The Roscoe! Report

Ball don't lie.

Monday, July 31, 2006

We're going to need a bigger blog

Shark week may be the greatest event in television today. It appeals to one of the most basic notions of human existense: Sharks are terrifying. And awesome. They are alternately awesomely terrifying and terrifyingly awesome. I'm going to have sharks on the mind all week, so it became unavoidable that I would do a little piece on the sharks of the sports world.

San Jose Sharks - The winner of the original naming contest was the "Blades," but the name was deemed too violent. Naturally, "Sharks" was the non-violent alternative. You know, because Sharks doesn't convey violence at all. Any sort of fear the name might have inspired was negated by the team color, teal. All in all, I never understood the logic of naming a hockey team after aquatic animals. The water is frozen. It just seems incongruous.

Greg Norman - Poor Greg Norman. Although his logo is pretty cool. Nice hat too. I really don't want to say anything mean about the guy.

Jeff Samardzija - Nicknamed not for his athletic prowess or killer instinct, Samardzija is simply called "Shark" because he looks like a shark. Although one can assume he is as personable as those killers of the deep because he goes to Notre Dame, collegiate center of jackasses.

Ron Jaworski -One of my favorite ESPN personalities, Jaws mostly breaks down tape for NFL Matchup. No one does more with less. He only really talks about one play per week.

Drew Rosenhaus - Essentially nicknamed himself in his book A Shark Never Sleeps. Another chapter in his long story of douchebaggery. (And some sharks do their own sharky way.)

EA Tiburon - The wonderful people who make Madden. They are why when you create a franchise, the default name is Tiburon and the default logo is a shark. Easily the greatest sharks of the sports world.

Update: Miami Sharks - Per Matt's suggestion, the fictional team of Any Given Sunday. The decision making process for that team name can be summed by Lenny Leonard: "Uh-oh! Sharks! The assassins of the sea!... Oooh. You're not sharks. You're dolphins. The clowns of the sea."

Thats all for now. If I missed anything--and I'm sure I did--leave it in the comments or e-mail me. I'll leave you with these words of wisdom from Quint, one of the greatest characters in cinematic history:

"Here's to swimming with bowlegged women."

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Charles Barkley considering contemplating possibly running for Governor of Alabama...maybe

But he won't. This man complains about the hours at TNT.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Donovan McNabb more of a pussy than MTV reality show contestant

Those of you who aren't following the latest installment of MTV's Real World/Road Rules Challenge (or claim you aren't, you liars) are missing quite the heroic performance by one Evan.

You see, Evan has been struggling through a sports hernia. He injured himself a few episodes ago and since then, has valiantly climbed over a river on a rope, swam with sharks, and drug hay among other strenous events. All this with a sports hernia that is so serious that Australian doctors say he should stop participating in the Challenge. Evan heroically refuses to give in or even let his competitors know of the intense pain he is experiencing. Even his partner, Coral is unaware of the nature of his injury.

All this leads me to one simple conclusion. Donovan McNabb, NFL quarterback, is not nearly as tough as Evan, a college student on a reality show. Evan is toughing it out to win wonderful prizes from STA Travel and T-Mobile, Donovan couldn't even tough it out to win NFL games for which he was being compensated generously. Goddamn pussy. Rush was right.

Saturday, July 22, 2006

The Chick on Monk Pulls a Bobby Valentine

First, I will not apologize for watching Monk. I'm an old soul. I have been described as Grandpa-ish. I enjoy Monk. So sue me. Monk is consistently entertaining television. Get off my back.

Monk airs on Friday night, so I usually TiVo it and watch on Saturday afternoon. But I had an early Saturday, so there was significantly less boozing on Friday night. As boozing decreases, television viewing increases. So, I watched Monk. Once again, lay off.

Well, without explaining the entire episode, Monk and his lovely assistant are coaching a girls basketball game. Monk's assistant gets two technicals and is ejected. She solves the case while brooding in the locker room and returns to the court in the mascot costume. But after reporting her discovery to the Chief, she remains on the bench with the mascot head removed. The ref clearly sees her. The opposing team should be shooting free throws that instant. The opposing coach should be throwing a fit. None of that happened.

The game was pretty well choreographed up to that point. (It was girl's basketball, it's hard to screw that up.) The re-creation lost all credibility with the poor officiating. Damn cable television and their unrealistic sports scenes ruining my Friday nights. (Note: That was the most pathetic sentence written in the history of time.)

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Nike Ad Features Numerous Football Players, Herpes Cases

Nike is continuing last year's high school football motif for its Nike Gridiron campaign. This year, they've placed their spokesplayers on a single fictional high school team coached by Don Shula, the Marlin Briscoe Hawks. Here's the commercial:

Now, I love the cameos by Steve Young and Deion Sanders. (Also, who's the babe with Deion? Yowza.) But one thing is troubling me about the ad. There are four NFL players featured in the commercial. One of them has a documented case of herpes. Two others have been linked to (read: slept with) Paris Hilton; Paris probably has herpes. Sweet fancy Moses, that is one diseased locker room.

How far will Nike take the high school storyline with this one? The potential is limitless. Will Michael Vick have a tearful meeting with the school nurse? Will Urlacher ignore the rules of the red jersey after Leinhart's locker room talk becomes too familiar for Brian? How will Mike respond when his troubled brother returns to town? This could be the prime-time teen-drama that the OC once was. Nike, don't let me down.

(Read about the second installment of the campaign at my new site,

Monday, July 10, 2006

A New Raven Linebacker Stabbing Story

Roderick Green, a linebacker for the Baltimore Ravens, was stabbed at a Bowling Alley early this morning. Police have no suspects and believe that the assailant is unkown to Green. I think we all know better.

Have you heard? Bill Simmons is friends with Adam Carolla

Well he is. And they're such good friends that Bill Simmons will be doing the Sports Updates on Adam Carolla's radio show today. You can hear Bill talk about his upcoming radio job and regurgitate his most recent column during his appearance on the same show last week. (If this link be misbehaving, try getting there through Adam Carolla's website.) And make sure you tune in today, whether it be through the internet or your local radio affiliate. You don't want to miss the Sports Guy say the same things he's been typing for years.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

Ben Wallace isn't available? Then get me his non-union Mexican equivalent

Welcome to Detroit, Nazr Mohammed.

[Update, is not the official site of Nazr Mohammed, but is pretty awesome, nonetheless. So, here's the link.]

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Wallace x2 - 1 = ?

Ben Wallace is officially, unofficially a Chicago Bull. And really, I have no qualms with any party of this deal. Ben Wallace should have taken the most money he could get. He's been an underpaid overachiever all of his career. He's earned his big payday. That being said, there's no way Ben Wallace's one-dimensional play is worth 4 years and 60 mil for the Pistons. The 'Stones are a cap-conscious team and Ben Wallace has slowed down considerably the past two years. As much as I love a hustling big man who does the little things, it's not fiscally responsible for a fairly cheap franchise to pay top dollar for the litte things. (I feel like I should just re-run Bill Simmons' Pedro-to-Mets article.) Plus, Ben Wallace and Flip Saunders never seemed to get along. It's probably best for Ben if he left. (For the record, I'd rather have Big Ben than Flip, but the price has made my opinion moot.) The incentive for Ben to stay was only the intangible loyalty of Detroit fans which, as awesome as we are, isn't really enough.

The Bulls are set to make a run at the championship. They gave the Heat a run for their money and added Tyrus Thomas and that Swiss freak, Thabo Sefolosha. (Honestly, I think Thabo might be the steal of the draft, judging by the video of him for the draft. He looks like a goddamn force.) If they move Tyson Chandler, as expected, for PJ Brown, they might have all the pieces in place to make a run at the NBA championship for at least the next three years. That and they get the Knicks draft pick next year! It was the right time for the Bulls to make a move and the right place for Big Ben. They can afford to have him be very, very overpaid in two years if that means they could win a championship now.

Now that I've sufficiently justified the move, time to mourn. Ben Wallace was the heart and/or soul of the New Bad Boys and the 2004 NBA Championship. His arrival in the Grant Hill trade re-established Detroit Pistons toughness. His departure signals a new era in Deeetroit Basketball, for better or for worse. Most likely worse, but we won't worry about that now. Right now, we worry about why the fuck we got rid of Darko. I miss that Serb.

Saturday, July 01, 2006

My (Planned) Red-Blooded American Sports Day

The Fourth of July approaches rapidly. On said day, we celebrate this great land that is America. (Fuck Yeah!) But how to appropriately celebrate the grandeur that is the United States? There are four things fundamental to our collective American experience:

-Blowing Shit Up

As the founders intended, I shall spend my Independence Day eating meat, drinking beer, watching sports and blowing shit up. Here's a tenative plan. Breakfast will probably be first, but after that, the order is pretty interchangeable.

At 9 am I will not wake. I will instead wake up at 11. For breakfast, I will have an artery-clogging country breakfast. I will have hash browns, sausages and pancakes. I will not have french toast or grapefruit. My coffee will be black and strong. It will truly be a manly breakfast and my day will begin sufficiently free.

After my heart breakfast, I will watch Rocky IV in it's entirety. Rocky defeating that cheating Russian Ivan Drago is the greatest jingoistic moment in cinematic history. And little known fact, it wasn't Rocky's toughness that led to his improbable victory, it was his freedom. I will then consider watching Miracle.

I will not watch Miracle.

I will check to see that my fantasy team is still sucking hard enough to create a gale-force wind. They will.

I will open a Samuel Adams. I will drink that Samuel Adams. I will repeat this process throughout the day.

At the traditional Independence Day barbecue, I will pitch 3 innings of relief ball. My curveball will be falling off the table. I will accomplish all of this while eating two cheeseburgers and four beers. My stat line will be 3 IP, 0 ER, 2 HA, 0 BB, 2 CB, 4 B. My career CBIP (Cheeseburger Per Inning Pitched) will increase to .4, while my career franchise record for beer consumption will grow ever larger. I will go 0-2 at the plate, but I will work the count in each of my at-bats, drawing two walks.

I will watch soccer and pretend not to care. I will make the same jokes about ties and dives. They will still be funny. I will not watch the Tour de France. I will not care.

I will hum "Proud to Be an American" and "Take me out to the ballgame" throughout the day.

More beer.

I will check Deadspin and make a snarky comment. Unsilent Majority will top it, the bastard.

I will watch the Tigers and ask all present whom their tiger is. I will tell them that mine is Craig Monroe. I will later ask them their favorite founding father. Mine is Aaron Burr. That crazy son-of-a-bitch.

I will stare reverently at my Dream Team poster. I will lament the current state of US international basketball, but will fondly remember the summer of 1992. I will make a joke about Christian Laettner to myself.

I will set off illegal fireworks. During the fireworks, I will hum that song from the Natural.

I will start a lively roundtable discussion of the DH. I find it to be a necessary evil. Gentleman can differ.

I will say "If I can't ______, then the terrorists have already won." At least four times.

Happy Independence Day from the Roscoe! Report.