I hope you remember game 6 of the 2013 NBA Finals (part 3)

The 2014 Finals ended like two weeks ago.  Probably time for me to finish this article up.  God, it's so horrible.  I'm not even enjoying picking it apart.  This is the thankless job of a blogger.

I knew that shot was going in.

I already did this last post, but let me translate for Bill: because the shot went in, he wants you to think that he knew it was going in, even though he had no more idea than anyone else watching that game.

I would have wagered anything. Even with a 102-degree temperature, even with dried contacts, even with a lump of phlegm wedged in my throat, even with everything feeling vaguely white and hazy — 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

the same way you feel right before you die, I’m guessing — 

Holy Jesus, you had a head cold.  Get over yourself.  You're an embarrassment.  NO ONE HAS SUFFAHED LIKE I HAVE SUFFAHED!  I WAS DRINKING COUGH SYRUP FROM THE BOTTLE, PEOPLE!

I saw the future once Ray started moving backward. I had watched him nail those shots too many times. Nobody had been better in those moments. Nobody. I remember yelping when the shot went through. I remember the fans losing their minds. I remember thinking, There’s no way he didn’t step on a line; it’s impossible, even for Ray, there’s just no way.

This is melodramatic writing, and the person who wrote it should be either heavily edited or fired.

They started reviewing the play. We whirled around and studied replays on our undersized monitor. Unbelievable. Never touched either line. You could compare it to only one other NBA shot: Kareem’s walk-off sky hook in Game 6 of the 1974 Finals, which saved Milwaukee at the buzzer in double overtime. If Kareem missed it, Boston took the title. If he made it, Milwaukee hosted Game 7. He made it. One problem: The Celtics flew to Milwaukee and won the title there, anyway.

How surprising!  I am truly shocked that this column about how the 2013 Heat beat the 2013 Spurs has turned into a reminder of a Celtics title from decades earlier.  Never saw it coming, not even when we were reminded that even though Allen plays for the Heat, Bill knows more about him than any of us dumb readers, because only Bill studied Allen's every move while he was in Boston.

This time around, Ray Allen saved Miami’s season and swung the title. 

Take that, Kareem!  Loser!

There’s never been a greater NBA shot. 

I hate Robert Horry (and the Lakers) and the legend surrounding him, but he's hit several shots as great as that one, with similar degree of difficulty.  Speaking of the Lakers, Derek Fisher hit a huge shot that had such an insane degree of difficulty that it contributed to the NBA changing the rules about whether such shots were physically possible in the amount of time Fisher had.  That's pretty cool.  

God I hate the Lakers.

With all due respect to Jordan’s iconic jumper against the ’98 Jazz, Allen’s shot had similar clutchness, bigger stakes and a higher degree of difficulty. If you or I caught that pass as we were backpedaling, then launched a desperation 3 with someone running at us, we’d screw up every time. Only a few players could dream of making that shot with that footwork — Kobe, Durant, Bird, T-Mac, Reggie Miller, maybe Jamal Crawford with lower stakes — but the moment itself made it a different animal. You wouldn’t want anyone else shooting that shot other than Ray Allen. His whole career led to those three seconds. It really did.

Shut the fuck up.  Really, that's what I could write as a consistent response throughout this whole mess of an article.

I love so many things about the NBA, but over everything else, it’s those moments when you know you’re seeing something special — something that will get replayed forever, something that lets you say, “Yeah, I was there,” 

On the ESPN set!  Next to Jalen Rose!  More quasi-semi-Peter King-ian unsubtle bragging.

and someone else turns into Will Hunting and screams, “Really? You were there? YOU WERE FUCKING THERE?” 

These moments happen in literally every professional sport.

I was there for Gar Heard’s miracle heave in Boston, Bird’s steal from Isiah and Magic’s baby sky hook over McHale and Parish. Now, I was there for Ray’s 3. That’s four all-timers. 

All for Boston!  Or basically for Boston!  When Allen hit that shot, he was really doing it for Big Papi Nation!

Only Ray’s moment remains hazy. 

You just spent four paragraphs talking about how well you remember it.

Everything was white and blurry, and then, there was Ray, and everything got clear for a second. Yeah, I was there.

Super compelling writing.

And here’s what happens when you’re there: You’re crammed around a basketball court watching these physical freaks bring out the best in each other, and occasionally, something unbelievable happens, and it creates this sound that can’t even really be described. It’s the single best sound, actually. 

This isn't at all repetitive.  Say what you will about Simmons, and I always do, but man--I'll never accuse him of using too few words.

When Bird dueled Dominique in 1988, Game 7, we made that sound for most of the fourth quarter. We knew something magical was happening. 

FACK YOU!  WE AHHHHHHH SPECIAL!

You attend hundreds and hundreds of games waiting for that sound to happen. In Game 6, it happened. Ray’s 3 swung the title and preserved a small chunk of LeBron’s legacy. It shattered a magnificent San Antonio team and kept Miami’s three-peat alive. 

OK.  We got it.  Thanks.  Move on.

And it guaranteed that Ray Allen would make the Hall of Fame on the first ballot.

He was already going to make the HOF on the first ballot (he's 26th all time in scoring, just behind Ewing and Duncan--he just passed Barkley and Iverson--The More You Know), but actually, that's a non-shitty argument.  There are probably a handful of dumb voters who were won over by that shot.

You know what happened next. 

YOU'D REMEMBER IT IF YOU WERE THERE!  I WAS THERE!  I REMEMBER ALL OF IT!  IT'S SUPER FUZZY AND HAZY, EXCEPT ALL THE PARTS I REMEMBER!  I DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING!

Parker missed San Antonio’s last shot in regulation, with a little help from a barely perceptible shove by LeBron. Miami prevailed in overtime, escaping after Bosh swallowed up Danny Green’s last-second 3 attempt. Our studio show popped on TV after midnight. Wilbon went first, then Magic, then Jalen, then me. I declared that no NBA team had ever come closer to winning a title without actually winning a title, which I hoped was true. (It was.) We bantered for a few minutes, then returned a few minutes later and did it again. We filmed a couple more segments, then we were done. The whole thing wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as I expected. In retrospect, I would have rather written about it.

TV is NAWT glamorous!  I have an insider's perspective!  You like hearing me tell you about it!  Jalen and I are best friends!  

I'd rather read a description of what it's like to watch paint dry.

Instead, I returned to my hotel room, cranked the thermostat to 80 and crashed. I stayed in bed for the next 36 hours. I lost six pounds. I finished the first half of Season 5 of Breaking Bad. 

Tell me more, please.

I watched the Bruins blow a Stanley Cup game. 

I NEVAH LIKED THEM ANYWAYS!  FACK THE BROONS!  I AM A HAWKEY ORPHAN!  MY HOMETOWN TEAM DIDN'T WIN A CHAMPIONSHIP FOR A WHILE!  WAS I SUPPOSED TO KEEP CARING ABOUT THEM?  WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?  NOW I CAN DIE IN PEACE!  Bill Simmons is a dicknozzle.

I launched an antibiotics cycle with help from an NBA doctor. 

I HAVE CONNECTIONS!

I ordered room service and barely touched it. I felt like a failure for never writing a Game 6 column. I took hot shower after hot shower, since it was the only thing that made my head feel better. I wondered if I would make it to Game 7. I remember every single thing about that dark room.

This is excruciating.  Find me a more self-obsessed writer and I'll PayPal you a dollar.

Around 4 p.m. the following afternoon, the TV adrenaline started kicking in. We were five hours away from Game 7. I took another hot shower, shaved my face, slipped on a wrinkled suit, knotted a colorful tie, 

Beautiful description.  Feels like I'm there. 

gnawed on another cough drop. Then I pulled open the curtains to my room, the light blinding me from every angle. 

Or just from the window.  One of the two.  Someone get this asshole an editor.

I waited for my eyes to adjust, and when they did, I could see the water and the buildings lurking in front of me. Downtown Miami was waiting. So was Game 7.

Shut the fuck up.  See, told you I'd come back to that.  I don't even know if I'll eventually finish this disaster.  It's truly one of the worst things he's ever written.  Sorry about the only once a week posting, by the way.  It's summer.  I'm often busy during the evenings, when I usually tend to write.  Want to read a 4,000 word piece about the time I played softball with a twisted ankle, and how much I remember about the game, but don't remember?  Didn't think so.  I'll try to post more frequently during July.

WMTMQR: From a TMQ Column That's Hot Off the Presses

Yeah so I skipped the TMQ from two weeks ago. It wasn't anything special anyways. Certainly not as pathetic as this week's, which in addition to Gregg's regular dosage of mindless bullshit, irrational reasoning, and WRONG included not one but three photos of NFL cheerleaders. Look, I like T and A as much as the next guy. Specifically I am an A man. But Jesus Criminy on a pogo stick, Gregg. Tone it down. You're a fucking weirdo.

McNabb celebrated his deal by throwing three interceptions, one a pick-six, and posting a wretched 69.4 passer rating.

Considering the Redskins were down 14-0 before the opening kickoff and 70-0 at the end of the first quarter, it's not surprising that the Eagles were ready for McNabb to throw a shit ton of passes. He actually was on the verge of getting them back in the game a couple times with big plays. I'm not saying he's not washed up or that he deserved the money, but he didn't really have that horrible of a game when you consider the circumstances.

The situation was so messed up that even though the Redskins' cheerleaders danced throughout the first half in two-piece summer outfits -- despite a cool night and light rain -- 36 gorgeous scantily attired women dancing in the rain could not improve the home team's fortunes.

Yeah, see this is what I'm talking about. Is he a closeted homosexual and overcompensating for it? Is he trying to piss his wife off? Is he just a nerd who can't keep his excitement about good looking broads to himself? Your guess is as good as mine.

And Shanahan's game management! Trailing 42-14 in the second quarter, he had Washington punt on fourth-and-1. Punting on fourth-and-1 when down by four touchdowns!

FOR SHAME! PUNTING IS ALWAYS WRONG ALWAYS AND FOREVER EVEN WHEN IT'S THE FIRST HALF AND YOU'RE DOWN 28 AND IT'S FAR FROM TIME TO PANIC. There will be time for that later! (More on that later)

Hakeem Nicks started to run a slant, then inexplicably stopped in his tracks; Eli Manning threw the slant, Dallas corner Bryan McCann cut in front and returned the pick 101 yards for a touchdown, turning a close contest into what would become a Boys rout. The botched play was sour. So was the call -- can't anybody just run at the goal line in the NFL anymore?

If you watch any amount of football on any given weekend, you'd know the answer to that is "sometimes." I'm a Broncos fan, and at the end of last season I saw a stat that they were stopped for no gain or a loss of yardage when running the ball from the opponents' 1 yard line like 40 times last year. It was something like 2.5 times per game, pretty sad considering how rare it is to have a possession on the 1. For a single anecdote from this season, check out the Bears' possession at 10:37 here.

Scoring to pull within 23-17 with 2:10, Cincinnati onside kicked. Last month yours truly decried "an officiating problem that has been driving TMQ crazy for years. In a scramble for a loose ball, if any player takes possession for even an instant, with a knee down and in contact with an opponent, the play should end. But zebras don't officiate mad scrambles this way. They let the players fight for the ball, then award possession to whoever wins the Darwinian struggle. Often the fighting continues although all players involved have their knees down."

Who quotes themselves directly like that? And it should be so easy for the refs to know exactly when the play ends and blow their whistle right then as 10 players all converge on a loose ball at top speed! Why haven't they started doing that, since there's certainly no way it would ever lead to them fucking up the call and completely changing the course of a game.

That's exactly what happened on the Cincinnati onside kick.

I was watching this game. It's not what happened.

Pierre Garçon of Indianapolis fielded the kick, had control and went to both knees.

He never had control.

The whistle should have sounded -- down over. Instead, the zebras allowed players to fight and pull for the ball for a solid 15 seconds.

Because before the pile formed, no one had possession while down by contact.

Someone ripped the ball away from Garçon -- remember, he was down!

Without control.

-- and possession was awarded to Cincinnati.

Class Gregg- revisionist history used to prove an impractically stupid point. See also: EVERY BLITZ IN THE HISTORY OF ORGANIZED FOOTBALL HAS FAILED- HERE ARE TWO EXAMPLES.

Having the quarterback march around holding the ball, defense not realizing the ball has been snapped, is a longstanding youth league trick. In another variation of this action, the quarterback says loudly, "There's something wrong with the ball." The center hands the quarterback the ball, thus snapping; the offensive line goes Stonehenge; the quarterback walks toward the sideline as if to show the ball to an official, then sprints up the field for a touchdown. Though the snap and the Stonehenge line were kosher, TMQ thinks the middle-school play could be flagged. "No player shall act in an unsportsmanlike manner," says the National Federation of High Schools football rulebook which governs most high school and middle-school play. The NCAA and NFL have similar rules. Trying to trick the defense into allowing an uncontested touchdown doesn't sound particularly sporting, especially if it involves pretending to speak to the officials, since players are supposed to become passive when the officials are involved.

Ludicrous. Given that perspective, here are some other things Gregg might find unsporting:
-End arounds
-HB passes
-The triple option (too deceptive!)
-Passing to a WR who is taller than the DB covering him
-Running away from a player who is slower than you while you are in possession of the ball
-Blocking

Instead Chiefs coaches called a pass; Matt Cassel ran backward all the way to the 19, where he was hit and fumbled; Denver's Jason Hunter took the fumble the length of the field for a touchdown and a 35-0 Denver lead that effectively ended the contest. Never panic in the first half; there will be plenty of time for that later!

Unless you're the Redskins on Monday Night Football and it's 42-14. When you're facing THAT particular 28 point deficit, you definitely panic and go for it on 4th down in your own territory.

TMQ in the News: Wednesday, I will be moderator for the Washington launch of the United Nations Human Development Report, one of the world's key documents.

I'M A GOOD PERSON! NOTICE THIS!

This year's report has a hopeful tone -- it shows that in most cases, poor nations are making decent progress. The report summary is here and the event announcement is here. I became interested in developing world advancement rates when researching

I'M SMART!

my 2003 book, "The Progress Paradox,"

BUY MY BOOK!

and have since done what I can to draw attention to the subject, including, in most recent years, helping the report launch.

I AM SUCH A GOOD PERSON! AND NOT AT ALL SELF-RIGHTEOUS!

Steelers, Patriots Meet in Arena League Action: New England got steamrolled in Cleveland, then went to Pittsburgh and steamrolled the Steelers. This must prove that on any given Sunday --

Any team can win in the NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE. Jaworski'd. You know, last year I watched MNF almost every week and of course it pretty much drove me batty. Listening to Jaws, Chuckie, and that dumbfuck Tirico will do that to you. Because of my schedule this fall, I've probably only seen a grand total of 30 minutes of MNF. And I gotta say I feel just fine about that.

But a Steelers-Patriots contest in which both teams opened in the shotgun spread, and stayed shotgun spread for most of the game, was a little too postmodern for my taste.

For all your high mindedness and pretension, I'm 95% sure you're not using "postmodern" correctly there.

Trailing 10-0, the Steelers reached third-and-goal at the New England 4, threw an incompletion and kicked a field goal. Wouldn't a couple rushes have yield six points?

Maybe. Maybe not. Wouldn't a pass from an all-pro QB to a talented receiving corps have yielded six points? Wouldn't kicking on third down have been the smarter move, in case the snap got botched? Wouldn't it be great if no one started Christmas shopping until December 22nd?

Then, New England leading 29-18 with four minutes remaining and facing third-and-5, Pittsburgh blitzed seven men, and I don't even need to tell you who won the game.

Shockingly, despite trailing by 11 and not having the ball with 5 minutes left, the Steelers went on to lose. That could have been avoided, however, if they hadn't blitzed on that play. Blitzing fails every time and is a bad idea no matter what. Just ask the 2005 and 2008 Steelers.

Phillips has a low-key coaching style -- he draws up game plans but relies on players to be professionals and prepare themselves physically and psychologically. This approach worked when he was head coach of the Broncos and Bills,

To the tune of two playoff appearances and zero playoff wins in five seasons.

Was the final score poor sportsmanship? Normally the gauge of sportsmanship in football is whether a team with a big lead stops passing in the second half. Wisconsin runs the ball so well that to hold down the score, the Badgers should switch to passing. Wisconsin starters left the game early, and Wisconsin tactics in the second half were bland. The missing sportsmanship touch was that, leading 62-13 at the start of the final stanza, Wisconsin kicked extra points on its three fourth-quarter touchdowns. The Badgers should have knelt on the PATs.

Nothing screams "we care!" like forgoing that extra point. A true indication of class. Why be penny wise and pound foolish? If you're going to kneel on PAT attempts, might as well spend your possessions kneeling three times and punting.

In San Francisco, They Know About Sweet-n-Sour: San Francisco looked finished with Les Mouflons leading 17-13 with 2:30 remaining and the Forty-Niners facing third-and-32 in their territory. Troy Smith threw to Frank Gore in the left flat for 14 yards, then on fourth-and-18 threw the same play again in the left flat to Gore for 23 yards, then threw to Michael Crabtree for the touchdown.

BEWARE THE CRABTREE CURSE! Adding talented players to your team makes it worse, not better!

[Referring to the Raiders and their patchwork roster] This is a team after TMQ's heart -- castoffs and who-dats.

Remember that time he suggested that NBA teams stop using their first round picks because every year, some of them don't work out? Yes, I agree with you, that is one of the dumbest things ever written about sports.

Jacksonville Becomes the Dillon Panthers of the NFL: Jacksonville has now won games on a final-snap 59-yard field goal and a final-snap 50-yard Hail Mary. You have to feel for Texans defender Glover Quin, who tried to knock the pass to the ground -- exactly what defenders should do to a Hail Mary -- only to see it carom to Jax's Mike Thomas for the winning six.

Hat tip to Jack M: if only Quin had selfishly gone for a stat-padding interception, the game might have headed to OT.

BCS note: Can sportscasters and sportswriters please stop referring to the USA Today and Harris polls as the "human" polls? No other species gets a vote -- the BCS is obviously worried the Klingons would like TCU more than Auburn.

Does he know how the BCS works? He knows that there are computer rankings (admittedly not really true "polls," but still) involved, right?

Stop Me Before I Blitz Again!: City of Tampa leading Carolina 24-16 with 4:40 remaining, the Bucs faced third-and-15 in their own territory. Play straight defense here and a stop is statistically likely ... It's a mega-blitz! Tampa converts and scores the game-icing touchdown on the possession.

Shame on Carolina for anticipating a long-developing pass play and trying to force a sack or turnover. There's got to be some kind of weird childhood incident behind his hatred of blitzing. I don't want to speculate any further than that.

Bonus Obscure College Score of the Week: Bowdoin 26, Colby 21. OK, these schools are not obscure,

Snob alert. I am barely aware of Bowdoin's existence and couldn't begin to tell you where it is- and I had no fucking idea Colby was a school or where it is.

but I make an exception because this was the final college football game for my son Grant, Bowdoin's left tackle. Plus you gotta love a contest that pits the Polar Bears against the Mules. Leading 26-21, Bowdoin took possession on its 1-yard line with 9:17 remaining and staged a 14-play clock-killer drive, closing out the game. Twelve of the snaps were rushes, allowing Grant and his fellow offensive linemen a moment in the sun as the season concluded. Grant's best two college games were

Too long; didn't read. It's funny- Gregg and Simmons hate each other and are usually polar opposites in terms of writing content and style, yet they both hold the incorrect assumption that I give one quarter of one percent of a shit about their kids. Just write about the NFL, jackass. No one cares about your family. Or your book.

Time to Rip Off Simmons (even moreso than I normally do)

[Note added after the post was finished: it's pretty long, and there's a link to a charity thing at the end. So if you're one of those people with a short attention span, just go all the way down and check that out.]

In what way will I rip Simmons off this time? I mean, everything I do rips him off in some way, because I'm super jealous of him, a fact which one or two Simmons fanboys are usually quick to remind me of in the comments every time I do a post on him. But THIS TIME I'll rip him off by doing a post that more or less amounts to a mailbag. Before we get there, though, let me provide you with some background/tell all four of you readers something I've wanted to tell you for a long time. In addition to being something I want to get off my chest, it will also give context to the post.

So the very, very brief history of FireJay is as follows: pnoles, Chris W, dan-bob, me, and maybe some other people got together via email and decided to form the blog in May 2007. We later discovered that there was already some blog out there called "Fire John Morgan" which we were allegedly copying, both in terms of format and content. Who knew? I had certainly never heard of them until some mean ol' commenters over here let me know of their existence. Anyways, that's how it all got started.

From then up until August 2008 (when I finally fulfilled my dream of one day studying law), FireJay ate up a lot of my time. I really got into it- tried to post every weekday, or at least three or four out of every five; checked the Google Analytics every single day; tried to get us linked on Deadspin and The Big Lead, even though The Big Lead is a complete and total travesty; frequently checked the email account and responded to anyone who wrote in; engaged in email back-and-forths with real sportswriters like Jeff Pearlman and Jerry Crasnick- yeah, I mean, I was into it. I guess you could say that I really wanted to be part of the BLOGOSPHERE.

In any case, like I said, in August 2008, shit changed. I got a lot busier than I had been, for one thing. I also was maybe a little burnt out on blogging- turns out that at some point, as most members of the BLOGSITES will attest to, it starts feeling less like fun and more like a chore. I know the other writers listed over there on the left sidebar will attest to that. (That's not a passive-aggressive dig at them- they already know I hate them for posting so infrequently.) So yeah, that's kind of how it's worked for the past 22 months or so. Posting has obviously tapered off.

But don't worry, this story doesn't end with "So that's why I'm telling you that we're shutting the blog down." No, not at all. We're going to continue at our current pace pretty much as long as we feel like; a couple shitty posts a week, many of them short. We'll keep half-assedly writing them as long as you keep half-assedly commenting on them! I mean, just because I'm not nearly as excited about doing this as I used to be doesn't mean I should stop doing it entirely. There's still shitty sportswriting out there and I'll be damned if I don't occasionally take a few cheap pot shots at it.

So if the point of the story wasn't to announce that we're shutting down the blog, what was it? Well, of course, part of it was to tell the few of you who are devoted readers and check the blog every day to please keep doing so. We're not going away entirely anytime soon. But the other part (which I really could've just come out and said, rather than taking this roundabout route) is to tell you that until tonight, I had not checked the official, Google sponsored FireJay email account since last August. I shit you not. Kind of crazy. I can't believe they didn't close it, really. But they didn't- and upon logging in, I was met with 5,000 pieces of spam (most of them announcing that we've won a lottery- a disappointingly small number of the "GROW UR DICK 9 INCHES IN A WEEK" variety) and about ten relevant emails.

So tonight, because I am both lazy and super jealous of Bill Simmons, I will write what basically amounts to a mailbag column. I bet maybe two of the people who wrote these emails end up seeing these responses, but that's OK. The rest of you can read anyways. And hey, maybe as a result you'll be inspired to write your own email to firejaymariotti@gmail.com; at this rate, I'll get back to you around April 2011. And awayyyyy we go.

On August 13, some dude who wrote a blog called Fire Rick Reilly (DOESN'T HE KNOW HE'S RIPPING OFF FIRE JAY MARIOTTI?????) checked in to thank us for adding him to our blogroll, which I had promised to do about a month earlier.

Hey Larry,

Thanks for your note. I appreciate you looking at the site and putting me up on your blogroll. Keep writing.

-Tapps

I say "wrote" rather than using the present tense because Fire Rick Reilly hasn't been updated since March 31. And I didn't follow through on that promise then. BUT I WILL NOW. Enjoy, Tapps. Maybe this will inspire you to get back into blogging so you can quit again in a few more months.

On October 6, Dan emailed us about Gene W. You know which Gene W he's referring to.

Please write about his terrible article about the game last night. He says he was raised on the Packers (long before Favre was around) yet he's happier to see Favre win than his favorite team tie up the division and get a key divisional win, not to mention sucking him off for every throw he made when he had all the time he wanted. And despite 2 turnovers, Rodgers still kept them in the game even though his line quit on him and the game changed for good after that 4th down drop. Swap quarterbacks and the Vikings probably win by more.

Apt analysis. Although let's not dump on Aaron Rodgers too much- not only is he a good QB, he also shat all over Tony Kornheiser last week. And anyone who does that is cool in my book.

He is a terrible writer, only using hyperbole and making stars like Favre and Tiger seem invincible, then disappearing or making excuses when they fail (like the Jets season and saying Tiger was absolutely winning the British, then after he missed the cut writing about how it's no big deal, Tiger's reign isn't over). Fuck him

Dan

Welcome to sports journalism, Dan. I assume that in the last 8 months you've become more and more familiar with the "make a bold/outrageous claim- pretend you never made the claim when you end up being totally wrong" phenomenon. You know, that's the one redeeming part about Around the Horn- all those morons call each other out for their dumb predictions since they see each other every day. And that's the last nice thing I'll ever say about Around the Horn. I also want to start ending emails with "Fuck [person place or thing] Larry" with no punctuation. I dig it.

From November 10 (email titled "GREGG EASTERBROOK!!!")-

Since I know you guys will comment on gregg easterbrook; column at some point.

I did.

You could comment on how he doesn't understand ineligible receiver rules.

Unfortunately, I didn't. I mostly bitched about the Crabtree Curse. BEWAAAAAAAAAARE

A couple weeks ago and in this week's coumn he wrote about a screen pass that goes for a touchdown that should be called back because of lineman downfield. But if its a screen pass behind the line of scrimmage it doesn't matter. I just find it funny he's brought this up multiple times. It might even be a weekly thing, I can't stand reading his whole column every week.

Have fun with this weeks TMQ,
Chris.

"It might even be a weekly thing, I can't stand reading his whole column every week" pretty much sums up my thoughts on almost everything Easterbrook writes. Science fiction movies are unrealistic. The team in Friday Night Lights DOES NOT PLAY AN ACCURATE TEXAS HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL SCHEDULE. There are football gods. Teams that kick field goals when they're down 35-0 with 3 minutes left are doing it because they are desperate to avoid shutouts. Etc. Although I've gotta say I do enjoy when he calls out public officials for spending money on ridiculous bullshit. That 1% of his writing is cool with me.

Fast forward all the way to December 30. James wants us to know that:

Jay has no facts but equates Leach to the torture in Midnight Express.
This joke of a sports expert has no credibility. He works with Craig James, he knows Craig James, thus James' kid can do no wrong.

If I never hear another word about Craig James's silver spoon fed crybaby spoiled child, I won't shed any tears over it. Obviously Mike Leach is insane, and probably did some shit he shouldn't have, but yeah- Craig James can kiss my dick for the way he handled that whole thing. And while I never read Mariotti's take on it, I'm sure that take was a complete and total fucking bullshit.

Maybe trying for some bromance with his colleagues. Ozzie Guillen had it right.

The Blizzard did indeed have it right.

On January 17, a dude without a name sent a link to an amazing article re: why stat nerds know nothing about who belongs in baseball's HOF and who doesn't. I'm not going to post the link because I want to do a full writeup of the article. It's preposterously funny.

The non-spam emails were coming fast and furious at this point. Must be the cold weather keeping people inside, right? Except that blog nerds are ALWAYS inside, which is why they don't know how to talk to girls or what it feels like to go from first to third on a single to right. So I guess that's not an explanation. Anyways, on February 9, Chris (a different Chris than before) wrote in:

Hi.

As a fan of your site, I created my own version of the types of things you're well known for.

I hope you like it.

He attached a Fire____ type breakdown of an article about a Giants Eagles game from 2008. I'm very flattered. It's getting a little dusty in here, honestly. Good to know that as the non-asshole version of Ken Tremendous once inspired me (like... pre-2007 Ken Tremendous), I inspired someone else. The guy has a blog, but it's not a Fire____ blog- just a blog about shit he likes. I think it's kind of cool. He hasn't updated since late April though, so like FireRickReilly, this one's time may have already passed. Check it out anyways. (He didn't put his article breakdown on the blog- just emailed the text.)

Just a few days later, on February 14, Trevor asked us to:

Please please please please please please please do a takedown of Jemele Hill's latest column.

We didn't, unfortunately, but be sure to check out the column anyways. Guess what? It's fucking terrible. And somewhat topical, even four months later.

March brings a few things to the sports world: spring training, March Madness, and NFL draft hype. OK, spring training actually starts in February and NFL draft hype starts in September. But whatever. On March 17, annoyed by all the bullshitting and ridiculous prognosticating about a certain Jesus-loving now-Denver Bronco, Justin sent us a long and thoughtful email. He started by kissing our asses. Sort of.

Dear kind folks at FireJayMariotti,

I enjoy your site immensely, even if there has been a bit of downtime on it lately.

Right. Like I said though, don't give up on us.

Just as well, I haven't been as frequent a visitor as I used to be due to an uptick in things going on, so I completely and implicitly understand, and I'd apologize, I guess, but I'm not sure to what.

Right. Not sure where that sentence was going, but no apology necessary. So then Justin did kind of a cool "guess who said this?" setup and copied and pasted a couple pieces of analysis (analysis in italics) uttered/dictated by ESPN's talking heads without telling us who wrote them until later. The first:

So what I would do with Tebow is take him in the third or fourth round. I would commit to continuing to develop him as a passer and change his mechanics. But I would promise him and the team that he would not step foot on a football field on Sundays for two years. If that can take place in today's NFL, I believe Tebow one day down the road can be a successful quarterback.

And then the second:

I look at Tim Tebow as a football player,

I knew exactly who this commentator was once I read this. And I fucking despise him and his Legoman hair.

and that's one of the highest compliments I could pay a guy. Given the right circumstances and given the time to learn his craft at the NFL level, I don't think there's any question that he could be a successful QB. But here's his value in the first couple of years when he's probably not playing a lot -- he's going to be running a scout team situation and he's going to be making that defense better. They're going to ask him to run the Wildcat quarterback and he's going to be flying around the football field

What kind of field?

giving the defense an unbelievable look. An average Joe fan never sees that.

OK Justin. Take it away.

The first is Trent Dilfer.

Unsurprising.

The second is Mark Schlereth.

I KNEW IT. I FUCKING KNEW IT.

Yes, Tebow needs to be taught things and is a project, but the methodology they provide to make him into a top-flight player is nothing short of a combination between uneducated guessing and nonsensical ramblings.

I am simply astounded these two are continually allowed to appear on television, describing a game they once played (surprisingly) well with the logic and vocabulary of a six-year-old gushing over a toy.

Pretty much par for the course for most draft prospects, but yeah, ol' TT#15 seemed to get the "toy treatment" just a little bit more than the average dude.

Plus, Dilfer looks inbred.

Kaboom!

I doubt this will make it on the site as an entry you tear asunder, but I still felt this travesty should be duly noted. Thank you.

Noted. Well, what Dilfer and Schlereth said eventually made it onto the site. And your analysis made it too! All because I'm too lazy to write my own analysis. Ah, user generated content: the wave of the future. (Did I use that term correctly? I'm really more of a first-wave blogger; all this newer internetty stuff is beyond me.

A guy who will remain nameless, just because I don't want this to somehow pop up and get him in trouble at his job (as a newspaper writer, no less! You know, someone who's part of the OLD media!), wrote in on March 22 to give us a big electronic high five.

I am the editor of a small paper and I'm with you --- I am even emailing you from my work account, cause this guy Mariotti is so shabby (in my opinion). I'm embarrassed by him, I hate his work so very much.

[Name withheld]
Managing Editor
[Vague Midwestern Sounding Location] Times

Ah, if only you and him could switch occupations, kind sir. Interesting use of "shabby"- I think of that as a British-sounding adjective, but it works well for Mariotti too.

March 29 brought a great email- probably my favorite in this bunch. It's from Rick, and he only has one thing to say:

The guy is a joke, fire away.

That's it. That's the whole email. Sounds like you need to start alsofirejaymariotti.blogspot.com. Rick. And you know, you remind me- PNoles really shouldered the Mariotti stuff, and obviously, he doesn't write here anymore. I should make a conscious effort to take on the JayBird more often. PNoles grew up in the Chicago suburbs, and I did not, so my personal distaste for him doesn't run as deep. But yeah, I should get on that.

The account was quiet for a couple months, until May 21, when another Chris offered some analysis:

In an article i caught today: http://jay-mariotti.fanhouse.com/2010/05/20/life-isnt-fair-when-nash-cant-win-title/

"The Suns have a problem down low named Amar'e Stoudemire, who is playing like someone who will be fleeing the desert in a few weeks and signing elsewhere. Unwisely, he ridiculed Lamar Odom's 19-point, 19-rebound breakout in Game 1, saying, "I'm not giving him no hype right now...

Can't disagree with Jay's general premise. Stoudemire is a fucking dingbat.

...Stoudemire didn't help the situation by refusing to back down from his comments. "Nah, I'm gonna always be myself,'' he said at a shootaround. "That's just my character. It's just what I was feeling. It's not happening any more. We're going to contain him.'' This garbage came only days after his 54-year-old mother, Carrie Mae Stoudemire, was arrested in Scottsdale for not having an ignition interlock device on her Lincoln Navigator. The device doesn't allow a car to start unless a driver breathes into it and records a legal blood-alcohol level. Stoudemire's mother, who has been arrested several times for charges including drug possession and prostitution, received a three-year prison sentence in 2006 after she was convicted of aggravated DUI following an accident.

Meanwhile, Odom was rolling his eyes about the lucky crack."

Hooooooooo boy. Hoo boy. That Jay- oozing class, as usual. Back to Chris's take on the whole dealio.

Mariotti jabs Amar'e's mother and then just moves on. If he wants to write an article about Amar'e's sad, sad family (2 brothers in jail, a deadbeat mom and non-existent father) then he can write it. Maybe it would bring context to the man's foibles. But I'm trying to figure out what bringing up her arrest had to do with Amar'e's comments. Nice journalism, ass.

So you're saying bringing up something tragic about someone's personal life DOESN'T add context to a discussion of game-related trash talk?

Please let me know if you run this.

I'm running it, because what you said rules. If I wasn't supposed to without clearing it with you, and you want me to take it down, DON'T send us an email about it. I won't get that email. Instead, leave something in the comments. And hey, although I've identified you as Chris, you're the third one I've mentioned in this post. So you kind of blend in.

Finally, just a couple weeks ago on May 29, commenter Fred Trigger wrote in about a worthy cause:

Hey guys, Fred Trigger, as I'm sure you dont recognize the name. Would you mind giving a quick link to friends of the blog Respect Jeters Gangster? They are trying to raise money for the Childrens Health Fund and are trying to get it as much exposure as possible. Here is the link.

http://respectjetersgangster.blogspot.com/2010/05/chf-and-rjg-get-benevolent-for-children.html

Thanks.

No, thank YOU. Everyone click on that. And email it to everyone you've ever met. They're doing a raffle as part of supporting their cause, and the winner gets tickets to a Yankees/Red Sox game in August. Even if you fucking hate both those teams, which I kind of do, you have to admit that seeing a game between them in person would be kind of cool. And even if you don't want to enter the raffle, be a peach and help spread some awareness.

Well, I think this was sufficiently long. A real post, later this week? Maybe. Joe Morgan hasn't seen me post, so he can't say for sure whether I'll post again anytime soon. I might, or I might not. But anything could happen. It's a long season.

Post-Christmas Odds and Ends

A few things of note:

Simulated Bowl Games:

1. ESPN is continuing their trend of simulating bowl games on video game platforms. Here are some of their simulations for some of the average bowl games. I kind of bitched about this before the season started... and I really haven't formulated a coherent thought on this... but how many people confuse the categories of "Actual College Football News" with "A Couple of Interns in Bristol Jacking Around"?

Do they have a one-time official simulation? Do you think corn-fed Lincoln-educated interns re-run the game till the Huskers pull it out?

Simmons and Reilly:

From the ombudsman's most recent column over at the "WWL" regarding two of our favorite FJayM whipping boys:

The mailbag also received a number of inquiries concerning the absence of Conversation pages on columns by two of ESPN's most widely read writers, Rick Reilly and Bill Simmons. These pages allow readers to comment, compliment, disagree with or even disparage the writer's work and are linked directly from the column page.

Observed Brian from Rockville, Md., "It gives the impression that they are somehow beyond commentary by the fans, which I find troubling given the opinionated stances they take on issues. What does ESPN risk by not allowing dialogue and debate to accompany their work?"

What's ESPN's rationale?

"We encourage user interaction in many forms across ESPN.com," said Patrick Stiegman, vice president and executive editor & producer for ESPN.com. "In the case of Bill Simmons and Rick Reilly, based on the volume of comments, we channel feedback via heavily trafficked venues such as writer mailbags, live chats and -- in the case of Simmons -- a tremendously popular Twitter feed. Both also have distinct sections within the site (Sports Guy's World for Simmons, Go Fish for Reilly) through which fans can correspond."

Seems like one strong opinion deserves another, and it seems that's possible even without a Conversation page.

Reilly also provoked some angry feedback from readers concerning an article that appeared in ESPN The Magazine and later on ESPN.com. Some of you, as well as some bloggers, accused him of plagiarizing a column he had written earlier in his career while at Sports Illustrated. Even though it seems difficult to plagiarize yourself, a response was still in order.

Rob King, ESPN.com vice president and editor-in-chief, said he and Gary Belsky, editor of ESPN The Magazine, "looked into this immediately" and concluded that the column -- headlined "Why I love sports" -- was a case of "uncharacteristic carelessness." "Rick, who is noodling with column ideas all the time, keeps an ongoing file of works in progress, some more fully fleshed-out than others," King said. "In this instance, Rick, seeking an evergreen idea for an upcoming issue of The Magazine, inadvertently chose a set of notes he'd forgotten he'd used in a previous assignment. Rick expressed no small degree of embarrassment, and I can assure you we will put more rigorous checks in place to ensure that this won't happen again."

1. Reilly and Simmons' lack of conversation pages is simply due to volume? I smell a rat.

2. That Simmons has a widely popular Twitter feed seems appropriate: most of his thoughts aren't suited to the complexities of real life but rather to the quick-burst-inanities of the 140-characters or less.

Simmons' future columns could just be published on The Bottom Line during NBA telecasts.

3. I don't know how complex Reilly's notes are, but a column of his titled "Why I love sports" can't be that complex. He should just consult my notes on the subject of why Rick Reilly loves sports.

Either way, when you're a journalist in the Reilly ilk, it becomes pretty damn hard not to repeat yourself, since you don't go out and actually learn about sports but rather sit back and comment on them without doing the work of a journalist.

Must be Winter:

In nosing around for bad journalism, I trundled over to NBCSports (OK! I admit it! I was looking for HatGuy since I hadn't posted!). I found someone named (really) Justice B. Hill. I wonder if he is related to Jemele Hill. His articles aren't good or bad in quality, they're just overly simplistic and sentimental in topic:

Think you can hit a baseball? Think again.

and

Love for glove is baseball's first bond.

Also, Bert Blyleven writes for NBCSports. I think I'm going to see if he's written anything stupid lately.

Sports Remind Us of the Nobility Within Us

This one's for you, Larry B:

"Barbaro Memorial dedicated outside Churchill Downs"

LOUISVILLE, Ky. -- Barbaro is back home at the track where he became a legend.

Actually, I think it's a statue of him. His Wikipedia entry suggests that he (his cremains) are actually just nearby.

A bronze statue honoring the 2006 Kentucky Derby winner was unveiled on Sunday morning at Churchill Downs, nearly three years after the colt became an icon following a breakdown at the Preakness.

Flags were flown. Brass bands played.

Sculptor Alexa King designed the 1,500-pound statue, which shows Barbaro in midstride with jockey Edgar Prado aboard as the two pulled away from the rest of the 20-horse field.

I wonder why they included the weight of the statue in the article. I mean, who cares? Well, come to think of it, I could ask that same question about the article as a whole.

The horse broke down during the Preakness and spent the next eight months battling for his life. His struggles brought renewed attention to track safety and breeding practices.

His struggles brought renewed vitriol from Larry B (warning: link goes to pre-punctuation Larry B). The link is worth your time.

Owners Roy and Gretchen Jackson attended the ceremony as did hundreds of fans who were moved by the horse's battle for survival.

I think I am going back to amend my very first article here at FJayM to include more thoughts on the moving spectacle of horse racing, which reminds us of how truly noble and moving all sports are, including ones where people get on top of animals and whip the shit out of them until they run around a track.

Sports are just beautiful.

This Is Not an Anti-Boston Post

This is an anti-dumbass radio personality post. Earlier today (before game 5 of the NBA Finals, obviously), I'm flipping radio channels. I decide to head over to the local ESPN affiliate. What is the very first thing I hear from the talking head of the hour?

You know why this series is 3-1 Boston instead of being tied 2-2? Because the Boston Celtics never stopped believing in themselves.

Yeah, that must be it. Or maybe, just maybe, it's any one of a hundred more substantive reasons. Down the stretch execution. Matchups. Defensive adjustments. Rebounding. But sure, the degree to which the Celtics "believe[d] in themselves" in game four might have been the key factor too. You never know. Hey, nameless Sunday mid-afternoonish ESPN Radio guy, whose actual identity is not revealed by their scheduling webpage: go fuck yourself. You stink.

Excuse Me While I Make Like Rick Reilly

Boy, is my face red right about now. Earlier tonight, I sat down to lampoon this terrible piece of sportswriting I found, but something was wrong. I just couldn't go through with it. Why not? See, as most of our regular readers and those casual readers with a discerning eye may have been able to tell from some past posts we've written, myself and eriz are big Rockies fans. And of course, earlier in the evening I got to watch them play like a bag of ass on baseball's biggest stage. Again. Great, way to show up for the Series, guys. Nicely done. Anyways, I promised myself I wouldn't let my feelings about the end of my team's season affect my ability to blog. I mean, how hard could that be? Bad sportswriting is bad sportswriting, and it needs to be shat on regardless of what's going on in my little world. It's pretty simple. But try as I might, I just couldn't put anything together. Turned out to be a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.

And that's when I realized, Rick Reilly has been right all along- sports are just beautiful, aren't they? I mean, this is going to end up being incredibly lame, indulge me. Let's break down the situation and try to figure out whether or not this makes sense. For starters, I'm 23. I'm probably a liiiiiiiiiiittle too old to get all bummed out over my favorite baseball team losing in the World Series. I also have a lot going on in my life; a wide variety of responsibilities and deadlines and obligations keep my mind occupied pretty much anytime I'm awake. Living in your parents' basement is tougher than you think. Pop Tarts don't grow on trees; I have to go grab a fresh box from the pantry upstairs every couple of days. Furthermore, when it comes to sports, I have at least five other teams in both the college and professional ranks that I follow just as closely as the Rockies. It's not like all my eggs are in one basket. And finally, prior to this season, the Rockies had won a grand total of one playoff game in 14 years of existence. This year they won seven times that, plus their first pennant. Shouldn't that be enough for me to consider the season a flying success regardless of the WS outcome?

Well, enough of all that self-analytical nonsense. The bottom line is, why did tonight's shitbomb of the game (and the three awful shitbombs of games that preceded it) prevent me from doing the one thing I actually enjoy in life? In the end, I think it's probably because sports are so goddamn beautiful. No matter how old you are, what else is going on in your life, how many other teams you follow, or how great a season was- unless they win it all, the day your team has to close up shop and wait for next year can really throw you off your game. But I'm not worried about it. Tomorrow I'll be back. Until then, you're just going to have to make fun of Dayn Perry and Gene Wojceichowski on your own.

(If any of our twelve readers are big Red Sox fans and want to leave an insulting comment because I crap on Boston all the time, let me remind them of three things:

1. Chris W (White Sox), pnoles (White Sox), dan-bob (Reds), and jarrett (Cardinals) don't give a shit about the Rockies. So you can leave them out of it.

2. This whole post is really just sour grapes by me. That should be pretty obvious. Take it for what it is. I mean, I don't really like your team... but meh.

3. A whiny fuckbag of a journalist who regularly references "The Hills" in his columns and is in a fued with DANE COOK of all people speaks for your whole fanbase. I know, it sucks. Deal with it.)

Mychael, You Are Bad For Ball

Good for ball, bad for ball

A look around at what's working and what isn't in the Majors
-or-

Mychael Urban's Literary Offenses

A more accurate title would have been: "My Name is Mychael And Here Are My Feelings". Aside from the obvious misspelling or pointlessly unique deliberatemisspelling of his first name, Mychael has nothing interesting to say. Let's look at some drivel:

Here's how it works: Complete games are Good For Ball. There's nothing like watching a pitcher finish what he starts, mostly because it means he's gone through the same set of hitters three or four times with success, and that's a lot harder to do than you might think.

Okay, okay. Complete games are going down. They have been going down. I know this. But who the hell cares that you think it's bad for ball? I think baseball's as good as it once was, and as good once as it ever was. Sure, a complete game is cool, but that doesn't have much effect on The Game. Complete games are pretty much a statistical afterthought.

Conversely, yanking a pitcher after eight shutout innings because his pitch count is at 115 in a 1-0 game is Bad For Ball. Pitch count, smitch count. Let the man win or lose it on his own.

See the thing is, Mychael, you should take Dusty's relegation to the booth as a sign NOT to take his advice on handling a pitching staff. I am sure Mark Prior is glad that he won or lost those pointless games for the 2004 Cubs On His Own. Also I think this qualifies as a Lunchpail Alert: if you try and leave a game after 115 pitches but you only had the cojones to finish 8 innings, you are a pussy.

Mychael then goes on a rant about soap dispensers. It has nothing to do with baseball. I will spare you his feelings on personal hygiene. Maybe he only wrote that in to proves to his mother (who he emails his column to every day) that he washes his hands when he accidentally pisses on them while aimlessly waving his hand practicing the "y" in his autograph.

Also he praises Verlander's no-no. Honestly. Calling that Good For Ball is such a boring statement to make that I won't even dignify it with a simile.

One of the most tired scenes in baseball is the benches-clearing mill-about-and-do-nothing, but it sure beats a benches-clearing brawl, which is always a possibility when you have 50 grown men in close proximity, each of them a little hacked off about something.

So why not institute a rule similar to the NBA rule that caused so much controversy in this year's Western Conference Finals? Leave the bench and you get suspended.

What's that? Bench-clearings are part of the game, like fighting in hockey? Bullpuck. Beanball wars are part of the game, too, but that doesn't make 'em right. Let the guys on the field handle whatever business they must. Watching seven relievers running in from the bullpen, only to arrive about 40 seconds after the dust has settled is Bad For Ball.

Of course brawls aren't Part of the Game - that's why they're still cool. I don't know if there are notable hockey fights, but the few baseball scuffles that actually make it to blows are legendary. Kyle Farnsworth has made a career out of winning them. Nolan Ryan hammering on Robin Ventura is epic. Pedro Borbon (of old Reds fame) actually bit a Mets cap apart during one. Sure, a lot of the times baseball brawls are just disguised humping and arm-waving, but it's really nothing for you to comment on. The occasional fighting in the sport makes for amusing anecdotes, not for moral posturing.

And the phrase "Bullpuck" is not exactly going to get you into the dictionary, Shakespeare.

The entire Minute Maid Park experience in Houston is worthy of one of these columns, from the Chik-fil-A signage -- "Eat Mor Fowl" -- besmirching the foul poles (Bad For Ball) to the Cranium Cam -- live bobbleheads, anyone? -- on the big screen between innings, it's a smorgasborg for the senses.

The most pleasing entrée, however, is the sight of rookie Hunter Pence digging out a triple off the base of Tal's Hill. Never mind he looks 14 years old and, in the words of Oakland's Nick Swisher, looks "like one of those guys you see in old movies about baseball in the 1940s." This kid can flat play, and he's a breath of fresh air for Houstonians disappointed by their 'Stros this season.

And then there's the name. Hunter Pence. Clearly, he was destined to either play big-league ball or host a show on the Outdoor Life network. Good For Ball.

I feel like Mychael's finally getting to his main point - the subtle distinction between what's Good For Ball and what's Bad For Ball. This sounds eerily similar to the phrase oft heard on this site - "Playing the Game the Right Way". In this case, the Astros' ballpark is Bad for Ball because it's overly commercial and Hunter Pence is Good For Ball because he looks like a baseball player from the old days back before they even invented tv and advertisers still had to have jingles that rhymes. Nick Swisher watches movies where people Play The Game the Right Way. The Astros' organization is obviously not Playing The Game the Right Way.

If having your eyes set at strange angles, then this man is obviously playing the game the right way:

Then he goes back to bitch about brawls again - mentioning the intrateam scuffles that have taken place recently. This violates another cardinal rule of decent journalistic writing: don't repeat yourself. Then, you go on to bitch even more about how ads are Bad for Ball and manners are Good For Ball. Honestly, Mychael. You sound like a illegitimate love child of old-time-bird-dog-scout-man-who-was-on-the-road-a-lot who mated with a secretly lonely Mrs. Cleaver. It's a damn shame Major League Baseball can't find better writers for its flagship site.

Let's Write a Rick Reilly Column

Small people people in wheelchairs poor people teaching lessons to underserved people struggle struggle conquering history and sports as metaphor game of life winning losing how you play the game rudy black people white people red people david eckstein green people people from small towns beating teams from big city fathers and sons sports movies eddie gaedel drawing emotional responses the power of young people cheaters are bad and so are people who don't realize that sports is just part of the big game of life playing catch with your dad i once met a man who lived in a trailer so he could afford LSU season tickets oh wait thats a real story NOT shawn kemp or wilt chamberlain because good sports stars keep their sexual indiscretions hushed - tragic heroes epic heroes stories that resonate in your soul field of dreams its kind of like literature that rednecks can understand i even like soccer because its emotions connect to my soul real stories sometimes make me cry.

sports are just beautiful.