posted on Mar, 8 2005 @ 04:50 PM
Contrary to popular opinion, televised sport isn't "the original reality TV"...
It was, however, the first "real TV" to be broadcast in America. And believe me, I should know. I used to work in the reality TV business. It's one
step above working for Phillip Morris. While cigarettes actively kill human beings, reality TV passively sucks the life out of living, but with a
similar result: You're one step closer to the grave. If you want to watch people do amazing things, watch sports. But if you want to watch other
people live their lives because you're too lazy to do it yourself, watch reality TV...
Relievers don't deserve earned run averages. Never have. After all, assigning a nine-inning projection to an inning or so of work is pure statistical
folly. If I run the mile in under four minutes, does that mean I run the 2-mile in under eight? Absolutely not! And if I run a 4.3 40, does that mean
I can run 400 yards in 43 seconds? Not a chance. So I ask you, once again, for the last time: Why should we give a guy credit for a full day of work
when he can't even make it to lunch?
The front page of last Tuesday's Boston Globe sports section featured quite the non-story: "Lucchino pleads ignorance: He says he didn't suspect
Caminiti was using steroids." By Caminiti, they mean former NL MVP Ken. And by Lucchino, they mean former Padres and current Red Sox CEO Larry. Sad,
isn't it? We can't find any real proof of abuse even though we're certain it's going on, so instead of looking harder, we're accusing non-abusing,
non-accusing executives of not accusing abusers, ex post facto-style? Just because (San Diego GM) Kevin Towers "felt like he knew" doesn't mean
Lucchino has to talk, never mind feel one way or the other, regardless of what he knows...
Is a grown-up bat boy a bat man? And is Batman nothing more than a grown-up bat boy?
Remember last year when Atlanta sent Shareef Abdur-Rahim to Portland for Rasheed Wallace, only to trade Wallace to Detroit a few days later for
virtually nothing? As the story goes, the vastly improved Pistons went on to shock the world by crushing the Lakers in the NBA Finals. This year, the
Hawks are at it again. But their team of choice is the Celtics. Atlanta gave Boston Antoine Walker for Gary Payton just before the trade deadline,
only to give Payton back to Boston just a few days later, free of charge. The Hawks emerged from the trade markedly worse (if that's even possible),
the Celtics - much like Pistons in 2004 - markedly better. While the Wallace transaction was nothing short of a douzy, the Hawks aren't satisfied.
They're hoping the Walker deal will bring the proud city of Atlanta a second consecutive vicarious championship of their bidding. Indeed, not since
the Area 51 cover-up has a plot been this devious. It's a conspiracy, you see...
The Hawks are bad - awfully bad. There's no hope for them, and they know it. So way back in 2003, at the beginning of last season, the organization
cut their losses and made a unanimous, long-term commitment to losing. More than a year later, the Hawks are certain they made the right call. By
embracing the hopelessness of their own franchise, they put themselves in position to play God in the race for NBA supremacy. Against all odds, they
Hawks are reaping all the benefits of losing, which - in one twisted sense - makes them winners...
How do you know when you're a big-time airline? When you get the naming rights to your very own NBA arena. American Airlines has the American Airlines
Arena in Miami. Air Canada has the Air Canada Center in Toronto. Continental has the Continental Airlines Arena in New Jersey. Delta has the Delta
Center in Utah. United has the United Center in Chicago. Even America West has the America West Center in Phoenix. So listen up, Southwest and Jet
Blue. You might have the lowest fares, superior service, and a stranglehold on the market, but I'm not impressed. Not yet at least. Talk to me when
you get your name on an NBA arena...
Don't believe the hype. Randy Moss and the Oakland Raiders isn't a match made in heaven. Like a bum and a bottle, a whore and a crack pipe, a needle
and a junkie, it's a match made in hell. I'm Dean Christopher...