Old Man Holden made me do it

Thank you for reminding me of the existence of these wonderful ads, and for opening the door to an actual football related posting on IVskins.


Once again my old theory is proven:
I love Chris Cooley

The dirtiest jerseys

Here are some the tackiest articles of clothing willingly donned by grown men in my lifetime.
I tried to stay away from third jerseys, because third jerseys almost always suck, unless they're vintage and possibly taken from this list.

The Brownies - you all knew this was coming.
The Houston Astros - did Disco Stu just vomit?


The Philadelphia Phillies - There are any number of sports teams who used the powder blue in the 70s and 80s, but that fucking P is classic win.


The L.A. Kings - call this the Charlie Simmer special: Mark II (Mark I is the mo')

Minnesota Wild - the colour scheme isn't that dirty, but it's all about the large cats with trees growing on their faces and the moon for ears.The Whale - <3
Everything...

ever worn...
by the Vancouver Canucks

Some can blame bad luck, some can claim they were robbed...

Sweden can only claim that Tommy Salo is fucking horrible

The real reason the Eagles picked up Michael Vick

Meet the Philadelphia Eagles' new defensive ends

These two were obviously a package deal with Vick. That being said, they'd better be good, because we all know how much the fans in Philly love their... er... "mobile" quarterbacks.

I hate Pierre McGuire

The author actually wrote most of this a long time ago to post on an anti-Pierre Facebook group. Here are some reasons to hate TSN "personality" Pierre McGuire.

because he acts like he's this fucking primo coach when he has a lifetime record of 23-37-7

because between overtimes in a playoff game, he actually asserted that "this is when you want your star players to step up"

because he's a disgrace to the WHALE

because he randomly decided to shit on malkin during the wjc for not back checking... fuck pierre how many 18 and 19 year old forwards are good back checkers?

because "when this guy plays, tsn stands for the sidney network!!!" ...fuck off

because he's a senator (94-96)

the monster of the game... pierre you're such a cock. ovechkin could have four goals in the game and it'll all be thanks to the physical play of whichever canadian guy you happened to jack off to in the last u-20 tournament. seriuously man, what's up with that? aren't you like 50?

if he has a particularly serious hard-on for a player (examples: crosby, phaneuf, any staal brother) he'll just randomly mention them during any game, even when they're not playing

not to continue to harp on the crosby thing, but come on pierre. since your livlihood depends on continued fan interest in the nhl how about not selling the league as a one trick pony? especially when that one trick is the third best player. on his team.

do you detect a bit of a double-entendre when he talks about a player's "active stick"?

DOUBLE DION... the author is actually getting pissed off writing this. you're a total fucking sack-jones pierre, i fucking hate you so much. clown dick.

this guy is such a stiff, darren fucking pang should be on the a-crew.

Marillion Weekend - The Shows

Night 1 at Marillion Weekend 2009. The author watched this show from the mezzanine. This was the one night where we knew pretty much exactly what was going to be played. The band first performed their 1989 album Season's End in its entirety. Right from the opening number "The King of Sunset Town" the musicianship was really on this night, though there were some issues from those on the floor with the sound quality. Also the author's cousins had some trouble with their view being blocked by a tall chap who they claimed looked like Xerxes from the film 300. h highlit the first set with his vocals on "Berlin" and "The Space".
The second set consisted entirely of material off of Marillion's latest album "Happiness is the Road". Included was "The Man From the Planet Marzipan", which is an amazing song but hearing it always manages to enrage the author, as marzipan is, as all reasonable human beings know, just so very nasty. Seriously, why couldn't they call it "The Man From the Planet Caramel Nougat". The second setlist also featured some amusing costume decisions, as h decided to wear a white robe, which made him look like an alter boy... which was pretty creepy as Steve Rothery had a black on black suit which made him kind of look like a minister.
Due to a lot of this material being new to the author, and the fact that the author didn't think of keeping track till the next night, this was the only show for which BIV will not be providing a (possibly accurate) setlist. However, rest assured that the evening was capped off by a McDonalds run, headlined by some chick leaning over the counter showing off her amazing ass for all of her fellow McPatrons.


Night 2 featured a pretty interesting idea which worked out extremely well. The band worked backwards in their catalogue, performing a song from every year since h joined the band. One great thing about this set is it gave the band an opportunity to play some songs that they don't play very often, making once again for a couple of notables that the author had never seen performed live.
The author scrambled down into the main standing area for the second night, which turned out to be a fantastic move. The fans were in full form for this one, particularly from the point that the band rolled into the 2001 entry "When I Meet God". Two things of note happened in during this number. First of all, the author first noticed the sound quality issues on the low end were cleared up (there was significant rattle earlier in the show), and second of all, the guitar solo was absolutely nailed by Steve Rothery, and the normally reserved guitarist wore an incredibly smug grin, because he fucking knew it.
After the "1996" (1995) song and consistent fan favourite "Afraid of Sunlight" there was one of those random and beautiful audience experiences. The band couldn't start their next song because the audience just wouldn't stop cheering. And it got louder, and louder. It was the middle of the set, we weren't begging for an encore, there were no crowd pleasing cliches from the band ("we thought they knew how to rock in Shelbyville, but nobody rocks like MONTREAL!!!"), it was just 700 to 800 people going fucking bananas (actually the author was reminded of Wendel's Last Stand for the Leafs, as described by DGB). The band had to stand and take their applause like it was the end of the show. Eventually things calmed down, and h declared, "Now I know I'm in Montreal".
Of course, the band wouldn't let up. The aptly-titled "Out of This World" was the follow-up, and the author completely lost his self control for the remainder of the show, which went beyond 1990 and directly into some rarely-played Fish-era material, namely "Slainte Mhath" and "Garden Party" (Ian Mosley fucking killed the drums on the former).
h told us that night 3 will be even better, to which Pete Trewavas quipped "no it won't". The latter claim is far more plausible, but with these guys you never know.

(possibly accurate) setlist - night 2
2008 - this train is my life
2007 - somewhere else
2006 - real tears for sale
2004 - the damage
2003 - genie
2002 - fantastic place
2001 - when i meet god
2000 - map of the world
1999 - legacy
1998 - cathedral wall
1997 - estonia
1996 - afraid of sunlight
-----fans-----
1995 - out of this world
1994 - the great escape
-----encore 1-----
1992 - no one can
1991 - the party
-----encore 2-----
1990 - cover my eyes
1987 - slainte mhath
1983 - garden party


Night 3 proved to be damn near as good, and may have been even better had there not been some stage monitor issues. It was another great idea by the boys, who decided to play their "shortest set ever" at 10 songs. The concert lasted 2 1/2 hours. They pulled off the long and complex numbers amazingly well for the most part, and somehow managed to salvage a stellar performance out of the clusterfuck that occured during "This Strange Engine". First h's cricket bat (it's a cricket bat that plays little samples) failed. He gave it to the roadie. Then it still didn't work. When the roadie went to hand it back the second time, h decided to hell with the cricket bat and sat down to play the piano instead. The piano didn't work. So h just sat down in front of the drums for a while. Then the vocals came back in, so he sang for a bit, until he was cut off by a premature keyboard solo by Mark Kelly, who had had monitor issues all night and was going by visual cues. So h decided "fuck this, ima go crowd surf for a while". That took a little while so there was some additional soloing by Kelly and Rothery. Then with the crowd buzzing, and after everyone had a good laugh the band slaughtered the final "Blue Pain" section of the song.
There was also another epic crowd noise moment, after "Ocean Cloud" was over, the band once again couldn't start their next song because the crowd wouldn't settle down. They were able to continue their set only after settling the crowd down with a little Brokeback-themed country music. Then they dedicated the next number to the gay people in the audience as compensation for the cheap shot. The evening also included the author correctly pointing out the Xerxes dude from night 1. The band ended the show with the ever-awesome "Neverland", and we the crowd were left, total strangers bonded by witnessing something special, bound as part of a community, because for us that is a large part of what being a Marillion fan means.
Thank you Marillion for the best weekend ever.

(possibly accurate) setlist - night 3
a few words for the dead
this town/100 nights
this is the 21st century
ocean cloud
-----fans-----
-----gay country-----
if my heart were a ball it would roll uphill
interior lulu
kayleigh/lavender/heart of lothian
the invisible man
this strange engine
neverland


Cast of Players
vocals, piano, stage antics - h
keyboards, samples, beer - Mark Kelly
drums, fags, not giving a fuck - Ian Mosley
guitars, refusing to sing - Steve Rothery
bass, smart ass comments - Pete Trewavas

All photos by Terry Blake

Marillion Weekend - Prelude

Marillion Weekend Canada 2009. Oh. Fuck. Yes. If you don't know Marillion, congratulations. You are a part of the majority. In fact, Sound on Sound once described the band as "the best kept secret in the music industry". Anyways, how about a little bit about the band...

Marillion were formed in the late Mezozoic era (the late 70's), so it's fair to say that they've been around for a long time. Their music can best be described as progressive rock, but that's not really the point. This is a group that has always done things their own way, and has always defied the odds. They peaked, as most bands do, with their third album, 1985's Misplaced Childhood, a concept album featuring a series of suites interlaced with spoken word passages, released at a time when Madonna and WHAM! topped the charts.

In 1988 the Marillion's front man and lyricist Fish left the group, which for many observers marked the end of the band. But, in what would become a common theme over the years Marillion soldiered on, hiring a new singer, Steve Hogarth AKA h. After proving to their fans that Marillion wouldn't go away with two strong albums, Marillion did what very few bands do by peaking for a second time in their career with the albums Brave and Afraid of Sunlight. And they did it by breaking the rules once again. Released at the height of the grunge/alt rock movement, 1994's Brave featured eerie sounds, barely audible vocals, and several complex song arrangements. But in spite of heavy critical acclaim, the decision to make a single 50 minute music video featuring most of the album's material was a good indication of how the material was to be marketed, and the public was not given access to it. The follow up album Afraid of Sunlight spawned the tour which gave the author his first Marillion in Montreal experience, which would forever change the way that he looked at live music and the relationship between performer and audience.

The next few years would see Marillion struggling to maintain creative control over their music, which cost them a great deal of label support. Due to a lack of funds, the band were unable to tour in North America to promote their 1997 album This Strange Engine. But in this challenge a silver lining was found, and the Marillion fan community really came into its own. Marillion fans in North America actually started a fund raising campaign, and people payed $60,000 out of their own pockets to fund a Marillion tour in North America. It was the first sign to the outside world that Marillion fans are not your average music lovers. As the label troubles continued, Marillion were forced to stop playing in North America, but the dedication of the fanbase and the ability to communicate directly with them via the internet would be the key to the band's success.

In 2000, Marillion made an unprecedented move by marketing their next album to their fans before it was even recorded. The idea was that the fans would pre-order the album, and the money from the pre-orders would finance the making of the album. More than 12,500 fans pre-ordered the album which would become Anoraknophobia, which greatly diminished the band's reliance on finance from the label, leaving them with complete creative control over their work. The result was something that is almost unheard of in the music business. Marillion peaked a third time. The follow up album, 2004's epic double CD Marbles, is considered by many fans and the band itself to be Marillion's best record, making them the only band that the author has ever heard of who can say that about their 13th record. Marbles also had a strong pre-order campaign, though the pre-orders financed the promotion, not the album itself. The result was Marillion scoring their first UK top ten hit since 1987 with "You're Gone", and embarking on their first North American tour in 7 years.

The return to Montreal was breathtaking for the band and the fans, who showed their appreciation after the first song with such an ovation that the band could not start their next song for probably 5 minutes.

Over the past 6 years, Marillion has continued to provide a different experience for fans, by putting together Marillion Weekends. These are events which feature 3 days of concerts, often with different themes, and normally including a past album performed in its entirety. For 6 years these weekends have been held in the UK and Europe, but when it came time to have a Marillion Weekend in North America, there could be only one choice for the city. And so Marillion fans from Toronto, Ottawa, New York, Connecticut, Denver, and Jesus knows where else, descended on the Olympia in Montreal, PQ....

(some of the facts and figures contained are from wikipedia)

Why it pays to be a leafs fan

You can get a tattoo like this:


...and you won't ever have to worry about the need to put in another number.

<3 YAHOO

According to YAHOO, Braydon Coburn was assessed a game misconduct in this afternoon's game against the Rangers. For hooking.

The author feels now that hooking has successfully been grounds for a game misconduct in an NHL game, it appears that Gary Bettman's work is finally done.

Remember this?

So in response to Down Goes Brown's #2 selection on his list of staged hockey fights, here's the boxscore.

The author truly feels that the officials in this contest saw that they had a chance a a record, and just started giving out superfluous misconduct penalties (really why do you kick a guy out of the same game twice?).

A History of Bonehead Moves

A recent article by the author's all-time fave columnist Damien Cox revolved around why Mats Sundin should be cheered upon his return to Leafland. While the author found himself in full agreement with this point, Mr. Cox touched on a common theme in mainstream hockey media... blame the Leafs' fans for the team's lack of success (see why this argument is flawed). He claims that the fans in Toronto have a history of booing excellence, going so far as to mention Larry Murphy as an example of said excellence. First of all, Mr. Cox must have a poor memory, because while Murphy was certainly a great player, he was no more than a decent plyer while he was with the Leafs. Imagine the Leafs somehow got Ilya Kovalchuk in a trade, and he was suddenly just a decent player. One might be inclined to boo.

But anyways, booing excellence... while Murphy was one of the best players of his time, he was not as good during his tenure with the Leafs, and some nights he was downright awful. It's very amusing that Cox criticizes Leafs fans for booing Murphy when he wasn't playing up to par, yet so many people around Toronto hold Canadiens fans on a pedestal for their willingness to boo (or just not buy tickets) when their players' performance is not up to snuff.

Funny that the Habs should be mentioned at this point, because there was another night where another great player was downright awful. However, unlike Larry Murphy with the Leafs, this player had brought his team and its fans no shortage of great play. That didn't stop the fans from booing him mercilessly when he had this one bad night. And it certainly didn't stop his idiot coach from allowing his best player to be embarrassed in this manner:



Apparently Mr Tremblay also has a short memory. While four of his five Stanley Cup rings were won with a team, the one that says 1986 only ever touched his finger because of Patrick Roy. And 1993, the year when the Habs won the Cup in spite of not having a single 100 point scorer (this may not seem odd, but the 1992-93 season was the highest scoring season in NHL history, and 21 players that year hit the century mark). Jesus, their best player other than Roy was fucking Kirk Muller. Seriously fans? YOU FUCKING INSULTED THIS GUY?? SO FUCKING HARD THAT YOU RAN HIM RIGHT THE FUCK OUT OF TOWN??? SERIOUSLY MARIO TREMBLAY??? WHY, BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T LIKE HIM PERSONALLY YOU DUMB FUCK????

Well Roy moved to Colorado where he would win one more Cup with (finally) a little help from the players in front of him (insert additional Mike Keane comment here), and yet another pretty much on his own. By this point, he couldn't hear Jeremy Roenick's criticisms, the Montreal fans' boos, or Bobby Nadeau's pleas for mercy with all of the rings blocking his ears. Eventually, the Montreal brass actually decided to recognize his contribution on Patrick Roy night earlier this season (come to think of it, they could have done that a long time ago and simply fired Tremblay for fucking over their best player, so they were being pretty simple too, as it turns out). While Roy won his Cups, the Habs went on to an unprecedented lack of success over the next several years.

So congratulations Mario Tremblay and the fans of Montreal, may Patty Roy (pronounced "Roy") be your Bambino. That would be the funniest shit ever.

P.S. The Wikipedia article on Patrick Roy says that his trade to the Avs was dubbed "Le Trade" by the Montreal media. Perhaps this wouldn't have been so funny on its own, but the fine folks at Wikipedia decided that it would be necessary to provide their readers with a translation ("The Trade").

Why it could be worse

The Leafs are awful, and neither the author nor any other Leafs fan will ever attempt to tell you otherwise. They have been awful from before the season began, and nobody ever expected any more than what they've gotten this season. No what really hurts for Leafs fans are the countless trade and free agent flops, such as Larry Murphy, Owen Nolan, and Andrew Raycroft. Not to mention the ever popular practice of signing and trading for good players who are either broken or well past their prime, such as Eric Lindros, Jason Allison, and Jeff O'Neill.(all in the same season).

Over the previous three seasons, though nobody would claim that they could have been cup contenders, the Leafs were capable of more, and regularly showed it with late season surges which would fall just short of a playoff berth, and would result in the loss of a possible high draft pick. Considering that the NHL has the thinnest draft pool in the universe, Leafs fans have come to feel insulted by these wins (and OT losses).

But again, it could be worse. Consider for a moment the 1983 Stanley Cup finals. The Edmonton Oilers versus the New York Islanders. At the time, the Oilers had several young stars on their team, and were just coming into their own. Like last year's Penguins. The Islanders were an established hockey power with a much greater depth of playoff experience. Like last year's Red Wings. Like last year's Cup finals the more experienced team beat the snot out of the newbies, and the newbies (presumably) learned a valuable lesson on what it takes to beat the toughest opponents when the games matter most. The Edmonton Oilers came back the next season and dominated the league, winning 57 of 80 games, and going 15-4 in the playoffs en route to the first of 5 Stanley Cups in 7 years. And this year's Pittsburgh Penguins are in real danger of missing the playoffs. For all of the so-called evolution of hockey, and all of the all-star ballot stuffing (By the way, the Canadiens with their FOUR starting all-stars are also in trouble), these guys just can't seem to get it done.

Christ, this year you're better off being a Leafs fan.

A History of Bonehead Moves

Jim Marshall. The newer generation of football fans (read: the author and his contemporaries) hear the name Jim marshall, and they don't think of his 127 career sacks (unofficial, since the sack wasn't an official stat until 1982), or his former NFL record 282 consecutive games (he has only been passed by punter Jeff Feagles, so he's still the REAL Iron Man), or his NFL record 29 fumble recoveries. Well, they don't think of 28 of those 29 recoveries. They do think of this one, from a game against the 49ers on October 25, 1964:



When you hear someone say "Jim Marshall ran a fumble back the wrong way", you make a couple of assumptions. First, you assume that the play was around midfield, since players generally have some awareness of field position, but the recovery took place on the 49ers 35 yard line. Second, you assume that there was some kind of scrum, so there would be some kind of confusion as to which way either team was going, but the 49ers player was establishing forward progress in the open field right up until the time he fumbled the ball. You also assume that Marshall would have been spun around or in some way disoriented at some point during the play, but he just picks the ball up and starts running (the wrong way, that is). Finally, you assume that he was just running for his life, and never looked back, but he looked back several times, presumably thinking that his team mates were waving their arms, pointing the other way, jumping up and down, shouting "dear God, stop running the wrong way", burying their faces in their hands, punching themselves in the testicles, crying, vomiting, and getting a fix on him with their sniper rifles all in celebration of his apparent touchdown.

During the author's extensive research (searching for Jim Marshall on Wikipedia), it was discovered that Marshall redeemed himself by scoring a sack and a more conventional fumble recovery which would help the Vikings come back to win the game. Also, Roy "Wrong Way" Riegels sent Marshall a letter reading "Welcome to the club". Riegels's own wrong way incident occured in none other than the Grandaddy Of Them All, the 1929 Rose Bowl.

Quote of the day

Interviewer (probably Darrell Waltrip) - "So why did you pick him (Ryan Newman) as your team mate?"

Tony Stewart - "Because he's the only guy you makes me look thin"

A return (of sorts)

So the author realises that there have been 3 consecutive non-comedic posts in the past couple of days. For fear of this blog becoming too preachy BIV would like to present something at least moderately funny. Of course one can't write a comedic internet post without making use of the most powerful of the cornerstones of both comedy and the internet... plagiarism! So, stolen almost directly from DSBT's files, BIV is proud to introduce........

ALEX PICARD!!!

JEAN LUC ROBITAILLE!!!

AND BJORN BORG!!!!!

More drugs

So today the topic on TSN turned to the all time liars in sports, capped by Pete Rose's denial of any involvement with gambling.

Let it first be known that the author agrees with the lifetime ban imposed on Pete Rose by MLB. Many people ask what's the harm, since there's no proof of him ever betting against his own teams? Well here's the harm: he broke the most serious rule in baseball at the time.

No gambling is a serious rule because the influence of gambling can have a negative effect on the integrity of the game. But what is possible with gambling is always true with steroids and HGH. If you make yourself a better player by cheating, you should not be recognized alongside Hank Aaron. Like Ben Johnson, your records should be omitted. If Pete Rose can't get into the Hall of Fame for gambling, then many of the best players of our time should certainly not be afforded that honour. In fact we should see more players removed from the ballot than inducted.

And speaking of lifetime bans, let's talk about Buck Weaver and Barry Bonds.

Buck Weaver was banned from baseball along with 7 other players for involvement in the 1919 World Series fix. Barry Bonds has not been banned from baseball for his involvement in the BALCO scandal.

Buck Weaver hit .324 with no errors in the 1919 series, so there's no evidence that he intended throw any games. Barry Bonds hit 762 home runs in his career, with 5 of his 6 highest season totals coming after he turned 35, which happened the year when Greg Anderson of BALCO became his trainer.

Weaver's alleged actions put a smear on one team in one season. Bond's alleged actions put a smear on the most prestigious record in baseball.

In spite of the lack of evidence of any direct wrongdoing, Weaver was banned from baseball for his knowledge of the fix, and failure to report it... this rule was adopted by MLB after the 1919 Series and enforced retroactively in Weaver's case. Barry Bonds broke a rule for which there wasn't much enforcement at the time, and if it were to be enforced retroactively he would be suspended for 50 days.

Buck Weaver's team mates, the ones who took the pay off, did so because at the time baseball players barely scraped a living out of their salaries, and were treated like second class citizens (particualrly those playing for notoriously cheap White Sox owner Charles Comiskey), this was a time before free agency or million dollar sports drink endorsements. Barry Bonds took steroids most likely because he was sick of playing second fiddle to the pure power hitters (many of whom were on performance enhancers) while he, as the best all around player of his time, toiled for a slightly less extravagant salary and slightly less notable endorsement deals.

Buck Weaver won his civil suit against White Sox owner Charles Comiskey for his lost salary for the 1921 season, and there were no legal documents implicating Weaver of any wrong doing. There is enough evidence against Bonds to warrant a criminal trial for obstruction of justice and perjury charges.

At the end, Barry Bonds should not be banned from baseball. Retroactive enforcement of rules should not take place, and it's simply MLB's fault for not getting on the drug testing trolley years before steroid and HGH use became such a widespread problem. However, his records should be wiped and his name removed from any future Hall of Fame ballot. The precedent is there, since Mark McGwire has not been inducted to the Hall, and is the only eligible 500 home run hitter not in the Hall. If voters will not induct McGwire for strong heresay, then the hard evidence against Bonds should warrant his removal.

Moreover, with the lack of hard evidence against Buck Weaver, the strong evidence which exists in his favour (his statistics from the World Series), and the fact that the only rule that he can be even reasonably accused of breaking didn't even exist at the time.

In fact, fuck Barry Bonds, he's not even that important.
Reinstate Buck Weaver.

Drugs, drugs, drugs

So some surprising results this week. Apparently Alex Rodriguez, Miguel Tejada, and (gasp) Barry Bonds have all tested positive for performance enhancing drugs at some point over the last few years. What's really funny is how these developments have not garnered as much attention as Michael Phelps sucking on a bong.

To be fair, we haven't had any pictures of the baseballers' drug tests, and heaven forbid we put any real stock in a story that doesn't come with visual aids. But let's think on what this all means. Michael Phelps did something that at the most could bring on some minor charges and a little embarrassment. Marajuana doe not help you win.

Olympic Gold Medals: zero

And then there are these baseball players, who are making all sorts of profit with their drug use. Think about it, what would their salaries be without the performance enhancers? They would have made a lot, yes, but they owe a few million of their 8-digit salaries to the extra bulk and exercise recovery time afforded them by the cream or the clear or whatever you want to call it. For this, their crimes goes well beyond the integrity of the home run records. Oh yeah, they also perjured.

The Super Bowl

So three days after the Pro Bowl it comes down to a post about the Super Bowl. The author has been neglecting his duties again. However, the discussion today, albeit late, is in fact all about the big game, which had big plays, tough plays, and two comebacks.

It should be noted that in the past, the big game was just a name. A name that went hand in hand with some other terms for the NFL championship game, such as Super Bore, or Super Blowout. You see, through the 1980s and 1990s, your average Super Bowl was a good old fashioned shit kicking. In fact, through much of this period the NFC championship game was considered the real Super Bowl, as the teams involved were usually playing for the right to hammer the living bajeezus out of the Broncos or the Bills.

Then on January 25th, 1998 something happened. John Elway happened. The same John Elway who was on the list of great Super Bowl whipping boys such as Fran Tarkenton or Jim Kelly. The same John Elway who was destined to go down in history as a great player who just couldn't get it done in the big game. In the third quarter, the Broncos went on a 92-yard romp to take the lead. This drive was highlit by one of the most iconic plays in football. Skip to 1:20.



It's not that Elway had a great game. In fact, he didn't (the next time the Broncos had the ball he gave up an interception that allowed the Packers back into the game). It was simply John Elway doing what it takes to win the big one. And with this play a new era for the Super Bowl began.

In the years that followed the Super Bowl became an event that actually lived up to its billing. Two years later this happened:



The Patriots would win three championships in 4 years, with a three point margin for each victory. They would go into another with an 18-0 record, and go into the closing minutes with the lead:



Then this year, the Cardinals came back from a 13 point deficit in the 4th quarter, capped by this:



On its own that would have made for a pretty nice ending, but then:



So congratulations to the NFL. You've certainly come a long way from a string of Super Bowls where the most memorable play was Don Beebe hustling to knock the ball out of Leon Lett's hand, so the Bills could lose 52-17 instead of 59-17.

Sports Nicknames: The Bad

In light of the recent post which discussed the more awesome nicknames in sports. Today we shall examine those nicknames which are uninspired, inappropriate, or just plain fucking nonsense. And we shall do so with far more attention to brevity since the author should be doing homework.

Ty Cobb - The Georgia Peach

Peaches are sweet and fuzzy. Ty Cobb was a racist dick who sharpened his cleats for extra opponent-stabby effect and sharpened his will for extra mercilessly-beating-the-handicapped effect.

Ted Kennedy - Teeder

What the crap is he teeding, anyways?

Randy Johnson - The Big Unit

Just.... no....
Ah fuck it, who can resist...
Why not just call him "The Big Johnson"?

Henri Richard - The Pocket Rocket

The Rocket only narrowly missed the good list (lost points due to Habs-playing type behavior). But here's his brother, getting reminded on a regular basis that no matter how many rings he collects, he will always be #2 in the Richard family.

Gale Sayers - The Kansas Comet

It's not that this is a horrible nickname... it has alliteration, it conveys speed. But Sayers only played his college ball in Kansas. He's actually from Nebraska. The idea conjures up Naked Gun-esque ideas of boxers named the Missouri Murderer, who are originally from New Jersey and fight out of Cleveland. Also, the highly convenient given name "Gale" is sitting right there, just itching for a wind-inspired pun. Why this avenue was never explored, the author shall never know. How about Gale Force Wind or Gale Front? They're not much but they're a start.

Many Hockey Players - All or part of the surname, then "-ie" or "-er"

The author has heard the arguments for this one (mostly they're based on brevity), and the author is not convinced. All these nicknames say is that nobody cares enough to give your moniker any though whatsoever, but they'd like to give you a nickname for the sake of a nickname. If the media wants to talk about Mike Richards and the best they can come up with is "Richie", then just fucking call him Mike Richards. Similarly, the Holden argument fails in that a teammate saying "Hey, Richie, pass the Axe deodorant spray" would save even more valuable syllables by saying "Hey, Mike, pass the Axe deodorant spray".

Mike Richards, Axe spokemodel

Joe Louis - The Brown Bomber

A black man goes into a white dominated business, and proceeds to get himself a nickname which first refers to the colour of his skin and then wraps it up with an oft-used cliche in said business. He's the Bizarro Vanilla Ice.

A History of Bonehead Moves

Everybody makes mistakes. It's a fact of life that we have all long since come to accept. But let's face it, pro sports is a big business. You are expected to consistently put a quality product on display for your fans, and a mental error at a crucial time sticks in people's heads. Nevertheless, there have been some truly epic failures over the years, and the author is not talking about bad plays from an athletic standpoint (i.e. Bill Buckner or Ray Finkle). No, the author is talking about those plays that make you ask "what the fuck was going through that guy's head?"

Tonight the author will review the actions of a man who has become synonymous with the word "gaffe". He is former Cowboys tackle Leon Lett. However the actions in question are not his famous ham-bone incident at Super Bowl XXVII. While this was a humiliating play for Lett personally, the game was already a joke, so really all he did was sacrifice a little bit of dignity for the sake of comedy.

The actions in question took place some 10 months later on the second biggest day on the NFL calendar, Thanksgiving Day. With the Cowboys leading 14-13 in a rare Dallas snowstorm, the visiting Dolphins lined up for a last minute field goal. The field goal attempt was blocked, and all the Cowboys had to do was let the ball go dead (note to non football fans: only the defensive team may recover a blocked field goal; if the offensive team touches it or the ball stops moving before it is touched by the defensive team, the play is dead and the defensive team gets the ball). Let the ever articulate Emmitt Smith tell you the rest.



There are a few things in this play that the author finds hilarious. First of all Leon Lett has apparently forgotten the above rule, which is a really basic football rule. Secondly, at no time does it cross his mind that something may be up when at least two players from each team are refraining from touching the ball in spite of having ample opportunity to safely make the recovery. Note also, once again, that it is snowing in fucking Dallas, as though Jesus really wanted Leon Lett to fail this horribly. The lightning quick speed which which the near 300 pounder comes screeching into the frame... seriously, the announcers and the stadium audience had at least a little bit of warning, but to those watching at home it was about about 3 Planck times of abject horror, then all they could do was blankly stare at the screen in a vain attempt attempt to comprehend what had just happened. Then there was the play by play jeeves saying "Leon Lett" twice, first with run of the mill sports announcer shock, then with the tone of your mother when she used your full name before a lecture when you were 6. But that note from the little girl... that has to be simultaneously the saddest and the funniest thing that the author has ever heard.

Attention Stalkers

Our good friends at DSBT have a little something for you concerning the whereabouts of your favourite hockey players.

Sports Nicknames: The Good

Inspired by Dull Skates and Broken Twigs' mention of the "Little Ball of Hate" Pat Verbeek, as well as Cracked.com's love of lists, the author (that's me) has decided to compile a list of the top nicknames in sports. By the way, honourable mention goes to the 6,238 hockey players who have been given the nickname "Killer".

Ron Francis - Ronnie Franchise

In two stints spanning 16 total seasons with the Whale/Canes, the author's (that's me) current old school favourite amassed 1175 scoring points, which is not only a team career record, but is also well over doublethe points scored by the teams next all-time leader Kevin Dineen. That is to say, this nickname was not a stretch.

Gordie Howe - Mr. Hockey

Nobody has played more hockey at the major professional level than Gordie Howe, very few have performed as well, and it's safe to say that nobody's elbows were more feared. Also, no pro hockey player has, to the author's (that's my) knowledge, come closer to nailing Ms. Krabappel. There are those who say that Gordie Howe was great but should not be counted among the greatest, and that he just played a lot of games. Well all those people have to do is take a gander at the 1968-69 NHL season, when Mr. Hockey, playing for a fifth place team at the age of 41, finished third in the league in scoring with 103 points.

Apollo Creed - Many, Many Nicknames

The only fictional sportsman on this list, the former champ once had all of his nicknames listed a few minutes before he was brutally murdered in the ring by He-Man. The most well known of his names was The Master Of Disaster, but he was also known as (in increasing order of awesome) The Dancing Destroyer, The King Of Sting, and The Count Of Monte Fisto. Also, his ring entrance makes Prince Naseem Hamed look like the acme of modesty:



Talk to you after the fight, Champ.

Reggie Jackson - Mr. October

He was a career .262 hitter, and nobody in the history of baseball has struckout more times. But if Jeremy Roenick were to mention it, Jackson would be quite unable to hear him, what with the 5 World Series rings in his ears. Rings that he has largely because nobody in the history of baseball has a bigger reputation for turning up his game in the month of October.

Babe Ruth - The Sultan of Swat

This is actually two awesome nicknames (sadly, George's mother did not give him the name "Babe"), and when you throw in "The Bambino", the greatest ball player of all time quickly become a pretty good nickname mine, too. Only two players have swatted more in their careers, and his 60 dingers in a single season remains the highest un-asterisked total.

Dick Lane - Night Train

He actually got the name from an old big band record, but nothing could be more fitting. This name captures his feared tackling style (the facemasking rule in football exists because of Lane) and it fucking rhymes. What more could you ask?

Walter Payton - Sweetness

Since his running style was ridiculously aggressive, the author (that's me) can only assume that this nickname stems from Payton's exploits as a hip-hop artist:



By the way, Payton and the 1985 Bears were so good that they recorded this video before the Super Bowl... victory was just that certain.

Stu Grimson - The Grim Reaper

While the other people on this list can be considered greats, Stu Grimson didn't even really belong in the NHL, but for his ability to intimidate the sweet living fuck out of everyone with his insanely unpredictable behavior:



The author (that's me) especially likes Doug "Killer" (imagine that) Gilmour's belly-to-back suplex, and Veal Scalloppini getting into it with the fan. But wait, there's more:



Calling this guy the Grim Reaper is actually a little misleading. While old Death is certainly a fearsome foe there is method, and consistency, and purpose in its ways. This guy was just a crazy shit who was given a piece of wood and thrown on the ice.

Lawrence Taylor and LaDainian Tomlinson - LT

Both of these men are so unbelievably bad ass that they don't need any of your little pussy-assed "words".

Roy Halladay - Doc

Originally a play on the old west gunfighter/dentist Doc Holliday, this turned out to be possibly the most appropriate nickname of all. The man is a fucking surgeon. He works quickly, he works tirelessly, he works methodically, and he has the best cutter since the invention of people throwing stuff.

Tommy "Hitman" Hearns and "Marvelous" Marvin Hagler

Just. Fucking. Watch.



Any questions?

The Superbowlers Part 2: Troy Polamalu's Hair

It was my extreme pleasure this week to get an interview with one of the most charismatic personalities in the NFL today. Appearing in the coming Super Bowl will be the ever-recognizable Troy Polamalu's Hair.

B-IV:
First of all, I would like to congratulate you on your recent successes, and on your pending appearance in the big game. What preparations are you making to face that big passing attack?

TPH:
B-IV:
Now you and many of your team mates have been here before, but this time you're the favourites. Does this change your approach in any way?

TPH:B-IV:
And what sort of challenges do you expect with your individual game?

TPH:


B-IV:
But enough of this. Were there any celebrations after Sunday's victory? What does a big NFL star's hair do for fun?

TPH:B-IV:
Ha ha ha... of course you play in Pittsburgh, which has a great tradition in pro sports, with big names like Lemieux, Bradshaw, Mazeroski. Which Pittsburgh sports icon would you say has inspired you the most in your career?

TPH:

B-IV:
And of course as a famous football player, people look to you for inspiration as well. What does a hairdo in your position do to help the community at large?

TPH:

B-IV:
Thank you, Troy Polamalu's Hair. It was a pleasure as always.

TPH:

The Super Bowlers Part 1: Kurt Warner

The improbable run of the Arizona Cardinals into the Super Bowl has got me thinking of the perhaps even more improbable run of Kurt Warner, a man who has spent his entire career making Chad Pennington look like a model of consistency. Perhaps a year by year analysis of his professional career (with the help of the ever trustworthy Wikipedia) could help illustrate my point.

1994: Kurt Warner sucks. He does not get drafted and gets cut by the Green Bay Packers pre-season.

1995-1997: Kurt Warner is the man. In the Arena Football League. Which is held in slightly higher regard than the XFL.

1998: Kurt Warner sucks. He plays in one game for the St. Louis Rams, completing just 4 of 11 passes.

1999: Kurt Warner is the best quarterback in football. In what was essentially his rookie season he wins both league and Super Bowl MVP. Eventually the author (that's me) stabs himself in the spine everytime the TV folks show his wife and mom in the stands.

2000: Kurt Warner is average. He passes for a lot of yardage but breaks his hand and his interception ratio isn't good.

2001: Kurt Warner is the best quarterback in football. He wins the league MVP and the author (that's me) is not subjected to further images of family members. That's good because the author can do without the sap story, thank you very much.

2002: Kurt Warner sucks. 6 starts, 11 INTs, 8 fumbles, and a broken finger.

2003: Kurt Warner sucks. 1 start, fucking 6 fumbles.

2004: Kurt Warner is pretty good. He starts the first 9 games for the New York Giants and posts 5 wins (the Giants won only 4 games in all of 2003). He is inexplicably benched in favour of Eli Manning, who is not a particularly good quarterback unless it happens to be the 2008 calendar year.

2005: Kurt Warner sucks. After early struggles and an injury, he is replaced by Josh Fucking McCown. Josh Fucking McCown sucks. He is replaced by Kurt Fucking Warner. Kurt Warner is pretty good until he pops his MCL. And 9s replaced by Josh Fucking McCown. Kurt Warner is broken.

2006: Kurt Warner sucks. He is benched in favour of Matt Fucking Fucking Leinart, who needs at least twice as many expletives in his name as Josh Fucking McCown.

2007: Kurt Warner is awesome. He plays in relief of Matt Fucking Fucking Leinart a few times early in the season before taking over the starting job, throwing for over 3000 yards and 23 TDs in 11 starts.

2008: Kurt Warner is the best quarterback in football. Peyton Manning wins the league MVP with very similar numbers but this playoff run puts Warner over the top for this year.

Be sure to read again for the next edition of the Super Bowlers... an exclusive interview with Troy Polamalu's hair.

By the way...

I don't know her name but I'm pretty sure I married her when I saw this picture on the interwebs (hint: google image search for "leafs" and it's the 2nd result)

After a LONG Absence

Well. Well, well, well. Certainly you, my droogs, have not forgotten about your friend and humble narrator. As I have most certainly not forgotten you, my brothers.

There was me, that is Michael, and I sat in the awesomesauce living room, trying to make up my rassoodocks what to do with the afternoon. The awesomesauce living room had Dr Pepper-plus, Dr Pepper plus Prednosone or Reactine, which is what I was drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old pigskin.

"I could never stand to see anyone like that, whatever his age might be, but more especially when he was real old like this one was."

And what did my eyes see but the mighty Arizona Cardinals, fronted as it were by a young droog named Larry Fitzgerald, an older droog named Kurt Warner, and a real horrorshow display of chicanery:



But pay heed to your humble narrator, o my brothers, for the first thing that flashed into my gulliver upon this most momentous of victories was the '47 Cardinals, and that any old drought could possibly be snuffed out, real quick like. Right, right?

Or not.