Can the Sports Media Resist This Temptation?

How soon until we see this headline, or some variant: "Much Adu About Nothing"?

Another Collection of Random Asides

Stream of consciousness without much thought on:

1. If a major professional hockey league disbands in a forest and nobody hears it implode, did it ever exist? And we think baseball has economic problems!

2. USC beat Arizona, 45-0, while Ohio State snuck past Purdue, 16-13 in overtime. The computers that play a large role in the Bowl Championship Series (BCS) rankings (pay no attention to the men behind the curtain) dropped the Trojans and elevated the Buckeyes, putting OSU in the driver's seat for the right to be pummelled by Oklahoma in the "national championship game". I'm hoping against hope that USC and OSU both win out and the BCS is, once again, revealed to be a sham of a mockery of a fraud. I've said if before (hell, I wrote an editorial about it in my high school newspaper), and I'll certainly say it again - to no real end - a 16-team Division I college football playoff would be the single biggest event of the American sporting calendar, would rake in megabucks eclipsing the cash available in the bowl system, and would not adversely impact the "student-athletes" involved. AND IT WOULD ENSURE THAT A LEGITIMATE NATIONAL CHAMPION WAS CROWNED ON THE FIELD AND NOT IN THE NEWSPAPERS, ELECTRONIC ETHER, AND ABACUSES OF AMERICA'S MATHEMATICS PHD CANDIDATES. This must happen. It makes too much sense not to happen. And so, it surely won't happen any time soon.

3. Andy Roddick is the world's No. 1-ranked tennis player. Yawn.

4. Is there any doubt at all that both Keyshawn Johnson and Warren Sapp will be courted heavily by Little Danny Starfucker? Hear me now and believe me later: if either wears Washington Redskins burgundy and gold next season, I will have a new favorite NFL team. (edit for clarity's sake: it should be noted that I am currently a 'Skins fan. if our meddlesome, football-dumb owner overpays for these two wildly overrated but big name players, I'll find a new team.)

Good for Them. Bad for Me.

The Tampa Bay Buccaneers just placed loudmouth me-first, team-second wideout Keyshawn Johnson on their inactive list, effectively ending his season. Johnson had no reported injuries - the Bucs simply got tired of his crap. This should happen more often, just not to members of my struggling fantasy football team.

Hell, He'd be More Entertaining Than Grady

Former Red Sox pitcher and noted eccentric Bill "Spaceman" Lee announced his candidacy for the vacant Red Sox managerial job today. I'm all for it. Baseball, and sports in general, needs more lunatics.

Awesome, Baby!

I love Dick Vitale. Yes, he's a one-trick pony. Yes, he's an unashamed apologist for the basketball coaching fraternity. Yes, he's loud, he's a charicature, he's more entertainer than serious analyst. But he loves basketball, and he loves what he gets to do for a living, and both of those things are plainly obvious every time he broadcasts a game, whether it's Duke/Carolina or Austin Peay/Middle Tennessee State.

Heard Dickie V last night for the first time in a few months as Wake Forest/Memphis kicked off the Coaches Vs. Cancer Classic in Madison Square Garden. College hoops season makes me happy, and so does hearing Dickie's voice.

Tilting at Random Windmills

Here, in no particular order, are a few of the things that I'm thinking about today:

1. The Balkanization of college football.

Today brings news that Notre Dame is considering joining the ACC in all sports. Why doesn't the NCAA just get it over with and form a 60 team superconference to suck up all available free cash? The genie's out of the bottle on money in intercollegiate athletics, so let's end the charade. Pay the players, remove restrictions on boosters, consolidate the power programs, and form NFL II. At least it'd be honest, which can't be said for the current system which treats "student-athletes" (and think of those quotation marks as me holding my fingers in the air and winking) as indentured servants while coaches and athletic directors (read: mostly older white guys) get rich.

2. The Milwaukee Brewers are cutting payroll.

From $50m in 2002, to $40m in 2003, to a reported $30m in 2004. But thanks for building us this pretty new stadium with taxpayer dollars. Exhibit XXY in the case for corruption, arrogance, and mismanagement in Major League Baseball.

3. Is there an NBA player uglier than Cherokee Parks? Has there ever been?

4. Tim Kurkjian: Elf or just really weird-looking human? And speaking of Elf - does the sight of Will Ferrell in green tights jumping on a Christmas tree inspire anyone else to uncontrollable giggling?

More to come.

Target-Rich Environment

I could easily maintain a voluminous blog dedicated to the insane mumblings of New York Yankee owner George Steinbrenner, but I'd feel dirty about spending that much time in the sewer. Today brings news of Big Stein's outrage over Hideki Matsui's failure to capture the American League Rookie of the Year award. Set aside for a moment the fact that Matsui is a multiple MVP of Japan's best league, and that he's a rookie in name only. Set aside, too, the fact that he's a 29 year-old, physically mature man, and the award winner, Kansas City's Angel Berroa is a 21 year-old kid. Consider only the pain and suffering that the Baseball Writers of Association of America (BBWAA) has inflicted upon poor, misunderstood George (definitely not Gheorghe).

Isn't it enough that Steinbrenner voraciously and transparently attempts to buy championships each year, and that baseball's economic structure allows him to do it? Nevermind. I've worn that soapbox out and don't have the energy or inclination to climb aboard it again. Suffice it to say that whenever Big Stein is whining, I know that whoever caused his angst is right.

TMQ Finds a New Home

Gregg Easterbrook's Tuesday Morning Quarterback column, which delights in poking fun at various on- and off-field NFL-related foibles, has resurfaced at FootballOutsider, at least temporarily. TMQ used to be hosted on ESPN.com's Page 2, before Easterbrook wrote a clumsy piece about the forthcoming Mel Gibson movie The Passion on his New Republic blog. Among other things, Easterbrook called out Disney chief exec Michael Eisner in the piece. Disney owns ESPN, and before you could say "rabid anti-dentite", Easterbrook found himself canned from the sporting press.

TMQ used to be a great, sort of inside jokey counter-cultural look at the NFL. It's devolved over time to take on a more formulaic, know-it-all tone, but Easterbrook is still the smartest person covering football. And more fun, he loves tweaking the powers that be in the No Fun League over issues large (the NFL's insane DirectTV contract) and small (the Buffalo Bills' hideous uniforms, for starters). If he'd just cut the column by 50%, we'd be getting somewhere.

Sounds Like Daddy May Have, ahem, "Talked" to Junior

Nice to see Kellen Winslow, Jr. apologize for his infantile rant after his Miami Hurricanes lost to Tennessee on Saturday. Seems clear that his father and namesake told the lad that a) he's not a "soldier, and b) his comments were particularly immature.

Winslow's another in a looong line of athletes who, after spending their formative years being told how great they are by all manner of sycophants - young and old, completely lose perspective about their place in society. In some ways, it's difficult to blame him, and others like him, because we as a society have created this monster. On the other hand, look no further than LeBron James - the poster child for adult idol-worship from a young age - to find a celebrated young athlete who seems to have at least a little perspective. James was on the cover of Sports Illustrated as a 16 year-old, for the love of Pete. And, at least publicly, he's not had many missteps in the course of his introduction into the professional ranks, choosing instead to talk about his teammates and how much he has to learn.

Of course, until about 6 months ago, I thought Kobe Bryant was a stand-up guy, too.

Thoughts While I Kill the Final Moments of the Workweek

To borrow - liberally - from a much more accomplished man, I can't define Gheorgheness, but I know it when I see it. Jon Stewart's got a whole heaping mound of Gheorgheness. Dan Snyder (or, as he'll come to be known in this space, Little Danny Starfucker) is the antithesis of Gheorghe. John Riggins has a PhD in Gheorgheness. George Will is a George, but not a Gheorghe. Yao's a little bit Gheorghy, but Kobe's not. Kevin Millar teaches Gheorghe 101 in Boston, but Roger Clemens flunked out of the course. Emeril Lagasse seems to know which wine goes best with Gheorghe. Mark Cuban's thinking about making Gheorghe an honorary Maverick.

I can't think of a single politician with Gheorgheness, though Dennis Kucinich is really funny-looking. Stewart Scott aspires to Gheorgheness, but he's so fake that he can't pull it off. Rich Eisen can, though. Too bad he's dead. Well, taken a job at the NFL Network - 6 one, 1/2 dozen the other. Dennis Miller used to be chock full of hearty Gheorgheness, then he took a hard right turn and became a caricature. Michael Moore is so far from Gheorghe that he might as well be a short, fat, humorless troll. Oh. That simile ran smack into the wall of reality, didn't it?

Jack Black is the high priest of Gheorghe, attended by his happy alcolyte, Jeremy Piven. But not by John Favreau, David Spade, or Colin Quinn. The Kids in the Hall gaily genuflect to Gheorghe while they get Girl Drink Drunk. Sting's got more anti-Gheorghe in his pinky than Bruce Springsteen does in his whole family, though, to be sure, I still like both of their music. And speaking of music, the Wiggles are thinking about making Gheorghe a new recurring character - Greg will pull him out of the magic hat.

Mission Statement, or What's a Gheorghe, and Why Should I Care?

I don't trust anyone that can't laugh at himself. I think that Crash Davis was dead on, right up until he started talking about Susan Sontag, at which point I tuned out. I'm hopelessly addicted to the Boston Red Sox, even though I know it's not good for me. I believe that sports, like society at large, is full of self-important, egomaniacal windbags at all levels, and I intend to use this space to tilt at the windmills that threaten to suck all of the joy out of the things that I love.

This space is named, with love, for the most fun athlete ever to draw a paycheck from a professional franchise. Gheorghe Muresan, late of the Washington Bullets and New Jersey Nets, stood 7'7" and weighed 330+ pounds. He shuffled around a basketball court like a slightly more mobile version of Frankenstein's monster, with a splay-footed gait and elbows and knees that flailed about as if independently operated. His elongated, comically expressive face conveyed the unmistakable glee and amazement with which he viewed his place in the NBA’s firmament, even as he made the often numbing journey from rookie to veteran. He played a handful of NBA seasons with a modicum of success, being honored as the NBA's Most Improved Player in 1995-96. Most importantly, though, he played basketball and approached life with a pure, unadulterated joy that was, and is, unmatched by any other professional athlete.

Gheorghe's spirit and the joy with which he appears to approach life offer lessons for all of us about the important things. This space will celebrate those in sports and elsewhere that live with Gheorgheness, and skewer those that think they are more important than the game - be it sports or life. Gheorghe: The Internet Magazine, had a brief, meteoric run several years ago, flaming to earth in a blaze of apathy amidst rampant rumors of financial mismanagement. Gheorghe: The Blog rises like a phoenix from the ashes, or at least like a Weeble, to carry on the Gheorghian mission.