Bill Simmons started watching the 2013 Red Sox in August, and hey, what do you know, a championship! Time to write about them like he had been paying attention all season (Part 2)

Bill was in the middle of telling us how 79-year-old Bill Russell tires easily.  But don't worry, Red Sox fans, you'll be hearing about your team soon enough.  Just need to account for the fact that Bill doesn't know jack fucking dick about baseball and is a huge fairweather Red Sox fan.  Once he gets done telling his story about an athlete from the sport he actually follows, he'll get around to you.

We walked into his library, which was practically sinking under all the books and pictures.

We walked into his kitchen, which was practically sinking under all the pans and dishes.  We walked into his bedroom, which was practically sinking due to the really big bed.  We walked into his basement, and over there, in the left corner, you could see the way the room was sinking into the foundation of the house.  

Fucking terrible writing.

To describe Russell as "well read" would be an understatement. 

There's the mealy-mouthed racism we were waiting for!  I know I was on pins and needles.  He reads books!  Doesn't that surprise you?  And he's SO well spoken.  He's not one of them.

During a bathroom break earlier, I had sneaked in there to peruse his books — if only because you can learn a lot from someone just by their books — 

1) We all know the only reason Simmons was looking was because he desperately hoped that Russell owned a copy of The Book of Basketball

2) Insert joke about what books are in Simmons's house here (I was going to go with Dr. Seuss, but I'm sure you can do better)

and noticed my own basketball tome, which Russell had allegedly read and enjoyed. 

EUREKA

The condition of the book made it seem like someone had read it, so maybe he did. 

Maybe he lent it to Larry Bird, and Bird read it!  Did you know Bird respected Russell and once told a crowd that Russell was good at basketball?  Just another classic Larry Legend moment.

Without him knowing, I signed one of the pages inside and carefully placed it back in the same spot. Now I was pretending that I had never seen his library before.

What an asshole.

"Here, look at this," Bill Russell said.

I hope Russell did the "You've got something on your shirt VWOOP gotcha!" move.

He handed me a framed photo of himself and Obama — taken two years earlier in 2010, when Obama had invited Russell to the White House, given him the Presidential Medal of Freedom and urged the city of Boston to build a statue for him. 

I can't think of a better example of a plea destined to fall upon deaf ears.

"Isn't that something?" he asked me, beaming proudly, looking like me after my daughter 

HEY I HAVE KIDS AND THEY ARE SUPER ZANY

crushes one of her soccer games. Only Obama gets Bill Russell to geek out. 

Terrible writing.

He loved everything about that day. Once upon a time, Russell had given speeches telling his fellow African Americans to keep their eyes on the prize, to never let anyone define them, or keep them down, or tell them they couldn't do something. He wanted them to believe that they didn't have a ceiling, that 40 or 50 years later, one of them could even be president. He made that point in more than one speech. 

Specific examples?  Research?  Context?  Not here, reader.  You're in Grantland now.

Now it was 2012 … and Bill Russell was holding a photo of him and President Barack Obama. Isn't that something? Yes. That's something.

Terrible writing.

We spent the next hour sitting at his kitchen table, with Russell telling us story after story. He kept bringing up his late wife, his third one, who had passed away a few years earlier. It became more and more obvious that he hadn't recovered yet. 

From all of that brutal standing he had to do earlier.

I found myself worrying about him. He's not alone all the time, right? People come to visit him, right? Russell talked about his various road trips, 

Terrible writing.

how sometimes he just packs a bag, climbs into his car and goes. He drives to Los Angeles, Chicago, wherever. He loves driving. Sometimes he'll bring a friend to keep him company.

This is somehow even less interesting than the part of the article I covered in my last post.

Eventually, we started talking about Boston again. I had a good handle on Russell at this point. You get one chance with him and that's that. It's a theme that kept coming up all day. Boston had already used up that one chance, as well as about seven other ones. 

Terrible writing.

How much bitterness did Russell have toward Boston? When the Celtics retired his number in 1972, he skipped the ceremony. No-showed it. Who does that? He made the same point over and over again: His loyalties lay with his Celtics teammates, and Red Auerbach, and Walter Brown. Not the fans, and definitely not the city. He didn't care if he ever went back. Or so he claimed.

Remember that part about him not showing up for his own number retirement ceremony?  Seems pretty legit.  HAHA BUT JOKE'S ON YOU, BILL RUSSELL, YOU WERE LURED BACK AFTER THE PRESIDENT TOLD THE CITY TO MAKE AMENDS AND THEN THEY BUILT YOU A STATUE.  YOUR CONVICTIONS AREN'T SO STRONG AFTER ALL!  This just goes to prove that racism doesn't exist in Boston.

I didn't totally believe him. Deep down, he cares. I think he does, anyway.

Terrible writing.

But that statue was going up whether Bill Russell showed up or not. The city needed it as much as he did. 

I'm pretty sure the city needed it way more than he did, given the way it treated him.

The mayor kept pressuring him, cajoling him, practically begging him to return. Same for Steve Pagliuca, one of the current owners of the Celtics (and one of the people responsible for making the statue happen). Same for Russell's daughter, Karen, and everyone else who Russell trusts in his life. Eventually, the great Bill Russell caved. He agreed to come back to Boston.

The ceremony will happen two days after the Red Sox won another World Series. Russell returns to a different city in every respect. 

Terrible writing.  Every respect?  Every last one?

The Big Dig finished nearly a decade ago, opening up downtown and even extinguishing some of the suffocating traffic.

Traffic Bill probably didn't have to deal with that much, considering he left in 1969.

It's a much happier city now, with a recent run of championships killing off the "woe is us" mentality that had become an identity of sorts (both locally and nationally). 

You know when else they had a run of championships?  In the 1960s, when Russell was there.  I'm not sure he would really have been aware of the insufferable woe is us vibe that permeated the place during the 80s and 90s.

Boston fans don't expect the worst anymore. 

OW-UH FANS AHHHH MO-AH PESSIMISTIC THAN YO-AH FANS!  THEY HAVE INTUITIONS THAT OTHAHS DO NOT!

During the late innings of Game 2 of the ALCS against Detroit, when it looked like the Red Sox offense had a giant salad fork sticking out of it, I found it fascinating that everyone at Fenway kept waiting for the boys to improbably rally even before that improbable rally happened.

Can you believe the stadium didn't just empty out because it was 5-1 in the 7th inning of a playoff game?  Those fans who stuck around in their $400 seats are literally amazing heroes.  And they didn't just stick around--they stuck around AND hoped their team would win, and then the team did exactly that.  It's the most astonishing human accomplishment I have ever heard of, other than the moon landing (if we assume the moon landing actually happened).

Holy dog balls, the self-importance of the fans of this city can barely be described.

It was that kind of season. A different dude with a different beard seemed to come through every time we needed it. Coming off an unhappy 2011 ending (that's an understatement) 

IT'S
NAWT
FAY-UHHHHHHH

That's one of my favorite nights of sports ever, and my favorite team was most certainly not involved in any of the action or fun.

and a catastrophic 2012 season, 

I know I made this joke last time but CHICKEN AND BEER.  NEVER FORGET.  WORSE THAN THE CHALLENGER DISASTER.

the owners and GM Ben Cherington smartly shifted gears and emphasized chemistry over everything else. 

Ah, chemistry.  The favorite worthless narrative of shithead sportswriters everywhere.  If the Red Sox had the exact same group of players who all had the exact same amount of fun, but lost to Tampa in the ALDS, then the problem would have been NOT ENOUGH TEAM CHEMISTRY.  Meanwhile I'm sure their title had nothing to do with their awesome pitching staff and surprisingly potent lineup.  Nah, it was just that the players really liked high fiving each other.

They gravitated toward likable guys who could handle playing in Boston, even severely overpaying one of the league's best teammates (Shane Victorino) 

No one has ever said that about Victorino prior to this October.  Suddenly he has a good playoffs for a championship team and he's Mr. Chemistry.  Sportswriters are the dumbest fucking people on the planet.

because he made more sense for this plan than just about anyone else. Victorino's at-bat music ended up being the rallying cry for 2013: Every time he came up at Fenway, you could hear the first notes of a Bob Marley song, followed by Marley singing, "Don't worry … about a thing," and then 35,000 fans screaming, "CUZ EVERY LITTLE THING … IS GONNA BE ALL RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!"

Percentage this had to do with Boston's title: fucking Z fucking E fucking R fucking fuckity fuck fuck O.

That's all you needed to know about the 2013 Red Sox. 

What he means here, and in everything that follows, is "This is pretty much all I know about the 2013 Red Sox, because I didn't pay attention to them until August.  Hey did you know Bill Russell likes Eggo waffles?  His freezer is full of them."

For the first four months, nobody expected them to win the World Series — 

You're right, they were only in first place on May 1, June 1, and July 1 (best record in the AL at that time), but I agree--the 2013 Red Sox were truly the little engine that could.  With their scant $158MM payroll (4th highest in baseball) and loads of on-field success throughout the season, who could have seen a deep playoff run coming?

we were just happy to have a likable Red Sox team again. 

THE 2012 RED SOX WERE NAWT FUN!  BY WHICH I MEAN THEY DID NAWT MAKE THE PLAYOFFS!

Go eat a fucking knife, Bill.  You're the worst.

Bill Simmons started watching the 2013 Red Sox in August, and hey, what do you know, a championship! Time to write about them like he had been paying attention all season (Part 1)

This article is actually an expose on Big Papi, rather than the 2013 Red Sox as a whole.  But they're one and the same for our (OW-UH) purposes.  And since Bill couldn't be bothered to watch the 2012 Red Sox after it became clear by early summer that they were not going to be the Best Team Ever, nor was he able to stomach the 2013 Red Sox until most of the way through the season when it became clear they would make the playoffs, he begins with 4,000 words about something exactly like Big Papi and the Red Sox: Bill Russell.

Tomorrow afternoon in Boston, Massachusetts, the great Bill Russell finally gets his own statue.

I'm just going to get this out of the way early and not go back to it (unless Bill does something really super terrible later on): Boston is a racist city that actively disliked Russell while he was leading the Celtics to like 12 championships in 13 years or whatever it was.  Racism.  Boston.  Potato.  Poe-tah-toe.  It still makes me laugh even though it's so sad.  But I don't want to go back to the well for that kind of joke 50 times throughout the course of this post, so that'll be it for now.

Details were scarce until recently. We know the statue will be unveiled in City Hall Plaza, that it stands about eight feet tall, that a talented local artist named Ann Hirsch created it.

WE KNOW THE FACKIN' C'S LET US DOWN YET AGAIN LAST YE-AH AND HAVE NOW GAWN FIVE SEASONS WITHOUT WINNING A TITLE; IT'S ALMOST TO MUCH TO BEH-AHHHHHHHHHHH.  I AM AN NBA AWWWWWW-PHAN UNTIL FAHTHAH NOTICE.

We know President Obama passed through Boston on Wednesday and caught an early glimpse. We know Russell and his family will attend the ceremony — no small feat, because Russell is wired like a Sicilian mafia boss. He remembers every slight, every offense, every ill word, everything. Boston let him down for good a long time ago.

At least Bill acknowledges it.

He gave up on Boston. Gave up on the city. Gave up on the people. Bill Russell has spent the past four decades living in Seattle, on Mercer Island, about as far from Boston as you can get without falling into the Pacific Ocean.

When I spent the day with Russell last November, 

NO BIG DEAL

he maintained that he didn't care about Boston anymore. 

I think moving to Seattle is a pretty good hint that he's not bluffing.

Little clues throughout our conversation said otherwise. He remembered everyone mistakenly assuming that a budding Celtics dynasty would come to a halt in 1963, when Bob Cousy retired, as if the Cooz was the reason for those first six titles. He remembered playing more than one Game 7 in a Boston Garden that was only 70 percent full, and he definitely remembered Bobby Orr's Bruins selling out games in December and January. He remembered the reaction after Red Auerbach named Russell as his coaching successor, as if nobody could believe that a black guy — a black guy — could tell a bunch of white people what to do. He remembered the idiots who wrecked his new house, destroyed his trophies and defecated on his walls, because how would anyone ever forget something like that? He definitely remembered how Boston fans deified Larry Bird, how they put him on a pedestal for winning eight fewer titles than Russell did.

It seems Bill is trying to get into a semantics argument and say that "still being really angry at a city that never appreciated his greatness because of his skin color" is different than not caring.  You and I, since we have brains, know that you can be furious about something but not really, truly care about it.  You can just leave it behind and let it fade away.  Which sounds exactly like what Russell was doing, except that it's harder for him to forget all those things than it is for you and I to forget that the coach cut us from the 9th grade baseball team, because 1) as Bill just said, Russell is wired like a crazy person and 2) he was disrespected because of the way he was born; you and I were disrespected (read: told by the universe to give up) because we sucked at baseball.

These moments kept coming up, and they kept coming up, and by the end of it, I just assumed that Bill Russell would never return to Boston. That he would live the rest of his life and die in Seattle, and that would be it. 

And all they had to do to lure him back for a few days was PUT UP A FUCKING STATUE OF HIM.  What a faker that Russell is--always pretending like he was deeply hurt by racism!

We spent the first chunk of our interview in Russell's basement, with the six-time MVP standing in front of his trophy case and telling stories about everything inside it. A few months earlier, he had undergone a heart procedure and was still recovering from it. Someone close to him warned us, "Make sure he doesn't stand for too long — he's still a little weak."  Like a dummy, I became so enthralled with our conversation that I kept him standing for 90 solid minutes. 

Riveting journalism.  "I interviewed Bill Russell.  He was standing.  Someone told me to make sure he didn't stand too much.  Later, we sat."

I can remember exactly where we were — the left corner of his basement,

I FEEL LIKE I'M THERE!  Also, what the fuck is the "left corner" of a room?  Is Russell's house in a side scrolling video game?

at the tail end of a wall covered with framed photos, magazine covers and newspaper clippings. Russell had framed a Boston Herald article from June 1986, right after Bird won his third title — the summer when Larry Legend could have announced that he was walking across the Charles River and 50,000 locals would have scurried down there to witness it — 

OW-UH FANS AHHHH MO-AH GULLIBLE THAN YO-AH FANS!

when many believed that Bird was the greatest basketball player ever. 

I said I wouldn't do more racism jokes.  I said I wouldn't do more racism jokes.  /grits teeth

You know who disagreed with that argument? Larry Joe Bird. He maintained that Bill Russell was the best, that the 11 rings spoke for themselves. The headline of the piece said something like "Bird: Russell Still the Best." If you think it doesn't mean anything that Russell framed this article and put it in his basement, then you don't know anything about Bill Russell.

And since you've never met him and stood with him for a medium amount of time, you definitely don't know him like I do!  Hey did I mention I got to meet Bird at one point too?

And as we were talking about it, suddenly, his eyes went blank.

A FAKE FORGETFUL blank.

I was standing there looking up at Russell — remember, he towers over me by eight inches — 

Still more beautiful and expository writing.  Bill Russell is tall.  Also a nice humblebrag tucked in there; just so you know, Bill is over six feet.  AND HE PLAYS PICKUP BASKETBALL STILL HIS KIDS ARE CRAZY KOBE BRYANT USED STEROIDS EFF YOU MODE!

waiting for his next sentence to come. We had a camera crew watching us from a few feet away, along with a few other selected guests. 

Peter King was there, for some reason, asking Russell what his favorite Sam Adams seasonal was.

I thought Russell had dramatically paused before his next point, eventually realizing that he couldn't get his next breath. I can still see his face — dark and weathered, white beard, whiskers popping from the sides like snowflakes. I can still see his blank eyes. I remember panicking about 1.8 seconds before anyone else started to panic. Oh my god. We killed Bill Russell. Someone frantically pulled over a tall stool. We urged him to sit down. Russell asked for a minute. We stood there in silence, watching one of the greatest athletes who ever lived now struggling to breathe. Someone gave him a bottle of water and that helped.

Bill Russell is 79.  Everyone knows this (NO ONE DENIES IT!).  This is not even slightly interesting, and I would be shocked if Bill wasn't embellishing the amount of drama in the moment.  The guy is old; old people get tired just from watching TV, let alone talking.  Please, continue this riveting tale.  What happened next?  Did you continue the interview?

We decided to change locations, moving upstairs into Russell's living room, 

So, how about David Ortiz and those 2013 Red Sox?  What a playoff run.

where we had arranged one of those traditional interview setups with two chairs facing each other. Russell made his way up the stairs — slowly, painstakingly, to the point where you could feel every step — 

Copy and paste my analysis from above.  Also, that's truly horrendous writing.

before finding his chair and sitting down. The camera crew hustled to turn on the lights and set everything else up, 

And to turn on their cameras and set up the sound and stuff!  It was neat!  This is turning into a long-winded 2nd grader's story about a trip to the zoo, only less interesting.

and now Russell and I were just looking at each other. I was concerned. Really, really concerned. Russell was staring at me with glassy eyes. He was in another place. Just concentrating on his breaths. 

HOLY SHIT BECAUSE HE'S OLD.  HAVE YOU EVER SPENT TIME WITH AN OLD PERSON BEFORE

The room was dead silent, like a church, with everyone else fretting and talking in hushed-beyond-hushed tones. His friend Charlie kept telling us, "He's fine, just give him a minute, he's fine."

And then … BOOM! Bill Russell was fine. He sprang back to life. "I'm OK," he said, unleashing his trademark laugh, and I can still feel my own heart racing happily after he said it. 

I considered doing that thing that I often do with TMQ writing where I cut a paragraph off midsentence and fast forward to the next point, but I wanted to firmly establish for you how horrendous this article is.  So far, in like 1500 words, we have 1) learned that Simmons did an interview with Bill Russell 2) learned that one part of the interview involved Larry Bird praising Bill (what a shock that that made it into the article) and 3) had Simmons tell us what walking around a house with a 79 year old is like.  Jesus H.

We spent the next 90 minutes talking about his life. The interview ended and everyone shook hands. 

But what about Charlie?  You can't just bring in a new character and then leave us hanging!

Our crew started packing up. I sat down at Russell's kitchen table with my friend Hirschy, the biggest basketball fan I know, 

And we agreed that the Thunder at 7/1 to win the title this year is WAY TOO HIGH.  THANKS FOR THE FREE MONEY, VEGAS.

as well as someone who had helped arrange the entire day. This wasn't just one of the highlights of our careers; this was one of the highlights of our lives. We were trying to act like adults. We were trying to remain professional. 

Just take about 5 semesters of high school level English composition classes and you might get there one day.

We were fighting off the urge to repeatedly high-five each other while screaming "YES!!!!" and "WE DID IT!" A three-hour hang in Bill Russell's house? With Russell talking about anything and everything?

We thought he'd schedule the interview, invite us in, and then only want to talk about NASCAR!

"Where's Bill?"

Russell's voice.

"Where's Bill?"

Me?

WHO'S ON FIRST LOL

I stood up.

"Come here. I want to show you something," Bill Russell said.

"It's the door.  Beat it, you fucking moron."

Simmons: Still Putting Minimal Effort Into His Writing, Still a Dipshit

Jack from Swarthmore, Pa., e-mailed Wednesday just to say, "69 days!

What's that you say? The people are demanding more mindless bullshit? Well, I hope they're also demanding a bunch of unoriginal "Boston is full of racists" jokes from me. Because they're about to get both.

Also- heh heh. Sixty nine. Am I right? You know what I'm getting at!

69 days since your last mailbag!

Wait, how many? 69? 696969696969? Mmmmmmmm-hmmmmmm.

You're killin' me! For god sakes, I went through finals without a fresh mailbag to sink my teeth into.

Simmons remains eminently popular with his base: retarded 19 year-olds attending snobby schools in the northeast.

Over 1,500 hours of mailbag-less time.

How are we supposed to survive without Bill's opinion on the current season of "Lost?"

Quite frankly I've stayed awake many a night pondering my mailbag future.

Quite frankly, I hope you get run over by a cement mixer.

So please for me and the rest of your readers -- write another mailbag!"

I promise I'll write you a saccharine-sweet email if you do!

Fine, fine, fine.

An excuse not to write a real column? Twist my arm.

As always, these are actual e-mails from actual readers.

Q: I am a broke college student

Read: polysci major at Boston College whose parents have threatened to take back the Lexus and cut the monthly stipend back to $500.

who recently spent two weeks of beer money for a bleacher ticket for A-Rod's first Fenway game just so I could chant "A-Roid" with everyone else.

Ahhh. A-"Roid." I see what you did there.

Now they're saying he could be out for two to four months, and I won't be living here when he finally comes to Boston.

You never know when he'll be back, either. Damn you and your unpredictable scheduling, MLB.

Can you please rank this on the Levels of Losing for me?
-- Sean P., Boston

By taking the time to write this email, you've pretty much lost at life.

SG: The levels of losing? Can't you see the big picture here? We haven't seen the Karma Police work this quickly since Swayze's sleazy buddy got impaled on the broken glass in "Ghost."

Hey- remember the 80s?

Either A-Rod needs surgery, or he's going to play in pain all season. In fact, I demand that Fenway plays "Karma Police" for A-Rod's first at-bat.

And the 90s? Bill does!

Although we won't hear it because everyone will be singing "A-Roid! A-Roid!"

He's totally going to hear us, and there's nothing he can do about it. THE FENWAY FAITHFUL GET THE LAST LAUGH AGAIN.

Holy hell am I excited for the 2009 baseball season.

You mean, holy hell am I excited for the Yankees and Red Sox games of the 2009 baseball season. What? There's a whole other league out there, which contains neither the Yankees nor the Red Sox? Fuck 'em.

Q: This is a little bit closely related to your holiday gifts column only with a spin: How about sponsoring Mike Dunleavy's page on basketball-reference.com and making a sarcastic comment about him on it? Hey, its only 10 bucks.
-- Bilal, Boston

SG: Done and done. What's sad is I spent a solid 45 minutes crafting the right testimonial before finally settling on what I wrote.

ONLY 45 minutes, you say? (Go click on it, everyone.) Yup. This is the razor-sharp wit of The Sports Guy. That Jimmy Kimmel is a lucky, lucky man to have talent like this backing him up.

Q: Too bad you decided not to have break-up sex with the Boston Bruins this year, isn't it? It's like an ex-girlfriend who switched to contacts from glasses, let her hair grow out and discovered aerobics. Now she's the hot girl at the bar.
-- Alex, D.C.

SG: Only I'm still taking medication for the VD she gave me. I'll be back for the playoffs. I always get sucked back in for the playoffs. Too many memories. The truth is, the only reason the Bruins became competitive again is because the salary cap evened the odds for Jeremy "The Grinch" Jacobs. Nobody can outspend him anymore. The Bruins don't care about their fans any more than they did during the first 24 years of my life -- when they were bending my ankles back over my head more times than a Pilates instructor.

Wow, he's like the vulgar Rick Reilly.

Their fans deserve better regardless how this season turns out. As I have said a million times, as soon as the Grinch sells the team, they have me back 365 days a year. And not a moment sooner.

It's cute how he pretends he never totally disowned them. (Read the first mini-paragraph here) I mean, they're good again! What do you want him to do? NOT jump back on the bandwagon? Pretend like he didn't originally swear them off not because of some bullshit about the owner, but because they were bad for a few years in a row?

Q: Do you think the relationship between Rocky and Apollo could be considered the original bromance?
-- Kevin McB, Oakland, N.J.

SG: No way. The original bromance was Lewis and Clark.

This is why he makes the big bucks. He also goes on to list off about 75 other famous alleged bromances. Conspicuously absent from that list: anyone from Boston and a black person.

Q: I recently watched "Almost Famous" for what has to be the 20th time, and it seems like every time I've watched it, the movie was better than the previous time. It got me thinking about other movies where this applies, and my short list included "Pulp Fiction," "Shawshank," and "The Usual Suspects." I feel like there has to be some sort of name for this phenomena, and of course, I have come to you for guidance.
-- Bhavin, Philadelphia

Because I am too fucking stupid to formulate my own opinions about this very subjective and reasonably simple question.

SG: I'd go with a wine reference even though it doesn't totally work. Most movies are like chardonnays or pinot noirs -- you can drink them right away or any time within a span of 10 years. Many cabernets, Bordeaux and Barolos hold their vintage really well and you can actually enjoy them for as along as 10-20 years. Kinda like "Midnight Run" or "Hoosiers."

AND TEEN WOLF! AND KARATE KID! DANIEL-SAN AND MR. MIYAGI HAD A BROMANCE!

Q: Can you think of the sports equivalent of the spouses of buddies whose Facebook friend-request you accepted who constantly update their status on the topic of taking care of their kids? Like "Jenn is watching her little ones nap" and "Sarah is playing 'Bob the Builder' with her kids! Yay!" As a 28-year-old unmarried man, it's not that I don't appreciate females or motherhood, it's just that I don't care. For the same reason that I don't update my status with "Kully just put on jock itch cream."
-- Kully, Guangzhou, China

SG: Wouldn't the sports equivalent be like ending up with an undesirable throw-in for an NBA trade (aka Marcus Banks)? The more interesting angle for me is how Twitter and Facebook reflect where our writing is going thanks to the Internet. In 15 years, writing went from "reflecting on what happened and putting together some coherent thoughts" to "reflecting on what happened as quickly as possible" to "reflecting on what's happening as it's happening" to "here are my half-baked thoughts about absolutely anything and I'm not even going to attempt to entertain you," or as I like to call it, Twitter/Facebook Syndrome. Do my friends REALLY CARE if I send out an update, "Bill is flying on an airplane finishing a mailbag right now?" (Which is true, by the way.) I just don't think they would. I certainly wouldn't. That's why I refuse to use Twitter.

Thank goodness. At least someone in the sports journalism world is maintaining some standards regarding the way he writes. It's been at least two weeks since he wrote a column comparing the Bird-era Celtics to the current Celtics by using a grading scale based on "The Hills," and concluding the former were better because they had more white guys.

Q: I listened to your spot on Adam Carolla's new podcast, and for the first time ever you swore and it wasn't bleeped out. It was surreal, and I gotta say I'm developing a taste for it, Simmons. I'm afraid I won't be able to go back to the genteel Sports Guy. It's like your long-term girlfriend, who's really conservative in bed, gets really drunk one night and she unexpectedly turns into an animal. How can you go back? How?!
-- Max R., Sydney

Tee hee! Bad words!

SG: Just wait until my book comes out! Lots of swears and even a few completely inappropriate topics handled without any diplomacy whatsoever.

I couldn't possibly be less titillated. What? A book featuring an opinionated idiot talking about "inappropriate" topics using swear words? What's next, porn on the internet?

Q: When De Niro gets off the highway to kill Waingro at the hotel in "Heat": The whole movie you want De Niro to kill Waingro, but you don't want De Niro to go back when he's home free with Judge Amy. Is there a more ambivalent occurrence of emotions in any movie?
-- Alex, Syracuse, N.Y.

Hey, does anyone out there want to hear Bill break down "Heat" again? I sure hope so.

[Simmons' opinion omitted]

Q: In Matt Cassel's first news conference with the Chiefs, someone asked Cassel if he was looking forward to meeting Bernard Pollard. Shouldn't he immediately take some of his new money and buy Pollard a new car? The best full circle moment is the fact Cassel would still be a nobody if it weren't for the Chiefs and now he is playing for them. GOD, I LOVE THE NFL!
-- David, Elon, N.C.

SG: I'll go one further -- imagine if we learned Cassel offered Pollard $3 million to take out Brady's knee in Week 1? Would that be one of the five biggest scandals in sports history?

1. Black Sox (to his credit, mentioned by Bill)
2. College basketball point shaving (also mentioned by Bill)
3. Steroids in baseball/the Olympics/pretty much every sport
4. Tim Donaghy
5. Pete Rose

So, no. Especially when this imaginary situation involves something so incredibly difficult to do. You can hit a QB in the knees 100 times and not do what Pollard did to Brady once. It's not like, even if this had happened, Pollard could just up and guarantee that he would end Brady's season. I'm really doing far too much to dignify this scenario by writing four sentences about it.

Q: I listened to your Monday podcast and was interested in your "Kansas City Theory." I thought that a good example of these things being cyclical was Cleveland in 2007. Both the Browns and Indians had unusually successful seasons when compared to their normal vomit-inducing play. If you add this with the Cavaliers' play in the LeBron Era, it's hard for anyone to deny that this theory bears at least some merit.
-- Brad H., New York

For those who are unfamiliar, the gist of this theory is basically that sometimes multiple teams from the same city all do well at the same time. Genius! What brilliance! It's got to be attributable to some bullshit Bill made up, rather than just random statistical chance.

SG: See? It happens! Some other good examples: the '84 Tigers (paved the way for the "Bad Boy" Pistons, the Barry Sanders Era and the Steve Yzerman Era); the '01 Pats (the '04 Red Sox and '08 Celts, as well as two more Pats titles); Chicago in the mid-'80s (the '83 White Sox, '84 Cubs, '85 Bears and the Jordan Era); Seattle in the mid-'90s (Sonics and Mariners); Pittsburgh in the late-'70s (Steelers and Pirates); Cincy in the late '80s ('89 Bengals, '90 Reds); Boston in the mid-'80s ('85 Pats, '86 Celts, '86 Red Sox); New York in the late-'90s ('98-'99-'00 Yanks, '00 Mets, '99 Knicks; '00 Giants); and L.A. in the late-'80s ('88 Dodgers, '87-'88 Lakers, '89 Raiders). There is ample evidence that a city can catch fire like a hot blackjack table. Just remember we had this conversation when they're calling it "The Year of K.C." in seven months.

See????!?!? That proves it!

Q: Let's say you are at LAX and you are about to board your flight, but then you notice one of the cast members from "Lost" on the same plane. Do you still get on that flight?
-- Brian, Richmond, Va.

THERE'S your "Lost" question. The Big Lead approves.

Q: I was just looking over previous mailbags and came across your prediction of Olivia Wilde becoming a bigger, more relevant star than Mischa Barton within five years. This is uncanny. I shall never doubt you! Any other bold predictions?
-- Vinit, Winnipeg

Yeah, he was really going out on a limb with that one. I mean, everyone and their brother was convinced that Barton had unlimited talent and was due for a multi-Oscar career. How bold of Bill to predict that her career would flop after she left "The O.C."

SG: I have 10 for you, other than the one from last Friday that the 2011-12 NBA season will be canceled by a lockout. First, Jay Leno will be hosting "The Tonight Show" again by September 2010.

Possible. Who cares.

Second, the words "Michael Phelps" and "rehab" will appear in the same sentence.

Wrong. At least, wrong for the next, say, 20 years.

Third, at the end of the NBA Finals in June, one of the happy players will yelp happily to Michele Tafoya, "We goin' to see Oh-baaaaaaaa-maaaaaaaaaaaa!" exactly how I just wrote it.

LOL, black people talk funny! That's why people from Boston hate them so much- Bostonites are supposed to have a monopoly on that.

Fourth, America will turn against Judd Apatow.

Given that we haven't yet turned on Michael Bay or Brett Ratner, I really don't see this happening.

Fifth, they're going to figure out a way to retroactively test all the Olympic urine samples from the '70s, '80s and '90s, and that will become the next gigantic sports scandal that dominates your life (and not in a good way).

Wrong.

Sixth, Mike and the Mad Dog will be back together in time for Opening Day 2011.

Possible. Who gives a shit though.

Seventh, the Detroit Tigers will have a fire sale for their players starting in June that will rival anything the Marlins ever did.

In order to have a fire sale, you must have valuable players with whom you are willing to part. So Cabrera, Verlander, and Granderson are out since the team isn't trading them. Similarly, guys like Guillen, Thames, Sheffield, and Ordonez really don't have much value left. But when the Tigers ship Placido Polanco and Brandon Inge out of town... you heard it from Bill first.

Eighth, Howard Stern, David Letterman and Bruce Springsteen will all retire within three months of one another, it will happen within the next 30 months, and all three of them will do it quietly without fanfare. So, there you go.

A prediction so obscure that I won't bother criticizing it. Could happen, I guess.

Q: I've written many times and I am pretty sure you have never looked at my e-mails. But in all seriousness, I like the podcasts even more than the columns. I was introduced to you five years ago when I entered college by my first roommate.

At Brown.

Never listened to a podcast 'til my senior season.

On the lax team!

Now I love them because they drown out the voice of my wife.
-- Charlie, Endicott, N.Y.

Oh man, married life isn't all it's cracked up to be, is it? Harf harf harf harf! I once saw a sitcom about that very topic! Bill, your thoughts:

SG: That was the first installment of a new mailbag feature tentatively called "Fellas, Don't Get Married." I have high hopes for this one.

Therrrrrrre we go.

Q: Thanks for making me choke up at work with the column about your dog. I decided to move The Dooze immediately into my greatest dog rankings, just ahead of the dog from "Amityville Horror" that saved the dad from falling into the gate of hell. Powerful column. Thanks.
-- Andy, Decatur, Texas

I didn't rip on this column at the time it was written because I figure it was super-low hanging fruit. But really, come-fucking-on. Holy Jesus balls. Your dog died of old age? What a horrible, horrible hand fate has dealt you. Surely that warrants a 12,000 word column. You're a sportswriter, cocklips. Write about sports. I'd rather read five more columns about the 2007 Patriots than one more sentence about Bill's personal life and its mundane tragedies.

SG: ...even my wife would admit The Dooze didn't top the "Amityville Horror" dog. I mean, we're talking about a black lab rescuing a master from the gates of hell here. The Dooze only would have toyed with the gates of hell if a tennis ball rolled near it. I still have the "Amityville Horror" dog ranked first, the Dooze second, Hooch third, Scooby-Doo fourth, Marley fifth, Cujo sixth (just because he came soooooooo close to mauling the annoying little kid from "Who's the Boss?"), Dino Flintstone seventh … and Paris Hilton's chihuahua last.

TOPICAL! How about that Octomom, huh?

One more note: Four of the five greatest sports movies of all time are "Hoosiers," "Field of Dreams," "Rocky" and "The Natural" in some order. The fifth is up for debate. Just make sure those four are included.

Only Bill's opinions on movies count. Yours is wrong. (See Jack's post below.)

It cannot be argued or debated from the standpoint of quality, originality, rewatchability, likability and chill scenes.

What makes for a good movie is now objective, not subjective.

What's interesting is that THREE of those movies undeniably have racist undertones: "Hoosiers," "Rocky" and "Field of Dreams." The first two revolve around a white underdog toppling an invincible black champ;

The kind of movie people from Boston can really get behind.

the third completely ignored a half-century of indefensible prejudice against minorities in Major League Baseball. Even worse, I loved all three movies for years and years and would watch any of them right now if they came on. Does this mean I should be writing this column with a white hood on? I can't come to grips with this.

It sounds like you're pretty close. It's a rare moment of self-awareness for Bill.

Q: I'm a 30-year-old ex-college athlete who likes rare steaks and fake breasts. I just read your Dooze column and had to disappear into the bathroom at work so my co-workers would not see me crying. Damn you.
-- Dave, Philadelphia

Pretty weird how Bill's editors keep making him print these congratulatory emails, huh? Yeah, if he were choosing the emails himself, it would be pretty fucking lame of him to keep choosing ones like this. Good thing it's not him doing that choosing though. Yeah, it's definitely someone else.

Q: We've all seen "Cast Away" and, of course, remember the emotional scene as Wilson the Volleyball floats away from Tom Hanks in the middle of the ocean. It's time to admit to ourselves those two were more than just friends. I mean come on … four years on an island together … no female or any other sexual outlet around. Hanks did the deed with the Volleyball and probably regularly.
-- Carl F., Merrimack, N.H.

SG: Yup, these are my readers.

Who may or may not be funnier than Simmons himself. Hard to say. Is it possible for all of them (as well as Simmons himself) to simultaneously contract kidney failure? If only.