As Ty just wrote, just about everybody in our profession owes an enormous debt of gratitude to Bill Simmons — if not to him directly, then certainly for the trails he blazed. I have personally been reading him for about a decade, and at various points during that time ventured back through his archives. Covering Simmons (and a few of his other big sports media cohorts) has almost become like following a sport in and of itself. We exhaustively parse through his every word; any alleged fatigue from readers on the topic was contradicted by traffic stats.
It’s difficult, and ultimately subjective, to put together any sort of list of his best work in his 14 years at ESPN, but this aggregation encompasses various conceits like mailbags or running/retro diaries, to playing against Tiger Woods in the Tiger Woods video game, to his reactions to various events like the Red Sox World Series and Malice at the Palace. In no particular order, these are some columns that stood out:
1. The Consequences of Caring (2012)
Starting last October, the Kings became my daughter’s first favorite team. Hockey moves at a different, more frenetic pace than other live sports — it’s tailor-made for the ADD Generation, and that’s before you include fans yelling things like “HEY SMITH, YOU SUCK!” or sarcastically singing a goalie’s last name. It’s also a more personable crowd: more lifers and diehards, fewer front-runners, less corporate, just friendlier and more engaged. You always hear that hockey players are the best interviews, but you rarely hear anyone say hockey fans are the best live event fans. They are. Of the four major sports, only hockey is significantly better in person.
I always thought my daughter would be a basketball fan — she loves playing hoops and even likes going to Clippers games. (She won’t attend Lakers games because “the Lakers fans are there.” Let’s just say the brainwashing worked.) Imagine my surprise when she fell for the Kings within minutes of her first game, even asking the lady next to us, “Who’s the best player?” The answer was playmaker Anze Kopitar, but only because Jonathan Quick hadn’t morphed into an octopus Jedi yet. She watched Kopi skate around for a few shifts, ultimately deciding, “I want to get his jersey!” because, as you know, little kids are the biggest front-runners on the planet. We showed up for the next period with my daughter proudly showing off her black no. 11 jersey. She was hooked. There was no going back.
2. Me, Mike & the Mad Dog (2006)
1:24 — “Sports radio, 66 … THE FAN! W… F-A-N!” Nobody has better jingles than this show. My favorite is the prolonged one at the start of the hour that goes, “They’re going at it as hard as they can! Mike and the Mad Dog, on the FAN. Nothing can get by ’em, turn it on and try ’em… Mike and the Mad Dog! W-F-A-N!!!!!”
(And if that runs through your head for the rest of the day … well, now you know how I feel.)
1:25 — Joe From The Cell thinks Carlos Beltran looks comfortable. Dog agrees, then takes a big swig of a Snapple. This somehow morphs into a discussion about how Mickey Mantle hit better from the right side than the left side. This show keeps you on your toes, I’ll tell ya.
1:26 — Carl from Philadelphia admits that Philly is a bad baseball town, but blames Charlie Manuel and the crappy Phillies’ starting rotation (both theories skewered by Mike and Dog), followed by their dumping the caller and Dog theorizing that the ’94 strike killed baseball in two cities, “Philly and Toronto.” Apparently he hasn’t been to a Royals game lately. That’s followed by Artie from New Jersey babbling about bad umpires and Mike successfully using the word “ascertained.” I’m really enjoying myself.
3. A Hall of Justice (2007)
Look, our country is screwed up. Whether we like it or not, people will always gamble, use illegal drugs, drink and drive, cheat on their spouses, cheat on tests, lie and steal, ditch their families, swear and fight, use performance-enhancing drugs. Banishing Mark McGwire from Cooperstown isn’t going to make any of that go away. Let’s stop pretending that the Baseball Hall of Fame is a real-life fantasy world — a place where we celebrate only the people and events we can all unanimously agree deserve to be celebrated — and transform it into an institution that reflects both the good and bad of the sport. Wait — wasn’t that Cooperstown’s mission all along? Shouldn’t it be a place where someone who knows nothing about baseball can learn about its rich history? Isn’t it a museum, after all?
If that’s the case — and I say it is — then how can we leave out Pete Rose, the all-time hits leader and most memorable competitor of his era? And how can we even consider leaving out McGwire, Barry Bonds and Sammy Sosa, the three most memorable hitters of the 1990s? We’re supposed to stick our heads in the historical sand and pretend these people were never born? Imagine if the rest of the world worked like this. Word is, JFK cheated on his wife. Should we change the name of the airport and remove all his memorabilia from the Smithsonian?
4. One Final Toss for the Dooze (2009)
Once Dooze started visibly declining, our daughter knew something bad was happening, so we told her that Dooze was heading to the moon soon and went through the “it’s better on the moon, she’ll be happier there” charade. Now she thinks everyone goes to the moon when they die. This will be awkward if she ever meets Neil Armstrong. But that’s the part nobody prepares you for — not just losing your dog, but watching your kids lose their dog. As a parent, you feel obligated to protect your children from the things you don’t want them to see, and then suddenly there’s your dog slowly dying in the house, and they’re seeing it every day. It’s not fair.
Right after New Year’s, Dooze took a turn for the worse. She looked skinny and frail, just a bag of bones with a beautiful golden coat. She was sleeping all the time. Rufus was sniffing her constantly. We had entered that despicable “How do we know when it’s time?” mode. We kept telling ourselves that Dooze would let us know when she was ready — somehow, someway — but that’s the thing about dogs, you just never know. If we bounced a tennis ball and she didn’t respond, we figured that would be it. But every time we bounced the ball, her head popped right up. We couldn’t tell how much she was suffering. There was no way to know. Dogs can’t speak. Dogs have a huge threshold for pain. You just don’t know. You can’t know.
5. First-annual Atrocious GM Summit (2006)
Simmons: Isiah, don’t you think you’re almost too obvious at this point? At least we could see both sides with some of Mitch’s moves. In your case …
(Editor’s note: Over the next 30 minutes, Simmons proceeded to list all of Isiah’s terrible decisions since he took over the team in December 2003, in chronological order, as the crowd voraciously applauded each move, almost like how the president gets applauded over and over again during the State of the Union address. For space reasons, we’re skipping to the tail end of Simmons’ question.)
Thanks to all of those moves, the Knicks have more untradable contracts than everyone else in the league combined; they won’t be under the cap until 2009; they have a payroll that’s $50 million higher than anyone else; and they won’t have a high lottery pick until 2008 because of the Curry trade. So how can you sell this as a rebuilding effort when you don’t have any picks, and how can you sell this as a move to contend when none of the current guys could possibly mesh?
Isiah: That’s an excellent question. The key is to make people believe you’re trying something that’s never been done before. In my case, I always try to acquire the best guy in the trade, regardless of whether it’s a good deal or not — then I can say I’m “stockpiling assets,” which throws people off the trail a little bit. Then, I like to float big names to reporters … like right now, I’m making it seem like KG is a possibility for us, and that’s why I’m gathering all of these assets. But I don’t have a chance in hell of getting KG. If Minnesota trades KG, it’s going to be for cap space, picks and young players, and we can’t give them two of those three things. So they would never deal with us —.
6. Diary of a Mad Draftnik (2001)
7:34 p.m.: NBA commissioner David Stern steps up to the podium with some opening comments: “Good evening, and welcome to the NBA draft. As you might or might not know, this will be the last draft involving high schoolers, because I plan on breaking the players’ union again and installing a mandatory age minimum for all draft picks. Billy Hunter, you better start running now. I will break you. Do you hear me? I will break you. You don’t want this!”
7:38 p.m.: The Wizards select high schooler Kwame Brown at No. 1; Kwame exults in the Green Room and hugs an unidentified friend who’s talking on a cell phone. The NBA … it’s fannnnnn-tastic! I love this game! Kwame slaps on a black Wizards hat to cap off his cream-colored suit, then walks onto the stage for the obligatory handshake with Stern.
(Hey, have you ever noticed that Stern does the same things whenever he’s shaking hands with a draftee? It looks like he’s smiling and having a conversation during the handshake, but he’s really muttering, “All right, congratulations … now just turn to the left … no, to the left … you wanna turn toward the cameras … listen, stop pointing at your posse, you’re ticking me off … just turn 90 degrees, OK … you don’t want to mess with me …”)
7. The Nation’s Destination: Destiny (2004)
8:41 — One-hopper back to Foulke, underhand scoop to first…
HEE-YAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
8:41 — HOLY $%#%@%@ #^%#$@#$@!!!!!!
8:42 — All right …
Forget about ending the curse and having 86 years of baggage erased in one fell swoop. If you don’t get emotional watching a group of guys celebrating and hugging when you feel like you know them, when you suffered all the same highs and lows, when you spent the last seven months with them … I mean, why even follow sports at all?
(Translation: It’s getting a little dusty in here.)
8:43 — Best glass of champagne in my life.
8:44 — Just called my Dad. Been waiting to make that call my whole life. “It happened in my lifetime!” he keeps saying. As an added bonus, the apocalypse didn’t happen.
8:47 — Standing on a podium, Bud Selig announces that Manny won the MVP as Manny makes exaggerated pointing gestures at his teammates. Couldn’t be more fitting. They placed him on waivers, tried to trade him to Texas for A-Rod … and he ends up winning the World Series MVP 10 months later. Just like Team Lucchino drew it up. Plus, Manny gave us this exchange:
— Jeanne Zelasko: “Do you believe in curses?”
— Manny: “I don’t believe in curse, I believe you make your own destination.”
(Not only a strangely appropriate response for the moment, but Mike Tyson must have been delighted.)
8. New Rules Help Define ’09 Playoffs (2010)
Revelation No. 3: The most potent force in January and February is the “Nobody Believes In Us” theory.
Again and again and again and again. Although we’ve never really figured out why. Every football team should be motivated in the playoffs, right?
My dopey theory: In the age of parity, every contender has roughly the same level of talent. There is no such thing as a juggernaut anymore. Even when the 2003/2004 Patriots rolled off their incredible 33-4 streak, three of their six playoff games (including both Super Bowls) came down to the final two minutes. Throw in the decline of home-field advantage and, more than ever, playoff football hinges on luck, breaks, injuries … and motivation. The past decade featured two of the most defining “Nobody Believed In Us” games ever played (Super Bowl XXXVI, Super Bowl XLII) as well as six teams (2000 Giants, 2001 Pats, 2003 Panthers, 2005 Steelers, 2007 Giants, 2008 Cardinals) that thrived on that mantra.
We always think of “Nobody Believed In Us” only working for the winning team, but the bizarro version is equally dangerous. You never want your team to be too pleased with itself (like the 2001 Rams or 2007 Pats) or overconfident for dubious reasons (see Ryan’s quote above). Instead of the “Too Many People Believed In Us” theory, I’d name this one after Albert Ganz, the villain in my favorite movie of all time (“48 Hrs.”). At the very end, Ganz is shot by Nick Nolte’s character, Jack Cates, looks down at the wound in disbelief and says, “I can’t believe it … I got shot!” A couple of beats pass, then Cates shoots him about 370 more times. So long, Ganz. (At least until he came back as Dexter’s dad.) But you never want to be rooting for the team that has a Ganz moment: Like Tennessee or Carolina last year, or the Patriots in Super Bowl XLII. I can’t believe it … I got shot.
9. Leaving Las Vegas (2001)
Walking the strip with Geoff and Bish on Thursday (an annual tradition for every Vegas trip) and hitting as many casinos as possible. Of course, we ended up at Treasure Island for a few hours, the place where I lost my gambling cherry in 1996 and the same place where Bish and I embarked on a legendary “no dinner/30 mixed drinks/improbable comeback/eight-hour” gambling binge back in ’99 (which ended up with me cashing in a $500 chip and peeing next to WWF wrestler Undertaker within the span of two minutes — one of the most memorable nights of my entire life).
Anyway, Bish and I were walking around searching for the table where we staged the comeback and realized that Treasure Island had shifted things around, added a few slot machines and dumped that section of tables. I actually felt a twinge of sadness about the whole thing. And if you don’t understand that … well, you’ve never been to Vegas.
10. Mailbag: Sports Czar is Fired Up, Ready to Go (2008)
Q: I would like to nominate you, Bill Simmons, for a new Sports Czar position in the Obama cabinet. It’s a position that’s needed in government, no? You’re the only one who can save this country from future sports missteps.
— Travis, Minneapolis
SG: Travis, I accept your nomination even though I lack the legal background, the authority and the connections. With 10 weeks to fine-tune my platform before President Obama officially takes office, here’s a rough draft of ideas I’m kicking around. Some of them have already been mentioned in this column; I just wanted to get everything in one place. Feel free to send me any additional suggestions. On the first week of 2009, I will post a complete platform for my bid to become the first Sports Czar.
Creations: A college football playoff system; a uniform boxing organization; a better trophy for the World Series; championship belts for the defending NBA champs that they must bring to every game; a hierarchy of alcoholic beverages for baseball celebrations (cheap beer, then good beer, then cheap champagne, then good champagne); an NBA expansion team in Seattle, effective for the 2010-11 season; a no-exception three-city rotation for the Super Bowl among New Orleans, Miami and San Diego; a full-length indoor basketball court in the White House, with all games involving Obama televised on NBA TV; a purple Masters-type sports coat for the winning March Madness coach (presented to him by last year’s coach as Jim Nantz orgasmically looks on); relegation for Major League Baseball (a 30-team league with the bottom two teams forced to move to Triple-A for a year).
New rules: No pregame show will be allowed to have more than four people (except for NBC’s “Football Night in America,” which will shift to a “Hollywood Squares” format); if you purchase a player’s jersey and that player is traded within 12 months, you can return the jersey and buy a new one for half price; incoming college freshman recruits don’t have to honor an NCAA scholarship if their sleaze-bag coach ditched them after he signed them; all professional owners either have to sell their team before they turn 80 or before they start looking like a sea monster; a forced agreement where the NFL Network is carried by all cable systems; baseball fans get to vote on the entrance music for their closers; golfers have to carry their own bags for the PGA Championship; the “Real World/Road Rules Challenge” will replace the Australian Open as tennis’ fourth major (with the top six male and female tennis players competing against MTV cast members); no more 20/20 flashes on sports radio shows (we move to a 30/30 flash); the U.S. Olympic basketball team cannot have anyone over 25 years old; David Halberstam’s “The Breaks of the Game” must be re-released; Chris Rose will be liberated from “The Best Damn Sports Show” and given a better show; Tropicana Field is immediately blown up; Isiah Thomas will replace Donna Orender as the commissioner of the WNBA, effective immediately.
11. Tale of the Tape (2004)
4. Most underrated part of the night: The ESPN Shootaround crew defending Artest on Friday night by saying that he diffused the situation with Ben Wallace by lying on the scorer’s table, then had every right to flip out once someone tossed a beer on him. First of all, Artest was lying on the table because he was being a jerk — there were 10 people between him and Big Ben, so there was more than a little gamesmanship in that move. He knew it would infuriate Wallace. Which it did. Second, who the heck would defiantly lie on a scorer’s table like that? Would Grant Hill have done that? KG? Dwyane Wade? Steve Nash? Anyone rational? And third, if you’re trying to tempt opposing fans to do something dumb, that’s the perfect place to do it — which is why Larry Brown was screaming at the refs to get him off there.
(Note: I’m not using the “He was Asking for It” defense like Pistons CEO Tom Wilson did Friday night, but at the same time, Artest should have known nothing good would happen once he intentionally blurred the barrier between the court and the fans. And it’s not like they were playing in Salt Lake City or the Meadowlands here — they were going against a heated rival that plays in the feistiest city in the league. Seriously, what were the odds of someone lobbing a beer on him? Even money?)
One more note on the Shootaround crew, which sided clearly with the players Friday night. Yes, the fans acted terribly. Yes, Artest was riled up from the Wallace altercation, so it’s understandable that he could have snapped when that blue cup nailed him. But why didn’t those four guys — John Saunders, Tim Legler, Stephen A. Smith and Greg Anthony — wonder if Artest went after the correct fan? And why wouldn’t you criticize Artest for being dumb enough to lie on that scorer’s table in the first place? Or at Stephen Jackson for acting like an instigator instead of a peacemaker?
12. Every podcast with Adam Carolla, but especially ones where they break down action movies or concoct fake film plots.
13. Air Quality Never Worse in NFL (2006)
I don’t know anyone who’s happy with the current state of NFL announcing. You can’t say things deteriorated this season because this has been an ongoing problem for more than 20 years, ever since the Cosell-Meredith-Gifford team peaked and John Madden exploded onto the scene, followed by the networks’ collectively deciding, “instead of accepting that these were two once-in-a-lifetime situations that cannot be recreated, we’re going to kill ourselves trying to recreate them.”
And they did. And they failed. And they keep failing.
The thing is, it’s not that hard to announce a football game. Consider my favorite broadcasting teams in 2006: Marv Albert and Boomer Esiason; Gus Johnson and Steve Tasker; Brad Nessler, Dick Vermeil and Ron Jaworski; Bryant Gumbel and Cris Collinsworth; and Ron Pitts and Jesse Palmer (who called last week’s Niners-Rams game). Why is this interesting? Well, Marv and Boomer are calling Monday night games on the radio for Westwood One. Nessler, Vermeil and Jaworski were thrown together for one night only (the second ESPN Monday Night Football game in Week 1). Johnson and Tasker always are buried doing the worst possible CBS games. Gumbel and Collinsworth are doing only six games and can’t even be found on some cable systems. And Palmer is best known for breaking the record of “most times ‘The Bachelor’ used the word ‘amazing’ ” on ABC three years ago.
None of this makes sense, right? Well, it actually does. Let’s look at those five teams again, because we can cover every problem in the current announcing climate just by mentioning what these guys are doing right …
14. Playing in Tiger’s Shadow (2006)
So what happened? Tiger responded by chipping in his third shot for a birdie. He even pumped his fist a little — not one of those “I just birdied the 16th at Augusta on Sunday” pumps, but a tiny “I didn’t want to lose to this schmuck from ESPN” pump.
“I just won,” he said.
“You didn’t win!” I objected. “I’m still putting for birdie.”
“You’re gonna miss it,” he said.
There wasn’t even an ounce of trash talk in his voice. He was utterly and completely convinced I would miss it. He knew I would miss it. This is an obscenely confident man. There’s something almost James Spader-y about him. It’s disorienting.
“It’s three feet,” I said. “I’m not missing it.”
I lined up the putt. Because of the glare, I could barely see the squiggly lines that indicate where the green breaks. I leaned forward. I was squinting. The Xbox controller felt as foreign as ever. Tiger was staring me down. Now I was worried I would miss it. And if that wasn’t enough, the greatest golfer alive was making little “yip-yip-yip-yip-yip” noises in the background to throw me off. He wanted me to miss it. He needed me to miss it.
I missed it.
15. Every guess-the-lines podcast with Cousin Sal.
16. Dazed & Confused by the NFL (2001)
I finally caved in 1998, but on my terms: It was like 2 in the morning, I stumbled across it 20 minutes into the movie, and had no idea what I was watching for the first half-hour. Eventually, I found out that no movie captures the mid-’70s better than “Dazed,” that surreal, goofy time between the Vietnam War and the MTV Era, when people did drugs with no repercussions, when unprotected sex was accepted and encouraged, when you could haze and humiliate people without the threat of a lawsuit, when people spent their nights driving around aimlessly, getting high, tossing down brews, knocking over mailboxes and hanging out in abandoned fields.
(And if you think “Dazed” went a little overboard, imagine life without the Internet, e-mail, cable TV, Blockbuster, fantasy sports, the fear of AIDS, the fear of DWIs, the fear of any consequences … and just a staggering amount of free time on your hands. Suddenly, it doesn’t seem so overboard, does it?)
If that’s not enough, no comedy ever used marijuana as a plot device better than “Dazed.” Let’s face it, marijuana has always been the finest untapped comedy resource in Hollywood. Lines that would never be funny under any other circumstances — like “Hey, man, watch the leather, man” — somehow become hysterically funny, simply because of the extenuating circumstances.
Hey, I’m just the messenger.Anyway, it took me five years to appreciate “Dazed,” but I’m finally on the bandwagon, and that’s all that counts. And since you guys voted for it, we’re handing out 35 of my favorite quotes and exchanges from “Dazed” to celebrate the relevant players, teams and characters from the 2001 NFL season. Almost seems appropriate, doesn’t it? This season left everyone a little dazed and confused. And it isn’t even over yet.
17. Daring to Ask the PED Question (2013)
I made a deal with myself a long time ago: My column needed to capture the things I discuss with my friends. Last week, I realized that wasn’t totally happening anymore. Something of a disconnect had emerged between my private conversations and the things I wrote for Grantland/ESPN. In essence, I had turned into two people. There’s Sports Fan Me, and there’s ESPN Me.
Sports Fan Me is candid, jaded, suspicious of everyone. Sports Fan Me repeatedly gets involved in arguments and e-mail chains centered on the question, “Do you think he’s cheating?” Sports Fan Me has Googled athletes’ heads and jawlines, studied their sizes, then mailed before/after pictures to friends with the subject heading, “CHECK THIS OUT.” Sports Fan Me has learned to trust his inner shit detector, to swiftly question any accomplishment that seems extraordinary or superhuman. Sports Fan Me hates that he feels this way, but he does, and there’s just no way around it.
ESPN Me sticks his head in the sand and doesn’t say anything.
ESPN Me occasionally pushes narratives that he doesn’t totally believe in.
18. The 13 Levels of Losing (2002)
Level II: The Stomach Punch
Definition: Now we’ve moved into rarefied territory, any roller-coaster game that ends with A) an opponent making a pivotal (sometimes improbable) play, or B) one of your guys failing in the clutch … usually ends with fans filing out after the game in stunned disbelief, if they can even move at all … always haunting, sometimes scarring … there are degrees to the Stomach Punch Game, depending on the situation … for instance, Sunday’s Kings-Lakers game and Monday’s Celts-Nets game featured agonizing endings, but they weren’t nearly as agonizing as Cleveland’s Earnest Byner fumbling against Denver when he was about two yards and 0.2 seconds away from sending the Browns to the Super Bowl).
Best Example: Wouldn’t it have to be the Titans-Bills playoff game from ’99, when the Bills kicked the alleged game-winning field goal in the final seconds, then Tennessee pulled off that miracle Wycheck-to-Dyson lateral play for the game-winning TD (on the kickoff, with no time remaining)? Not only was that a Top 5 Stomach Punch game, it doubled as the greatest Gambling Moment of all-time (since Tennessee ended up covering by a half-point). That was un-beeeeeeeeeeeeeee-lievable.
Personal Memory: Magic draining that baby sky hook to topple the Celts in Game 4 of the ’87 Finals, capping off a Celtics collapse and preceding Bird nearly saving the game at the buzzer (he missed a 25-foot prayer by about 1/100th of an inch). Fifteen years have passed and I still haven’t fully recovered from that chain of events. Unreal.
19. The Vengeance Scale (2004)
8.8 — Charles Bronson in every “Death Wish” movie.
(Seattle reader Monty has more: “In the first one, his wife gets murdered and his daughter gets raped, so he kills a bunch of lowlifes. In the sequel, his daughter gets raped (again) and commits suicide, so he kills a bunch of lowlifes. In the third one, his friend gets killed, so he kills a bunch of lowlifes, but this time it’s in Los Angeles, not New York. In the fourth one, his friend’s daughter overdoses, which is, again, bad news for lowlifes. And in the final one, his girlfriend gets killed, with predictable results. Well, by this time he’s killing people with soccer balls, not bullets, but it’s still vengeance.”)
8.9 — Jesse Owens winning four gold medals in Berlin (in front of Adolf Hitler) … Jackie Robinson’s career from 1947-1956.
9.0 — Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes burning down Andre Rison’s house … the Lorena Bobbit Era.
9.1 — Tupac Shakur recording “Hit ‘Em Up.”
(Note: In my book, the most devastating rap song of all-time. And you wonder why Pac was murdered. This made “Who Shot Ya?” look like it was written by James Ingram and Michael McDonald. Every line is crossed: This one has death threats, admissions of sleeping with other people’s wives, jokes about sickle cell, mama jokes and at least 100 F-bombs. I’m not kidding. And while we’re on the subject, “We ain’t singin’, we bringin’ drama – f— you and your motherf—– mama!” remains the greatest single moment in 2Pac history. And yes, I know I’m white.)
20. Going to the Mat for Pro Wrestling (2002)
10:15 — As Stone Cold battles Val Venis (former porn star) and Test (another one-name guy with no gimmick), Ross embraces the moment: “Some men have to win this match … for some men, in their own minds, in their own psyche, they have to win this match … and Austin is one of those men.” Amen, JR. Amen.
10:22 — Here comes Triple H, his first pay-per-view since suffering a serious leg injury last spring. The crowd goes legitimately nuts. Not only is Triple H one of the few genuine WWF stars, not only did he dump Chyna for Vince’s daughter in real life (what an upgrade!) … but he’s so jacked that it looks like he’s wearing one of the old Hans and Franz costumes. Now here’s a guy you wouldn’t want to accidentally rear end at a stoplight.
10:24 — After a tense, prolonged staredown, Austin and HHH start trading punches when the next entrant — The Hurricane (a mock superhero in one of the four or five worst gimmicks ever) — comes running in for two seconds, then gets tossed out. That made me laugh out loud. Nothing beats a third-tier wrestler getting summarily disposed in the Rumble in two seconds. You can’t put a price on this kind of fun.
10:28 — Whoa! Entrant No. 25 is this year’s token washed-up former star … Mr. Perfect, Curt Hennig! Last week, Perfect was probably wrestling at a shopping mall; now he’s battling Stone Cold and Triple H on a live pay-per-view. I’m speechless. Even Jim Ross was so stunned that he couldn’t deliver his trademark, “Wait a second, what’s that? Good God! That’s Mr. Perfect’s music!” properly.
10:38 — Let’s fast-forward to the final five entrances — Kurt Angle (a bad guy this week); the Big Show (the Shawn Kemp of the WWF, in terms of unrealized potential and weight problems); Kane (the fire-throwing, mask-wearing big guy who hasn’t wrestled a watchable match in his life); Rob Van Dam (an electric, high-flying guy who can’t give a good interview to save his life); and Booker T (a cross between Cyrus from “The Warriors” and Ray Lewis).
21. An Idiot’s Guide to the Gold Club Trial (2007)*
What were the two greatest moments of the trial that involved Patrick Ewing?
1. Ex club-manager Deborah Pinson testified that she inadvertently walked into a room where a dancer was performing oral sex on Ewing. When she complained to Kaplan, he allegedly called her stupid and added, “These are my friends. You won’t be complaining when we’re sitting in the front row of Madison Square Garden.”(So that’s how you get into the front row at MSG, huh?)
2. Ewing testified that he received complimentary VIP rooms, dancers and sexual favors on two separate occasions — both times he received oral sex while Kaplan and Sicignano looked on (yukkkk). According to Ewing, “The girls danced, started fondling me, I got aroused, they performed oral sex. I hung around a little bit and talked to them, then I left.”
*This was an egregious omission, and I’ve added after some quick feedback.