Famous Farewells to Our Four-Legged Friends

With all the attention on the untimely and unexpected demise of Barbaro, Champion of Horses, I became a little curious as to the deaths of our other famous equine friends. Were they as mourned as Barbaro? Or did they die in relative obscurity, penniless and alone?

Unfortunately, as whenever creating a list, I had to think of subjects. How many famous horses have there been? I am not sure I can think of 10. There was Mr. Ed. But wasn't he a zebra? Alas, that is only an urban legend. So since a horse was a horse, of course of course, what happened to Mr. Ed? Was he sent off in Barbaro-esque fashion, to greeting cards and well-wishes, to near deified worship and national attention? Not quite. According to Wikipedia, Mr. Ed was put to sleep to little fanfare four years after the end of his show.

The end, however, was not as dismal for Trigger, horse of famous cowboy Roy Rogers. After appearing in over 90 films and 100 television shows, Trigger was mounted in a rearing position and now is on exhibit at the Roy Rogers - Dale Evans Museum in Branson, Missouri. Barbaro can only hope to be as lucky.

What about that horse from that movie with Bobcat Goldthwait? Unfortunately, Hot to Trot was considered so bad, the status of its equine co-star is difficult to locate. Even imdb.com fails to mention the name of horse that played Don. The poor horse has probably watched the Barbaro love-fest while swigging whiskey and wondering what might have been. Damn that Bobcat Goldthwait.

So unless owned by a famous cowboy, it seems Hollywood horses are usually thrown to the curb like half-drunk hookers the morning after a night of debauchery. A shame.

What about military horses? Have they gone out with as much hoorah as Barbaro? There has to be some Civil War legend who prized his horse above all and gave it a proper farewell. Indeed there is. Quite a few actually. Winchester, for example, the horse of General Philip H. Sheridan, was stuffed and put on display in the Armed Forces History Hall at the Smithsonian's National Museum of American History. The Smithsonian Institute has a whole page of various other horses with similar fates here. Good to know military horses, unlike their entertainment bretheren, get their due respect as their spirits cross over to Horse Heaven.

Of course, Barbaro was never a big-screen star nor did he ever lead a charge up San Juan Hill. He was a race horse, winner of only one of three major Triple Crown events. A one-trick pony, if you will. Therefore, let's compare him to his peers.

What about Secretariat? Surely one of the greatest horses to ever race went out with style. Yes, indeed. One of ESPN's greatest athletes of the 20th century, Secretariat was actually buried whole, one of the greatest honors to be given to a horse in death. A fitting end for the last Triple Crown winner and one of the most celebrated race horses of all time.

So winning race horses do get fond farewells. Some may even get inducted into the Horse Racing Hall of Fame. To wrap up, let's compare Barbaro to possibly the most famous American horse ever. A horse so famous they had to cast Spider-Man to ride him in the movie - the legendary Seabiscuit.

Seabiscuit was a national celebrity throughout the late 1930s and into the 1940s, garnering the attention of the masses. During this time, he won numerous races and was even named Horse of the Year. But after passing, was he given idol status? Is there a famous monument in his honor? Not quite. For all his fame, accomplishments, and prestige, Seabiscuit died seven years after the conclusion of his racing career and was buried in an undisclosed location by the family of his owner.

Is it fair to other horses that Barbaro, Champion of Horses, achieved an unprecedented level of attention for a horse that accomplished so little? Probably not. He won one major race. One race. Yet he received more love, adoration, greeting cards, and well-wishes than any horse in history and will probably get a burial fit for a king. Whatever. Just wake me when the Barbaro commemorative stamp is released. Oh, the irony.


- Jordi

Royal Re-Hash: Watching the WWE’s latest Royal Rumble

Ugh, the dog days of January. A dreary time, filled with cold winds, snow flurries, and the scientifically proven most depressing day of the year. What is there to look forward to?

Fortunately, the WWE’s (formerly WWF) first major pay-per-view, the Royal Rumble, was Sunday night. Well, with few other sports on, I guess it beats watching bowling or bass fishing.

Like most kids growing up in the 80s, I watched my share of pro wrestling. Then I moved on. But like a familiar ex, pro wrestling and I still hooked up on occasion. When my younger brother got into pro wrestling in the 90s, I watched. And during my first few years of college, I got back into it – even going to a WWE event in late 1999. So with a morbid curiosity I ventured into a local sports bar advertising Sunday night’s Royal Rumble. I had no idea what to expect, but it was free. No way was I paying 39.95.

I’ll admit, because my motivation level wasn’t as high as it should have been considering the event, I arrived an hour into the Royal Rumble. However, considering the WWE’s past penchants for promos and discussions, I think I missed maybe two matches. The no-name local bands before the headliners, if you will. But it was free, so who cares?

I finally found a seat (the place was packed) in time for the World Heavyweight Title bout. Usually championship matches are the main event, but because the event is named “The Royal Rumble” the rumble itself, of course, is the last match. But anyway…

First entering the ring was a wrestler named Mr. Kennedy. Wow. Original name. Absolutely nothing fancy about this guy. That must be his gimmick. His opponent, and the Heavyweight Champ, was a mountain of muscle named Batista, who looks just like the lead character for the movie 300. By the way, whatever happened to wrestlers who were just big but not ripped? Guys like Hillbilly Jim and Big John Studd, guys who got over on their characters rather than their physique. I liked those wrestlers.

Now would be a good time to mention that Batista has this huge tattoo covering half his back. It reminded me of an old Twilight Zone-like show I saw back in the 80s (yes, I watched too much T.V. back then) in which a guy received a tattoo that slowly started growing over his whole body. Back then, that was horror.

Of course, no championship match is complete without the referee getting knocked out. Good to see Vince McMahan employing the well-used ring gimmicks. And of course, as one wrestler tries to wake the ref up, the other comes from behind and pins the former. Well played.

After the match it was on to a quality WWE pay-per-view promo. Lucky for me, this spot featured an angry leprechaun, a bikini-clad blond, and WWE legend and Florida State University Hall of Famer Ron Simmons. Simmons’ new claim to fame is walking around saying “Damn.” Good to see fellow FSU grads making something of themselves.

Back to the action. The next match featured the WWE’s obligatory evil Samoan, Umaga. I think by now the WWE has employed the entire island. Wrestlers are probably Samoa’s leading export. And not to cast judgment, but someone at the table next to me asked their friend if Samoa was a real place. Way to counter the ignorant wrestling fan stereotype.

The opponent for the evil Samoan Umaga? None other than rapping commando John Cena, who you might know better as the leading man in The Marine. Didn’t see that movie? Me neither, but to quote Bob Uecker, I heard it was in focus. And did I mention Umaga has tattoos on his face? One of my rules in life is never mess with anyone with facial tats. It has gotten me this far.

Cena, on the other hand, is fighting Umaga in a “Last Man Standing” bout, which really should be a drinking game. Actually, that might be the contest Marion and the butch Mongolian woman were playing in the bar in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Speaking of George Lucas movies, the Umaga-Cena match ended with Cena using the ring rope to choke the life out of Umaga like Princess Leia did to Jabba the Hutt. Not trying to be too much of a Star Wars geek, but it looked just like that scene, tongue out and all.

Hey! It’s time for the Royal Rumble! For those unfamiliar, here are the basic rules according to Wikipedia:

The Royal Rumble is comprised of 30 men; beginning with two men in the ring, and at regular timed intervals (usually, but not always, every 90 seconds), one of the remaining 28 wrestlers enters the ring. Participants must eliminate all other opponents and the winner of the event is the last wrestler remaining after all others have been eliminated. Referees are situated at each side of the ring to validate eliminations.

A wrestler is eliminated when leaving the ring over the top rope, and then having both feet touch the floor. Going out between the second and third rope or under the bottom rope is not a valid elimination. A referee must witness an elimination in order for it to be valid.

An elimination can also occur when a wrestler is thrown off the top rope by a non-competing opponent, or by one who had already been eliminated, or when the participant deliberately jumps over the top rope, outside the ring. In other words, if a wrestler goes over the top rope, regardless how it happened, that wrestler is out. Other wrestlers can be de facto eliminated due to interference preventing the wrestler from entering the ring.

Ok, got it? Good. So, without further ado, here is a recap of the 2007 Royal Rumble broken up by every ten wresters.

The first wrestler in: Ric Flair. Why is he still wrestling? Did you know Ric Flair is 55 years old? I think its time for him to be pitching Viagra. Imagine the possibilities there. Woooh.

Flair is quickly joined by the personification of the Notre Dame mascot, a little fighting Irishman named Finlay. I guess someone stole his lucky charms or his whiskey.

Following Flair and Finlay, the next eight contestants were Kenny (don’t call me Lenny) Dykstra, Matt Hardy, Edge, Tommy Dreamer, Sabu, Gregory Helms, Shelton Benjamin, and Kane. Most of these I knew from watching back in the late 90s.

Before I go into numbers 10-20, I need to mention a trademark of the Royal Rumble: the isolation play. You can always tell which wrestlers are feuding even without knowing any backstory by watching out for the Royal Rumble isolation play. When done right, the isolation play is very similar to its basketball namesake. When wrestler X comes down the aisle he makes a bee-line through the ring towards wrestler Y. All other wrestlers clear out and stay grappling in the corners until wrestlers X and Y duke it out for a few moments. Then everyone jumps in. It is a lot like watching LeBron James and Kobe Bryant playing one-on-one while their teammates stand on the sidelines.

To continue, lucky Royal Rumble contestants 11-20 included C.M. Punk, King Booker (long-lost twin of the Minnesota T-Wolves Troy Hudson), Super Crazy, Jeff Hardy, The Sandman, Randy Orton, Chris Benoit, Rob Van Dam, the 485 lb Viscera, and Johnny Nitro, who surprisingly is not based on a character from Speed Racer. And yes, this part of the Royal Rumble was as exciting as it sounds, highlighted by The Sandman coming into the ring, whacking some people with a kendo stick and then being quickly tossed out.

The last ten contestants of the Royal Rumble were a little more interesting. Entering 21st was the WWE’s newest resident vampire, Kevin Thorn. I don’t know why Vince McMahon keeps trying the vampire gimmick, it’s literally and figuratively dead (pun intended). 22nd was Hardcore Holly, a career mid-carder. 23rd was Shawn Michaels, whose career has lasted twice as long as his namesake, Poison lead singer Bret Michaels. Bret, however, did “have relations” with Pamela Anderson before she was with Tommy Lee or Kid Rock. Advantage: Bret Michaels.

After Michaels was Chris Masters, another generic mass of muscle with no character; Chavo Guerrero; MVP (seriously, whoever made that name should be fired); Carlito; The Great Khali (a 9 foot tall wall of a man); some guy whose name I didn’t catch; and the Undertaker.

To wrap up, there were approximately 12 wrestlers were in the ring when The Great Khali lumbered in. And Khali eliminated 10 of them. Like the isolation play, the giant-wrestler-eliminating-half-the-contestants play is another Royal Rumble staple. Of course, like previous unstoppable forces, The Great Khali had to face the Undertaker in an isolation play. Hooked up to Bill Simmons’ Juvenation Machine, the Undertaker eliminated Khali and almost everyone else left in the ring before squaring off with the ageless Shawn Michaels.

(This is one of my biggest gripes with the WWE product. Only in Vince McMahon’s wrestling world do they limit the potential of new stars to show the same old 40 to 50 year old veterans. This would be like Tony LaRussa using an aging Willie McGee to pinch-hit for Albert Pujols with the game on the line in Game 7 of the World Series.)

Anyway, the Undertaker won. Great. Wonderful. Outstanding. Needless to say, I am glad I watched the 2007 Royal Rumble for free and my waitress was cute. Other than that, it was no different from the last Royal Rumble I watched 10 years ago.


- Jordi

Punxsutawny Shaq

"When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter."
- Bill Murray, Groundhog Day (1993)

Throughout most of the world, February 2nd is a day of hope. On this day, in a little town 80 miles from Pittsburgh, Pa., a little groundhog pokes his little head out his little hole and reveals whether or not we will face six more weeks of cold, bleak, dreary winter.

For many sports fans in Miami however, Groundhog's Day came early this year. Please forgive their haste. Not only is winter not a big issue where the temperature rarely drops below 80 degrees, but with a certain major football championship to be played in the city on February 4th, the certain minor holidays needed to be rescheduled.

Last night, in Indianapolis, Indiana, Shaquille O'Neal returned to the Miami Heat and made his season debut. This comes as great news for Miami Heat fans, who can now hope for six weeks of playoff basketball with their All-Star center back in the lineup. No longer will they have to endure the bleak, cold, depressing performances of has-beens or never-will-bes such as Earl Barron and Wayne Simien. Finally, the Big Barishynikov has come back to Miami.

In honor of Shaq's return, The Serious Tip has decided to compare these two Seers of Seers, Sages of Sages, Prognosticators of Prognosticators and Prophets Extraordinary in a quick tale of the tape to determine which, if either, could best help people find their missing bikes.

Locations:
Miami is a much more popular and warmer tourist destination, has beautiful beaches, and plenty of scantily-clad eye candy. Besides Gobbler's Knob, what else is in Punxsutawny? Advantage: Shaq.

Movies:
Groundhog Day vs. Kazaam, Steele, Blue Chips, Good Burger, etc. Although Groundhog Day was not filmed in Punxatawny, Shaq's movies lacked that certain something called Bill Murray's comic genius. And with "Ned the Head", "Needle-Nose Ned" Ryerson in a supporting role, Groundhog Day was a repetitive masterpiece. Advantage: Phil.

Place of Emergence:
'Tis much better to rise from the ashes of the Miami Heat bench dressed in a custom-made suit than for ye to cower in a Saddam Hussein hidey-hole in Gobbler's Knob. I think Shakespeare said that. Advantage: Shaq. And yes, I said Gobbler's Knob again. Huh, huh, cool.

Music:
Phil never released any albums with the Fu-Schnickens. Shaq unfortunately did. To paraphrase, "That's okay, not being bragadocious, but Supercalifragelistic, Shaq's rap career was quite atrocious." Major advantage: Phil.

Cultural impact:
Although Shaq has been around for what seems like forever, Phil is supposedly going on 120 years old. That's a lot of soothseeing. According to a web site about Phil, the secret to his longevity lies in a sheltered climate-controlled environment where he spends all of his non-working time. Kinda like Gilbert Arenas. Durability advantage: Phil.

In a close contest, Phil grabs the 3-2 victory over the Big Aristotle. This victory comes as no surprise however, as Phil's skills in prophesy haven't been challenged since Miss Cleo vanished from the scene several years ago.

Despite his defeat to the world's most famous groundhog, Miami Heat fans should be optimistic about Punxsutawny Shaq's return and their chances at another title, until of course, the Heat play the red-hot Phoenix Suns or Dallas Mavericks. Then it might be time to crawl into Phil's hidey-hole and wait for next year.


- Jordi

A Lighter Shade of Blue Devil

Back in 2004, many members of the media dutifully reported the lack of African-Americans on the Houston Astros post-season roster. The Astros roster was discussed as an oddity and a possible harbinger of times to come as the percentage of African-Americans in major league baseball has steadily decreased. A little more than two years later another racial anomaly is occurring, this time in a sport more predominantly populated by African-Americans.

As of January 23rd, African-Americans comprised nearly 63% of all players on teams in the ESPN/USA Today Top 10 Men's College Basketball Rankings. The average roster had 15 players, nine black and six white. Number ten Duke University, however, currently has ten white players and four black players. Why does such a prestigious college basketball program vary so much from the norm?

Like the Astros in 2004, the racial composition of the Blue Devil basketball team could be a strange coincidence. Perhaps for reasons unknown many of Duke's most recent African-American recruits have opted to attend other universities or entered the NBA draft, such as current LA Clipper Shaun Livingston. One can also assume any lingering racial effects from last year's lacrosse team legal accusations have not endowed the university to the national African-American community. But that might only explain a lack in the most recent recruits.

Perhaps the "Duke philosophy" is to blame. Under Coach K the Blue Devils' style of play has not been marked by athleticism. Duke players are rarely the flashiest or the most high-flying. The "Dukie Way", correctly or incorrectly, could be personified in recent grad J.J. Redick - a player with good fundamentals, decent to above average defensive skills, and a wicked jump shot. All qualities of the stereotypical white all-star college basketball player. Quite possibly, the Duke recruiting staff has become too enamored with these attributes and negated or lacked emphasis in other more athletic facets of the game.

Another possible explanation for the Blue Devils unusual racial make-up could be a cautiousness by the recruiting staff. With the current NBA rule stating players must be a year removed from high school prior to entering the NBA draft, many interested players, such as Ohio State's Greg Oden and Texas' Kevin Durant, are playing at the college level until they are draft eligible. By the numbers, most of the these players have been African-American. Coach K and his staff may be only interested in players they can assume will be at the university for at least three to four years. This has been the standard at Duke. Rarely do players leave early, with NBA players Elton Brand and Corey Maggette being notable exceptions. Perhaps there has been a conscious decision by the Duke recruiting staff to avoid players who might leave college early and to favor roster cohesion over "renting" a player for a chance at a national title.

Now I am not trying to stir up any racial discord or push for any affirmative action or congressional investigation, but I think the racial composition of the Duke Blue Devils' basketball team is highly unusual. Especially when the university boasts of its 11.5% freshman African-American enrollment as higher than other "highly selective private universities". Duke may be above their average with African-Americans in the classroom, but it doesn't show on the basketball court.


- Jordi

Blogger is too sexy for my job

As an average white suburbanite 20-something male, I can count on one finger the times I have been called sexy. She was a stripper, all the other clientle were in the champagne rooms with the other girls, her tuition was due and she needed to some cash. She slid next to me and whispered in my ear, "Hey, sexy, how about you join me?" When I told her I don't talk to strangers she gave me a weird look and walked away. But she did call me sexy.

I tell this tale because I can no longer update The Serious Tip on the job. Apparently The Man's server filters have deemed blogger.com too sexy for workplace viewing. Hence no updating at work, no posting comments on other sites at work, and no response when typing in "www.blogger.com".

I don't understand what the problem is. There is no bestiality, necrophilia, deiophilia, arborphilia, arachnophilia, or any other kind of -philia on the blogger web site. There are no "melted kit kats", "soggy biscuits", or "Boston pancakes". It's just words and program language. If the powers that be want me to work, they should come out and say so. Design a filter page that says "This page is designated 'a complete waste of time'. Get back to work, dickhead." Or perhaps, "This site is considered a part of 'The Underground' and is not to be viewed as such viewing may encourage independent thought." I would be cool with that too.

But no, they categorize it as "sex". And you know I can't bitch about the stupidity of their decision because that would be admitting that all I do is screw around and update The Serious Tip all day because I don't have shit else to do. Which is of course the truth.

Damn The Man.


- Jordi

The Second Coming

Many of us put an aura around original success. First win, first love, first little-league homerun or pee-wee league touchdown, first multi-platinum radio hit. Nothing can destroy your feelings of a great first anything. Think about the first time your team won a championship. No matter how many times they repeat, nothing can match the emotions of the first time. Often you will pick that team over any more recent champions.

For me, it’s the ’86 Mets. I was nine and a new Mets fan. They were The Team. I had all their baseball cards, memorized the line-up, and could even mimic every player’s batting stance or pitching wind-up. So if the Mets were to win it all next year, I would definitely be overjoyed, but would I take the ’86 team in a seven game series over the ’07 team? Without a doubt. That was my first championship team. Same holds with ‘99 Seminoles. The Knicks? Well, I am still waiting.

Unfortunately, the aura of untouchable original success holds no value in the businesses of sports and cinema. Often in search of the almighty dollar, the sports world and Hollywood recycle the same names, ideas, or storylines until they are limp shadows of the original glory. But no general manager or Hollywood script writer has yet to re-create a classic first. Sure, they could draft, sign, or trade for family members of past stars or release sequels with the same or similar actors but usually these attempts end in failure. Like cold fusion, they can only happen once.

So in honor of Mike Shula’s recent interview with the Miami Dolphins and this week’s Golden Globe Awards (which really should be an AVN award), I’ve decided to list a few of the more famous sequels from the world of sports and their cinematic equivalents. My one criterion: I limited the selections to sequels who at some point played on the same sports franchise as their predecessor. So you won’t see such quality entertainment as Jelly Bean Bryant II, The Second Simms, or The Return of the Basketball Walton.

Blockbuster Bombs

Ted / John Henry Willliams (Red Sox) – Caddyshack / Caddyshack 2
Caddyshack is a classic, instantly quotable, a mix of talent and performance that will never be duplicated. As for the sequel, like John Henry Williams’ brief stint with the Gulf Coast Red Sox, let’s just forget it ever happened.

Pete / Pete Rose Jr. (Reds) – The Blair Witch Project / Book of Shadows: Blair Witch 2
Although Rose wasn’t a power hitter, didn’t run particularly fast, and never played the same position for too long, he made the most from his limited budget of skills. As did the Blair Witch Project. Also like the opinions of the Blair Witch Project, opinions on Pete Rose’s Hall of Fame chances are divided. Everyone is in agreement, however, that Pete Rose, Jr.’s baseball abilities and the Blair Witch sequel had little business being viewed by the public.

Straight to DVD

Yogi / Dale Berra (Yankees) – The Blues Brothers / Blues Brothers 2000
Yogi Berra was another timeless, easily quotable classic, similar, say, to The Blues Brothers. His son Dale, like Blues Brothers 2000, had its success tainted by drug use (imagine a second Blues Brothers with John Belushi instead of John Goodman) and couldn’t hold a note to its predecessor.

Rick / Drew, Jon, and Brent Barry (Rick, Drew – Warriors) – King Kong / King Kong Lives, King Kong vs. Godzilla, King Kong (2005)
Following in the footsteps of a Hall of Fame father is never easy. Although Jon and Brent Barry have had success, the sons of Rick Barry have been mediocre at best. Rick Barry is the King Kong of the Barry name, and each attempt at a sequel has been a 2nd generation knock-off.

Bob / Brian Griese (Dolphins) – Gremlins / Gremlins 2, Home Alone / Home Alone 2
Another Hall of Fame original and his not so great son. Like Gremlins 2 or Home Alone 2, you can survive watching the second Griese, but don’t count your season on it.

Gus / Buddy / David Bell (Gus/ Buddy – Reds, Buddy/ David – Indians) – Major League I, II, III
Like the Major League movies, the first Bell was a force during his career, the second Bell was a solid all-round player, but the third Bell makes you yearn for those late night shifts at Lou Brown’s Tire World. “How would you like to watch David Bell play tonight?” “I would but I have to talk to a guy about some white walls on the other line.”

Sam / Jerry / Jerry Hairston Jr (White Sox) – Evil Dead / Evil Dead 2 / Army of Darkness
News flash: I just learned there were three generations of Hairstons who played for the White Sox. Raise your hand if you knew that. Put your hand down, Mama Hairston. Did you also know there were three Evil Dead movies? No? Well, you learn something new every day. Note: along with Johnny and Scott Hairston, the Hairston clan almost has as many members in the big leagues as there are Friday the 13th movies. And about as memorable.

Midday Matinees

Ray / Bob / Bret & Aaron Boone (Ray, Bret – Braves, Bob, Aaron – Phillies) – Back to the Future I, II, III
As each generation of Boone was a quality player and had decent careers, they have become the Back to the Future trilogy. Good, not great, movies that entertained and continued the family tradition.

Hal / Brian McRae (Royals) – Ghostbusters / Ghostbusters 2
Both McRaes were quality ballplayers with decent, if not better than average, major league careers. Hal McRae’s near batting titles, World Series rings, All-Star selections, and 23-year career however, overshadow Brian’s 10-year career like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man standing above a portrait of Vigo the Carpathian.

Felipe / Moises Alou – (Expos, Giants) – Spiderman / Spiderman 2
During the 1960s and 70s Felipe Alou was one of three Alou brothers playing in the major leagues. Felipe played for 17 seasons, made several all-star teams, and retired with over 200 homeruns. Moises Alou has continued, if not improved upon, the Alou tradition, making six all-star teams and hitting over 300 homeruns. Could be the juiced ball, the juiced players, or maybe just the improved CGI. I don’t know.

Sandy / Sandy Jr, Roberto Alomar (White Sox) – Alien / Aliens
Roberto makes this difficult. If it was just the Sandys they would be Iron Eagle I & II – a totally forgettable, mediocre father-son catching duo, like Fred and Jason Kendall. But with Roberto’s near-Hall of Fame stats, this becomes a case of the sons outperforming their father. Sandy Sr. might have Sigourney Weaver in undergarments and a man giving birth to a space critter, but Roberto and Sandy Jr. were definitely the much improved Aliens.

The Excellent Encores

Ken Griffey Sr / Ken Griffey Jr (Mariners, Reds) – Terminator / T2
The first Terminator was good, the second was better. If Rise of the Machines is any indicator, unless Trey Griffey plays in the major leagues accompanied by Kristanna Loken, it would probably be best to end the Griffey franchise when Junior retires.

Bobby / Brett Hull (Winnipeg Jets / Pheonix Coyotes) – Godfather / Godfather 2
As with the first two Godfather movies, both Bobby and Brett Hull are among the best ever. The only way to complete this trilogy would be for a third generation Hull to be an un-athletic, stumbling, bumbling halfwit. Think Sophia Coppola on skates.

Bobby / Barry Bonds (Giants) – Star Wars / Empire Strikes Back
Like Empire Strikes Back to Star Wars: A New Hope, the sequel to Bobby Bonds is gloomier, more evil, and mired with unresolved controversy. Who in sports fits the role of Darth Vader better than Barry Bonds? And who needs the Force when you have the cream and the clear?

So what can Dolphins fans expect if the team hires another Shula? Based on Mike Shula’s experience with Alabama and David Shula’s record with the Bengals, I am thinking Shula II: Electric Boogaloo.



- Jordi

Why Hate The Fish?

Ok, I know it's not baseball season, nor is it close to baseball season. But something is bugging me. ESPN has started previewing the upcoming baseball season in a multi-part series called Hot Stove Heaters in an attempt to get fans prepared for baseball. Normally this is not a bad thing. Should be a good thing, right? Well, this year ESPN has decided the Florida Marlins are public enemy number one. I don't know why, but three articles in the last three days have bashed the Marlins in some way, shape, or form. Although the Mets are my team, I have never seen anything wrong with rooting for the underdog Fish, especially when they beat the Yankees in 2003. So ESPN, why all the Marlins hate?

In their opening salvo against the Marlins franchise, ESPN writer Tim Kurkjian called Dolphins Stadium "the worst ballpark in the major leagues". Kurkjian's logic is that because of their lack of attendence, the Marlins stadium is worse than any other. First, let me be up front, I have been to Dolphins Stadium. I went to the Marlins' home opener Opening Day 2004, right after they won the World Series. So although I have never seen the ballpark empty, I was there. But to insult the facility because of lack of attendence is a faulty premise. Keep in mind for many years the Cleveland Indians could barely fill a quarter of Municipal Stadium, their much older, colder, more empty, caverous "mistake by the lake".

Granted the Marlins could use a new stadium, preferably with a retractable roof, but in my opinion, Tropicana Field, home of the Tampa Bays Devil Rays, is the worst stadium in baseball. True, its cozier dimensions give the appearance of higher attendence because the few fans there are not as spread out, but baseball is not meant to be played indoors. Period. Watching a game at "The Trop" is like watching a game in a musty basement. It doesn't feel right. Add the fact that Tropicana Field was once home to the Tampa Bay Lightning hockey team, and you can see why baseball doesn't fit there. Contrary to Mr. Kurkjian's ideas, lack of attendence doesn't make something horrible, the facility itself makes it horrible.

After Mr. Kurkjian's claim against the Marlins, writer Phil Rogers discusses the city of Portland's attempt to have the Marlins relocate to the Pacific Northwest. Insulting the stadium in which they play is one thing, but to promote the moving of the franchise because of the lack of attendence is a slap in the face to the many fans of the Marlins, of whom I know do exist. Once the Florida legislature finally approves of a workable deal and the Marlins can get their new stadium, they will be fine. Hopefully the new stadium will be in a location that will be convenient for both the citizens of Miami and the purchasing power of Fort Lauderdale and West Palm Beach. The franchise just needs a legislative hand, not a moving truck.

The third attack against the Marlins was minor and perhaps true, but considering ESPN's previous comments, enough is enough. In Paul Lukas's newest Uni Watch article, he rates the Marlins' uniforms a two out of five. Ok, that they may be, and maybe I am getting too defensive about a team that I only occasionally root for, but it's the principle. Stop hatin' on the Marlins.

Now I am not saying everyone should jump on the Florida Marlins' bandwagon, but no one discusses moving the Royals or the Pirates. Or even dare suggests combining the two aforementioned pitiful franchises and having them play in Oklahoma City or any other third site. So ESPN, how about showing the Marlins a little respect? They do have the best young pitching staff south of Detroit. With Cabrera, Willis, and the rest of the young talent in South Florida, I see playoffs by 2010.


- Jordi

Yet another article about Peyton Manning and his Patriot demons ... Not.

743.

That's my over/under on articles that will be written about Peyton Manning and his career nemeses Tom Brady and the New England Patriots. You know you are definitely getting a Bill Simmons piece. You know many of the other ESPN.com writers will opine. You may even get DJ Gallo's wit and wisdom. I do like DJ Gallo.

You know they will all write about it. ESPN, Yahoo!, SI.com, CBS SportsLine, all of them. Peyton Manning this, Tom Brady that. Yes, even some of my blogging bretheren. Stats, rankings, psychological profiles. You will hear it all. Someone might even tell you Bill Belicheck has an anti-Peyton Manning voodoo doll made from Archie Manning's hair hidden in his raggedy cloak of coaching wisdom. And you will tire of it. You will want something, anything else.

With your best interests in mind, I am refraining from writing about anything resembling Peyton Manning, the Indianapolis Colts, Tom Brady, Bill Belicheck, or the New England Patriots. I will however, post this picture of the absolutely beautiful Bridget Moynahan, who, because she is no longer dating Tom Brady, has nothing to with any of the aforementioned subjects.

Well, what to write about then? How about the New Orleans Saints? The Saints will probably be the default back-up story of any writer not writing about the Colts vs. the Patriots. Tell me more about how great the Saints are to the city of New Orleans. I can't possibly get enough. Could you even go out on a limb and interview Deuce McAllister for me? Thanks.

How about I write about the Chicago Bears? I could write about Rex Grossman and his up and down season. Ummm... no. To be honest, what hasn't been said about Rex Grossman by the fine esteemed gentlemen at Kissing Suzy Kolber is just not worth writing about.

So with all the corners of the football landscape covered, examined, analyzed, poked, prodded, smacked up, flipped, and rubbed down (and repeatedly in many cases), what's left? Baseball season hasn't started yet, college basketball is still wasting time until the tournaments begin, and the NBA doesn't get interesting until Shaquille O'Neal comes out of his hole, sees his shadow and predicts six more weeks of playoff basketball for the Miami Heat. That leaves me with one recourse: a schizophrenic scatological smattering of semi-conscious ponderings. In other words, a couple of random thoughts and my favorite tunes of 2006. Enjoy.
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I wonder, could any full-blooded American male walk by a television showing either kung-fu or porn and not take at least a quick look? Who could resist? How could you not be drawn to the excitement, the spectacle, or the joy of two of the greatest cinematic genres ever created?

Another thing I wonder about: do people who commit suicide make to-do lists? Is "kill myself" ever on there? If so, what follows? Obviously, something they don't plan on getting done. But I am curious.

And in closing,

My top 11 CD releases of 2006:

11) Black Stone Cherry - Black Stone Cherry: Think a hard-rock 70's throwback band with a Ronnie Van Sant wanna-be on vocals. Listeners must like Zakk Wylde, Skynyrd, and long walks on the beach.

10) Audioslave - Revelations: I definitely thought this CD was better than Audioslave's second release. It seems like these guys are pumping out songs like they were mass produced by 8-year old sweatshop workers. Wait, Tom Morello might disapprove of that.

9) Method Man - 4:21... The Day After: A little older, a little more mature sounding Method Man bringing the southpaw style with guests Ol' Dirty Bastard, Lauren Hill, and Redman.

8) Pearl Jam - Pearl Jam: After a disappointing Riot Act, I was pleasantly enamored with this album. Good to see Pearl Jam back again.

7) Robert Randolph & The Family Band - Colorblind: Real good funk, jazz, gospel, rock thing going on. And Robert Randolph is a big Mets fan.

6) Buckcherry - 15: I never figured out why they called it 15. There are only 11 songs. Although they do kick ass like 15 songs of your average white band.

5) Jurassic 5 - Feedback: There is not a bad song on this CD, even the one with Dave Matthews is good. As a bonus they quote some old school, pre-"Are We There Yet?" Ice Cube.

4) Drive-By Truckers - A Blessing and a Curse: Some good ol' southern rock. Everybody seemed to have this on their "best of" list. Screw it, I liked it anyway.

3) Public Enemy f/ Paris - Rebirth of a Nation: Nothing better than militant political rap by two of the genre's best: Paris and Chuck D. Even Flavor Flav cameos with some old school, pre-Flavor of Love rhymes.

2) Cowboys from Hell and David Allen Coe - Rebel Meets Rebel: Dimebag Darrell, Vinnie Paul, and Rex Brown formerly of Pantera join forces with country outlaw legend David Allen Coe in what was Dimebag's last recording. A kick-ass one at that. RIP Dime.

1) The Coup - Pick a Bigger Weapon: Think Public Enemy mixed with heaping servings of Parliament-Funkadelic and you have The Coup. Socialist, communist, militant, anarchist, whatever ... with songs like "Laugh, Love, F*** (and drink liquor)", how can you go wrong?

Well, to all the writers who are going to inundate you with articles about either Tom Brady's champion abilities, Bill Belicheck's utter genius, or Peyton Manning's psycho-subliminal inability to defeat the Patriots: try to write something original. Please.


- Jordi

I'm not feeling Beckham-mania

So the Prince of European soccer, David Beckham, is doing his best Eddie Murphy impression and Coming to America. Apparently, Mr. Beckham is an international multi-media superstar-idol-sex symbol. He supposedly makes women hot, men sweat, dogs drool, and plants blossom. I heard even the sun shines a little brighter to get Beckham's attention. He also plays soccer as well.

Now, I don't know a thing about soccer other than put the ball in the goal and protect the family jewels on a penalty kick, but I do know this: 250 million dollars over five years is a lot of cash.

David Beckham is going to make 50 million dollars a year to play soccer in America. 50 million. Why are people not shocked over this?

Sure, there are American athletes making that much money already. Shaquille O'Neal and Tiger Woods immediately come to mind. They and others are our top athletes in our top "American" sports. But to play soccer?

In 2004, the top salary in Major League Soccer was $350,000, far less than the median major league baseball player's salary. In 2006, only the average Colorado Rockie and Florida Marlin made less. Shockingly, the lowest MLS salary in 2004 was guaranteed for $50,000. David Beckham will make 500 times that amount during his career with the LA Galaxy. To put that number in perspective, the highest paid baseball player would have to make over 163 million dollars to make 500 times the salary of many of the Marlins' 2006 rookies.

Granted, Beckham is going to make a majority of his money through endorsements. But can his advertising star shine as bright in America as it does in Europe? Honestly, I don't think so. He and wife Posh Spice may grace the cover of Vogue, Us Weekly, and even Sports Illustrated, but I think his lack of cross-over appeal will hurt his American marketability. He is a rich European white guy without much street credibility playing an unpopular sport. Sure, Peyton Manning is short on "props", but he is a folksy fellow with a decent sense of humor playing America's most popular sport. With soccer's lack of appeal, I don't see Beckham's money-making potential being as high as that of any popular American athlete.

Beckham may be a curiosity for a year or two, a so-called "Soccer Messiah" destined to bring the sport to the masses of America, but eventually the buzz will fade. Beckham will then either choose to end his career here in the States or return to Europe. And where does that leave the LA Galaxy? Call me a doubter, but money and big contracts don't automatically win championships, just ask Alex Rodriguez and the New York Yankees.


- Jordi

Deadspin's Adam Knox Fund Seized by PayPal

Back in October, Deadspin.com created The Adam Knox Fund, a support fund for our military personnel over Iraq, named after Sergeant Adam Knox, killed in action in September. Unfortunately, things haven't gone as planned and there have been conflicts with PayPal, the online payment medium Deadspin selected to collect donations. Here is the issue, directly from Deadspin.com:

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So here's what happened: When we set up the fund, we attached it to a Paypal account, because we thought that would make it easier to contribute. Turns out, though -- as we learned through two more hours on the phone with these jerks yesterday -- that they set up the initial Paypal account as a "charitable organization" account. (We do not know why they did this. We did not ask them to.) Because of this, they require "documentation of non-profit tax-exempt status." Because Deadspin is not, in fact, a non-profit organization (though we wouldn't exactly call us a "profit" organizatione ither) , the compliance department has decided that the funds are to be frozen for "180 days," after which time they will be deposited in the "bank account on file." (Which is our personal bank account.) The douche on the phone -- whom we hope goes home tonight and is fucking beaten by Jason Kidd's wife -- said that he understood the situation and that it was "unfortunate" but that "we have our policies. If you contact us on April 13 [the 180 days date] we will be reminded to deposit the funds, because the suspension would be over." That's the word that dicknob used: "Suspension."
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Apparently, PayPal's decision to suspend The Adam Knox Fund will prevent the members of Sgt. Knox's platoon from receiving their gifts until mid-April. Like Will Leitch, Deadspin's main writer and editor, I too find this unacceptable.

While not in any power of authority, I figured the best way to reverse PayPal's stance on this issue is to raise public awareness. Years ago, the military helped me a lot by helping me be "all I could be" and paying for my college education. More recently, Will's Deadspin site has helped my writing by linking to here and showing the world what I have to say. Whereas what I normally write about isn't very important, I stongly believe this issue is. So if you can possibly help The Adam Knox Fund in any way, please email Will Leitch at will@deadspin.com.

Thanks.

- Jordi

Florida State: Fuzzy Math National Champions. Ok, how about The Eastern Michigan Eagles?

As a Florida State fan and alumnus I can not allow the University of Florida to wallow in their victory against Ohio State and proclaim themselves National Champions. Of course, following the game many writers across the nation voted Florida number one in each and every poll, but who says they are correct? Not I, says me.

Yes, on the surface, the Florida Gators appear to be National Champions. They pummeled Ohio State, the former number one team in the country. But are the Gators really National Champs? Although we let the BCS computers and the voters decide all season, let's look at college football through the lens of fuzzy math.

Who should be number one?:

Ohio State? The Buckeyes lost to Florida in the Fiesta Bowl. Nope.

Florida? Defeated Ohio State, yet lost to Auburn during the season. Sorry.

Auburn? Lost to Arkansas. Nyet.

Arkansas? Lost to USC. Nada.

USC? Defeated Michigan in the Rose Bowl, however, lost to UCLA. Nope.

UCLA then? Defeated USC, however, lost to Florida State in the Emerald Bowl.

Ipso facto, Florida State should be National Champions. Right?

Ok, maybe not. Florida State lost to Clemson, which did lose to Maryland, who convienently lost to West Virginia, who was defeated by South Florida, who was beaten by Kansas, who lost to Toledo, who was defeated by Eastern Michigan. And since Eastern Michigan only had one win, shouldn't it count for something?


The Eastern Michigan Eagles: The Serious Tip's 2006 college football National Champions.


- Jordi

The Inevitable Futures of Mr. Tony Romo

As we watched Tony Romo fumble away his playoff hopes and come crashing down to Earth like Superman in Kryptonite underwear, we here at The Serious Tip began to wonder the future of Dallas’s darling quarterback. Will his brief Kevin Maas-like run in the sun be quickly forgotten like the careers of the pop princesses he flirted with? Or will he recover, “dust off his shoulders”, and re-establish his position as the leader and poster boy of America’s Team? What does Romo’s future hold?

Before you call Miss Cleo, consult the Magic 8-Ball, shake the bones, or ask the Ouija board, let The Serious Tip prognosticate and foretell The Inevitable Futures of Mr. Tony Romo.

Ol’ Scratch Has Come to Collect

“You sold your soul. You goin' down, all the way down. Hell hounds on your trail, boy, hell hounds on your trail.”
– The Devil’s Assistant to bluesman Willie Brown in the Ralph Macchio movie Crossroads

Like Kurt Warner before him, Tony Romo seemingly came out of nowhere. After playing his college ball in Eastern Illinois University, Romo signed as an undrafted free agent with the Dallas Cowboys in 2003. After two years of living life like other former Division I-AA quarterbacks, Romo found himself the starting quarterback of the Cowboys. He immediately became a sports and pop culture celebrity, not only leading the Cowboys to victory and onward to the playoffs, but he was also rumored to be romantically linked to pop stars Jessica Simpson and Carrie Underwood. Life was good for the 26-year old soon-to-be superstar.

But what the mainstream media and the Cowboy organization will not disclose is what Mr. Tony Romo did in those years of inactivity before replacing Drew Bledsoe in Week 8 of the 2006 season. Is it possible Tony Romo visited the legendary crossroads of blues legend Robert Johnson and sold his soul for all-star quarterback abilities and vexes on both Drew Bledsoe and former-Dallas QB Quincy Carter? Granted, Bledsoe’s abilities have been in decline due to his age and immobility, but how else do you explain the downfall of the once promising Carter? Mere days before Romo was selected to the NFL Pro Bowl, Carter was arrested and was again battling the demons of drug use.

If Tony Romo did indeed sell his soul to the devil for a few weeks of football glory, could the devil have come to collect early in the last moments against the Seahawks? Robert Johnson recorded his second session and the most depressing of his legendary 29 songs when at the same age Romo was during his rise to fame. Johnson quickly returned to being just another bluesman along the circuit and would eventually die at a young age before being “re-discovered” by Eric Clapton and other contemporary musicians years later.

Without the devil’s blessing, Romo will probably resume his position as a former Division I-AA college quarterback. Away in memory will be the accolades, the Pro Bowl selections, and the romantic linkings to beautiful celebrities. Following his fall from grace, Romo will struggle throughout 2007-08 and will lose his starting job by season’s end. He will later be released by the Cowboys as he suffers a Rick Ankiel-like psychological complex, re-surface in the Canadian League for a season or two, and end up coaching football in his hometown by the age of 33. All for nine weeks of shining stardom.

Laces Out, Romo!

“It was all that Dan Marino's fault, everyone knows that. If he had held the ball, laces out, like he was supposed to, Ray would never have missed that kick. Dan Marino should die of gonorrhea and rot in hell.”
– Mrs. Finkle, mother of the deranged Ray Finkle in Ace Ventura

What if Tony Romo did not sell his soul to the devil? What if Saturday’s fumble was just a blip on the radar in Tony Romo’s wildly successful future NFL career?

After Saturday’s gut-wrenching loss, Tony Romo will clear his head during a peaceful spring Tahitian vacation with country star Carrie Underwood. He will not think about football, the Cowboys, Jerry Jones, T.O., Bill Parcells, sports talk radio, sports bloggers, sports analysts, or SportsCenter. He and Carrie will take in the sun, drink margaritas, and frolic on the beach like Rocky Balboa and Apollo Creed.

Upon returning to training camp, Tony Romo will be a man possessed. His excellence in 2007-08 will far overshadow his coming out party of 2006-07. He will not only lead the Cowboys to a Super Bowl win, but to a new dynasty, replacing the fading memories of Emmitt Smith and Troy Aikman. No longer will people think his selection to the 2007 Pro Bowl was a fluke, they will call it a harbinger of untapped greatness.

As Romo becomes the patron saint of Cowboy quarterback greatness, kicker Martin Gramatica will become expendable. Without making a field goal to win the first round of the 2006-07 playoffs, Gramatica will lose the confidence that comes with game-winning kicks. Without being able to write “playoff-winning kicker” on his resume, Gramatica will join the carousel of kickers employed by NFL headcoaches. Before long, Martin Gramatica will be out of the NFL, joining his brother Bill in doing whatever it is former NFL kickers do.

But Martin Gramatica will hold a grudge. Not against former coaches such as Jon Gruden or Bill Parcells, but against Tony Romo. If Romo hadn’t fumbled, Gramatica would have made the field goal and re-emerged has a household name. He would have been the star. The next Adam Vinateri. And Martin Gramatica will plot his revenge …


- Jordi

The Serious Tip has invaded MySpace

Like a 16-year old girl with piercings and emo bangs or a murderer with a penchant for gutting deer, The Serious Tip has entered the world of MySpace.com. And a strange and beautiful world it is, filled with rappers and rockers, pornstars and pedophiles.

Already The Serious Tip has amassed over 30 friends, including Knicks small forward Renaldo Balkman, Arizona Diamondback pitcher Taylor Buchholz, Playboy Playmates Sara Jean Underwood and Courtney Culkin, Internet models Melissa Harrington and Sweet Adrienne, FSU Superfan Jenn Sterger and her Cowgirls, and ESPN columnist and basketball legend Paul Shirley.

So feel free to check out The Serious Tip's MySpace page. Think of it as DVD bonus features for your favorite blog site.

- Jordi

Darrent Williams: Don't blame the lifestyle

Hope all had an enjoyable New Years. Before discussing more recent events, I would like to briefly touch on the fatal shooting of Darrent Williams of the Denver Broncos.

So who is to blame when history repeats itself?

As we mourn the fatal shooting of Denver Broncos CB Darrent Williams, we will hear plenty of similarities between Williams' murder and the killing of Tupac Shakur over 10 years ago. Yes, in both cases the victim was killed as a result of a drive-by shooting after a night club party. Yes, both were taken too young by a mix of bad tempers and firearms. However, there is another comparison here that unfortunately few, if any, media personalities will make. In 1978, California Angels outfielder Lyman Bostock was shot and killed during a visit to his uncle in Gary, Indiana. According to his Wikipedia entry, Bostock was sitting in the back seat of his uncle's car when another car pulled up along side them at a traffic intersection. The driver of the second car got out and fired one blast of a .410 caliber shotgun into the back seat, hitting Bostock. Bostock died two hours later. Unfortunately, the gunman's target was not the Angels outfielder but the gunman's estranged wife, who was along with the group as a guest of Bostock's uncle.

Of course, it is easier to associate Williams' death with that of Tupac than with Lyman Bostock's death nearly 30 years ago. It makes for better press and it is much easier to vilify the rap/urban culture than to look at the deeper reason behind why people resort to murder to settle their problems.

Whether Bostock or Williams were targets or accidental victims, this pattern of tragic events only reflects the violence in our society. From images of Donald Trump's riches to videos of "pimped-out" trucks with shiny accessories, we have grown more materialistic as a people and the difference between our "haves" and our "have-nots" has grown at a nearly unprecedented rate. So combine the accidents of Williams and Bostock with the notion of the athlete as a high-income target, growing materialism, and the hope of athletes to spend time in increasingly dangerous areas and the trend of violence should continue unabated.

Hopefully we can stop this mindless violence involving athletes before the headline incidents that have occurred in South America become a reality in the U.S. More athletes need to heed the warnings of their respective employers and minimize their potential for violence by keeping a low profile, walking away, or avoiding dangerous areas. If a change in financial status and employment responsibilities means not hanging around former stomping grounds anymore, so be it. And if sports franchises are not warning their employees, from their performers on the field to their concessionaires, about unsafe areas, shame on them. Athletes especially should be reminded constantly that as long as their average salaries remain so drastically higher than the average U.S. worker, they, along with other "haves", will continue to be targeted, with murder often being a sad consequence.

Unfortunately, I am sure Williams' death will be blamed more on the culture to which his vehicle, his lifestyle, or even his skin color are associated than the fact that this sort of horrible violence has and will continue to occur as long as people choose to increase their income or settle their disputes with the pull of a trigger. It's not the gun, the music, the gold, or the neighborhoods. It's us.

Increase the peace and be safe out there.

- Jordi