ridge Foundation. "Being the front man for it in the last Olympics, I thought it was terrible… That was the reason [my behavior] was so terrible, the reason I was a hard ass."

Pardon me while I laugh. A hard ass? Bode must be confused. A hard-ass walks into Turino and beats the fuck out of the competition. A hard ass is intense, fierce, and takes no-nonsense from the competition’s beginning to its end. You, Bode Miller, are not a hard ass. Partying with women that look like they were rode hard and put away wet and then coming through with no medals doesn’t make make the cut. Thumbing your nose at the USOC, US Ski Team, and international ski federation doesn’t help either. Those actions simply make you a whiny bitch that can’t live up to hype you helped generate.

It may be a newsflash to the Bodester but I vividly recall him signing the multi-million dollar Nike contract on his own — I don’t think he was under pain of death by "the man" to do so. I also remember the Join Body campaign, the countless "Cribs-esque" visits into his life, and all of that Bodhisattva on skis bullshit he was aching for us to buy into and embrace so he’d make more money.

This jackass fucked up his own chi and now he wants to whine about it? I refuse.

The thing is, I don’t blame him for taking advantage of the fame and the millions or even for refusing to give the Olympics another try. What I blame him for is representing a country and having so little respect for his position that the only medal he actually made an effort to bring home had a bottle of Captain Morgan etched on the back. The fact that he can’t recognize that, opting instead to blame America’s poisoned culture, makes this "too much emphasis on winning" business as laughable as it is disgusting. How Bode Miller can look himself in the mirror after a comment like that completely baffles me. This guy needs to be tarred, feathered, and thrown in a chicken coop. He is unfit.

So here it is, Bode. You’re a coward that sold out for the fame, money, and women and threw a tantrum when you didn’t like the consequences. Face it. Embrace it. Own it. It’s the only thing we’ll ever remember about you.