As much as we would all prefer on Super Sunday to contemplate – in excruciating detail – the birth canal of Tim Tebow’s mother, and as much as the CBS network would help us in this when not airing moronic entreaties for the jiggliest web hosting company in Arizona, powerhouse feminist and discrimination attorney Gloria Allred has insouciantly put the Tebow family’s claims up on the table and into the stirrups to begin a procedure of her own.
Days after representing Shaq’s girlfriend in a lawsuit concerning his alleged harassment, the plucky counselor has announced she smells something fishy about the Tebow family’s claim that religious bravery on Ma Tebow’s part against the medical establishment is solely to credit for Tim’s existence. For one thing, abortion has been flatly illegal in the country of his birth since 1930. So has the under-center snap, but that’s a different kettle of fish controversy.
In her exclusive interview with RadarOnline.com Allred slams the ad and CBS’s decision to air it, pointing out factual inconsistencies with Pam’s story. One glaring one is the fact that the act of abortion is totally illegal in the majority Catholic country of the Philippines – under all circumstances including rape and incest, and even without a provision in the circumstance that the mother’s life is in danger. The law has been in effect since 1930.
Allred says she believes it an impossible scenario to believe that Philippino doctors would of ever suggested abortion as a viable option for Tebow in the first place. And when you learn that physicians and midwives who perform abortions in the Philippines face six years in prison, and may have their licenses suspended or revoked, and that women who receive abortions – no matter the reason – may be punished with imprisonment for two to six years, it’s easy to see why.
“Tim Redding is one of the worst teammates I’ve ever had,” fumed former Met Mike Bacsik on a Friday afternoon edition of ESPN’s “Baseball Tonight”, denying charges from former Nationals teammate Tim Redding the former had intentionally delivered a big fat meatball to Barry Bonds for the Sultan Of Surly’s 756th career home run. “I was fighting for my baseball life everytime I took the mound,” Bascik insisted to Karl Ravech. “I’d be costing myself a big league job if I was trying to give up runs.” Observing this bizarre pissing match, the San Francisco Chronicle’s Ray Ratto muses, “It is nice to know, though, that the record still matters enough to remain a point of ugly speculation and innuendo well into its third year of existence. In that way, it remains the gift that keeps on giving.”
This extends the number of people taking credit or receiving blame for Bonds 756th home run by one, to Bonds, the Giants’ organization, the sellout crowd at the game, the poeople who built the ballpark, the bat manufacturer, all the employees at BALCO, two pitchers and the Nationals’ organization.
And Bonds, to his great credit, has remained silent on the entire issue because, actually having hit the home run, doesn’t need to say he hit it.
Baseball / pop culture fans of a certain vintage undoubtedly recall former “SNL” fixture Joe Piscopo’s prominent role in the Amazins’ 1986 cheese classic “Let’s Go Mets” clip. In Thursday’s Trentonian, Piscopo tells the paper’s Chris Melchiorre, “I was never a Mets fan…I only did that video so I could get my kid inside [Shea Stadium] so he could play on the field. (link courtesy Mets Police)
Piscopo was in Bordentown Tuesday night for Roma Bank™s 90th anniversary banquet, and the Sinatra-impersonating, bodybuilding, ™80s icon set the record straight about his fandom and about sports in his home state.
œI™m a Yankees fan, I always have been, Piscopo said. œI respect the Jets and the Mets, and that Jets™ loss on Sunday was heartbreaking, but I root for the Yankees and Giants.
œYears ago when the Yankees won the World Series, I was actually in the parade, I was on one of the floats. Piscopo said. œAnd everybody was screaming ˜Hey, Piscopo what are you doing up there? You™re a Mets fan.™ And I kept yelling back, ˜It™s not true, I™m a Yankees fan.™ I grew up a Yankees fan and I™ll always be a Yankees fan.
The bottom line is this: Tanking doesn’t pay off, especially if a team doesn’t have competent leadership. Yes, once-in-a-lifetime players come through the draft, but there’s a reason those guys come along only twice a decade. What happens when a team tanks to draft Michael Olowokandi or Kwame Brown (above, right)
The Celtics tanked the 1996-97 season in pursuit of Tim Duncan, and with two lottery picks, had the best odds of winning at 36 percent.
They wound up with Chauncey Billups (No. 3) and Ron Mercer (No. 6). Billups was traded midway through his rookie season and didn’t develop into a top-level player until his arrival in Detroit in 2002. Mercer was serviceable, at best.
In the last 10 years, only No. 1 picks LeBron James and Dwight Howard led their team to The Finals, and neither have jewelry to show for it.
When a team gives up on a season, it makes it increasingly difficult to evaluate its players, to see who fits and who should be let go. With a possible labor dispute coming in 2011, many teams will be reluctant to go through a housecleaning.
And who knows? If one of those porous teams makes the playoffs — and makes some noise — general managers might discover they want to add to the roster, not blow it up
I wouldn’t be too worried about the prospect of the 2009-2010 Pistons making the playoffs, much as I’d find it hard to characterize Joe Dumars as a poor GM (the selection of Darko Milicic — unassisted via tanking — aside)
“It’s a feeling of inadequacy that permeates every aspect of your life,” said a former Houston Chronicle beat writer who covered the Twin Towers, Ralph Sampson and Hakeem Olajuwon. “Before I covered the Rockets, my life seemed perfect. I wasn’t rich, but I was married to the love of my life and we were happy.”
The retired scribe says after three or four years covering the Rockets, his wife began complaining he seemed insecure about almost everything.
“I flipped out when we went to her 20-year high school reunion and met her prom date,” the former writer said. “He was the backup center on her high school team. He was 6-6 and maybe 180 pounds, a real bag of bones. You know the type. Probably hung like Secretariat.”
His marriage never recovered. He turned to alcohol. He wasted thousands of dollars on male enhancement supplements. He refused to believe his wife’s kind words of reassurance. Watching sports, particularly basketball, had been the bonding thread in their dating relationship. He demanded his wife never watch another basketball game — pro, college or even high school.
It’s not an uncommon story. Statistics show the divorce rate for NBA writers is nearly triple the divorce rate for NFL writers. It’s not the travel. It’s the wear and tear on the male psyche.
If you’ve ever wondered why Sam Smith no longer writes for a national daily, perhaps Whitlock has the answer.
(New Orleans Saints owner Tom Benson. Not shown : umbrella)
It would take some doing to compete with Greg Oden’s cock pics or Paul Shirley’s act of career suicide for heavy sports blog attention this week, but Sports On My Mind’s D.K. Wilson is fully up to the challenge. To wit, following the Saints earning their first ever conference championship, dwil takes umbrage with “Black people who’ve taken on the characteristics of their oppressors so fully that, like zombies, they believe that the city™s welfare, its psychic and actual health is tied directly to the city™s professional football team landing a berth in Super Bowl XLIV.” OK, that’s Quintron off the hook, then.
The proof lies in the sudden and disgusting proliferation of a Black œWho Dat nation of quasi-elitist, once-slave journalists and Black professionals and students; photos on social media websites of their alcohol-induced camaraderie abound as they cheer for a football team owned by a rich, drunken White fool who is quick to break out an umbrella and dance on the graves of the dead who are a by-product of a Crescent City™s sullied gifts to a nation “ the gifts of deadly racism and of government-organized crime-corporate graft.
The gift of a hurricane meant only for Black people, meant only to drive those Black people from the city forever.
These are the Black people who will cheer for Tom Benson™s New Orleans Saints come Super Bowl Sunday, though a Black man, Jim Caldwell, is the head coach of the Indianapolis Colts. They will cite their hate of Peyton Manning and howl at the very press they yearn to emulate that the press would have us believe Manning is the real head coach of the team. Of course a few of them will write of Caldwell now, but they are the same Black men who also said Caldwell was responsible for cavalierly throwing the œintegrity of the game of pro football into doubt “ and they are the same people who fail to comprehend the oxymoronic nature of that statement. They are the same men who fail to comprehend how statements like that and others of a similar nature serve to further fement racist attitudes by White people; how their statements protected the White man who was actually responsible for pulling the Colts starters, general manager, Bill Polian.