Friday, December 17, 2010

Oh, you mean Ray Ray?

With Christmas chopping at us every waking hour and now just single digits away, every year the writers here at like to gather around the yuletide log, sip our energy drinks and reflect on sports in a nostalgic, picturesque sort of way. Of course by writers, I really am just referring to myself, and since this website is not even a year old I cannot really say "every year the writers blah blah blah" because everything I say is in season one anyhow. But I am sure my faithful readers out there (all three of you) will not mind as I paint this column to be more than it actually is. Tis' the season and all. We were even going to send out Christmas cards to the readers this year but when the financial committee met together on Monday (again, financial committee = just me), it was decided that Christmas cards did not fit the budget. It should come as no surprise to find out, the financial committee was in utter shock and disbelief when they discovered there was not even "ah" budget, let alone a budget found lacking that would afford sending out holiday greeting cards. The writers of this website send their deepest apologies.

Apologies aside, there is still plenty to talk about. Yesterday, my buddy Brett texted me to see if I had been noticing how insane Raymond Felton has been playing since landing in New York. 18 points and 9 dimes a game; all career highs. Unless you play fantasy basketball or you are a Knicks fan, which Brett and I are not--I love my Sacramento Kings and Brett likes his Seattle Sup... I mean... a team no longer in existence--you would probably not know about our boy Raymond Felton. You see a few years back Brett and I decided we were going to play an entire of season of NBA 2K5 on the 360. We created our own characters, not 99 in every attribute, but normal players, like 72-74 overall.

Brett's character was a SG named Darko Papodopilis and Darko was a little white chocolate on the court. He made Allen Iverson's game attire seam plain by contrast. He had a nice step back three a la Jimmer Fredette (before there was a Jimmer Fredette). I made a huge, black PF named Preston Parish. He was built like Dwight Howard, played mean like Karl Malone, rebounded like Charles Barkley and rocked the #91 like Dennis Rodman. After we made our characters we had them drafted by the Charlotte Bobcats because they would be the stars of the team from the get-go. The Bobcat lineup consisted of Emeka Okafor at center, Parish at power forward, Gerald Wallace at small forward, Papodopilis at shooting guard, and the aforementioned Raymond Felton at point guard. Brevin Knight was the default PG, but we always elected to play Felton because of his stealing capabilities.

We start the season like 7-and-1, and we had agreed that if we lost then we were not going to restart the game but rather take it like a man. The next five games however we lost every single one. It got to the point we were kind of pissed at the other person. Like it was real life or something. So we get to the Boston Celtics and Paul Pierce destroys us. Part of my real life hate towards Pierce is attributed to our NBA season we played on the X-Box. Having lost five games in a row and tensions already higher than they should be, we were so upset, we broke our rule of never resetting the game due to a defeat. We play the Celtics again and lose. Reset. Lose again. Reset. Lose yet again; Paul Pierce cannot be contained. Parish is fouling out of games, Papodopilis is bricking everything, Okafor cannot get a defensive rebound to save his life. Things are looking grim. We start another game and lose.

Brett looks at me and says, "If we play this one more time and lose, I'm breaking this game in half."

Me, "I'm breaking it in half right now."

"One more game, and then we'll break it."

"Let's do this."

The game starts and it is a playoff atmosphere. The refs are letting 'em play, its getting dirty down low, guys are making huge shots, and the game is close. We go up by seven with about 1:14 left to play. Celtics ball. Our D steps it up and the shot clock is winding down until Paul Pierce hits a fall-a-way, and gets fouled by Darko. That's his sixth, he's done. Piece makes the free-throw and it is Bobcat's ball, we're up by 3. Ensuing play, Pierce steals the ball, and jacks up a pull-up three. Of course it goes in. I effing hate Paul Pierce more than anything. Brett and I have stopped talking at this point. There are about 37 second left in the game. We decide to do a 2-for-1, but Emeka Suck-a-for bricks an open layup.

(Note: You're probably saying to yourself, "This is a lot of detail, almost too much for a video game." Well, you know what, at the time is was huge deal. I've never been more upset over a game than I was while playing this one. The moment is burned in to my mind. Lay off me.)

Celtics get the rebound, milk the clock and Ricky Davis knocks down a mid-range jumper. So to recap, we were up by 7, had the game in the bag, and suddenly we are down by 2 with .7 seconds left. We call a timeout, advance the ball to half court and pause the game.

"Un-bleeping-believable," say Brett.

".....," I sit brooding.

"(deep sigh),"

"Let's just gets this over with."

We inbound the ball (by the way, it is like 3 or 4 in morning and people are sound asleep) to Raymond Felton. Darko is by far the teams best 3-point shooter and he has fouled out, and is sitting on the bench. Felton was like a 67 or maybe a 68 when it came to shooting threes. If you are video-game-player-rating illiterate, 67-68 is not that good. Another thing to be noted is Brett always took the teams three's too, because when you shoot them you have to time the release of the button at the height of the shot to improve the accuracy and he was always better at then I.

Because Preston Parish was my guy and played the PF position, by default I always inbounded the ball, but whenever you called a timeout, the makers of the NBA 2K games had some algorithm which would switch the person inbounding the ball from Player A to Player B. We only realize this is happening as the ball is in the air on the inbound. Looks like I will be the one shooting. Felton is two, maybe three, steps past half court. Brett drops his controller is disgust/defeat. I barely get this shot off before the buzzer sounds. Swish.


It was like winning the lottery, but winning it on MTVs Silent Library. Brett runs out of the room and when he runs back in he is doing the Jordan fist pump from when Jordan hit the game winner against the Cavs, and I'm jumping up and down like an idiot. Watch any cheerleader on the sideline from any game winning shot or touchdown on Youtube, and you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. We watched the replay of it over and over for at least 20 minutes and then talked about it for the next two weeks. Raymond Felton sealed his legacy forever to me that night in Brett's basement. To some Raymond Felton came out of nowhere this year, but Brett and I have known about him for five years.

What has come out of nowhere, to me at least, is Seattle possibly getting a basketball team again. I knew about the NBA purchasing the New Orleans Hornets, but knew nothing about Microsoft CEO, Steve Ballmer, selling 1.3 billion dollars worth of shares in the beginning of November. One of the side effects of having not lived in the Pacific Northwest for the last 4 years. Apparently, Ballmer was one of the main people in opposition of the Seattle Supersonics moving to Oklahoma City. With the NBA buying New Orleans, and the Hornets on pace to NOT meet to mandatory two-year attendance quota, perhaps getting the Supe's back in the 206 is right around the corner. Why else would you liquidate over a BILLION dollars of shares? Where there is smoke, there is often fire.

There is also some smoke about the Sacramento Kings possibly being the team that moves to Seattle. The Kings are in the midst of stomping their feet because the city does not want to build them a new arena. I am partially torn about this. If the Kings did in fact move and become the Seattle Kings or whatever, one half of me would be overjoyed.

There is something fun about following the team from where you grew up. I get this feeling with the Mariners. With Seahawks? Yeah, right! My brother calls them the Seachickens. I'll never root for them. The Supersonics were kind of a middle ground. I never really followed/liked the Sonics when I was growing up. That was during Shawn Kemp and Gary Payton's heyday, but that was also prime Michael Jordan time. No kid my age, followed any other team but the Bulls. To say the least, it was easy for me not to follow them. When they drafted Kevin Durant I found myself checking in on them. I even went ahead and bought Durant Sonics home jersey. I felt a tiny bit of Sonic pride. Maybe that pride grew inside because I no longer lived in Washington and on sub-concious level I yearned for connections. Who knows? When the team was hijacked to Oklahoma, a small part of me felt sad. To get a team back there would be cool, and to have the team be MY team (Kings) would be awesome. But therein lies the dichotomy.

I do not want to lose the SACRAMENTO Kings. If they moved to Seattle, my team would die. Nobody would want that. I love my purple, black and white Kings and do not want them any other way. When I tell people that I am a Kings fan, I want them to say, "Sacramento huh?" instead of "Seattle huh?". I have noticed something peculiar about being a Kings fan too. Anytime I tell people I am a Mariners fans (in addition to being a Red Sox fan) they will always ask me if I grew up there. When I tell them I like the Kings, people always ask why and never if I grew up there. It is one of those weird mysteries. I do not want to lose that. I take pride in my Sacramento fanship. I want them to stay put. In the end I believe they will. The Hornets are more likely to end up in the Pac-Nor then the Kings.

In other sports news how bout them Heat? 19-and-8 with a 10-game win streak. This is the part where I say "I told you to chill the freak out." To baseball, we have the have a couple of big offseason signings. The Sox got Crawford for $142 million. If you remember on my Christmas sport's wish list I had said I wanted him at a cheap price. Anything under 160 I considered cheap. A win. The Philadelphia Phillies reclaimed Cliff Lee to the tune of $120 millions dollars. Now their pitching rotation boasts Roy Halladay, Cliff Lee, Cole Hamels and Roy Oswalt. Three out of those four players, made my version of the All-Star game this last July: found here. Oh boy. So basically we're just fighting for second place (laughing nervously, staring off in to nothingness, face turning to a shade of shale gray).

Speaking of shale gray, the Seattle Sounders FC unveiled a new kit for the 2011 soccer season. The Sounders easily have the tightest jerseys and I don't just say that because I'm a homer. They really do. Brett claims the new Vancouver Whitecaps take the cake, and I like the their white home kit, but the blue is bland and does not measure up to Seattle's green. And since we're talking about jersey's... I LOVE Oregon's National Championship game set-up and I could care less if I am the only one. It's gangster. Carbon fiber helmets, are you kidding me?!! Filthy, just filthy. Everybody who claims they're awful is just a hater.

The only thing left to talk about, is how hot Tony Romo's, Candice Crawford, fiancee is. Wow. Obviously she surpasses Jessica Simpson and she edges out Carrie Underwood, but the real quest is this: Is she English Premier League girlfriend/wife caliber? That is the bar every athlete aims for, is it not? This needs to be discussed. I know I am not the only one struggling to find the answer. I cannot make up my mind. I'm on the fence. Depending on how offended my wife gets when I mention her and we Google her pictures together, will really be the deciding factor if Crawford cracks in the EPL barrier. But before I completely bury myself any further while trying to tackle to tough issues that press on our minds, let the record clearly show that no women will ever surpass the gorgeousness of my wife, and any discussions on the physical appeal of any women on this website, or otherwise, will exclude the comparison of any said person and my wife, as including my wife in deducting the attractiveness of another women, is clearly not fair, as my wife will win hands down any and every time. I would also like to mention that I love her very much, and truly appreciate the gift that it is, to be able to sleep next to her in our nice comfy bed and not the couch.

Oh boy... I'm screwed. I'm just gonna quit now. Happy Holidays everyone.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

John Hughes & Christmas

What does John Hughes and Christmas have to do with sports? You mean other than the love I have for Christmas and movies and then combining the two? Nothing. But the man sure can make the hell out of a Christmas movie(s). Enjoy a sports-less, sports column in tribute to the season.

Here at the Hang in There Sports website, we love quoting movies whenever we can. We especially love to quote some movies more than others. Below is another scene from one of my favorite movies, Dogma (edited for the PG readers), which pays tribute to John Hughes:

Bethany (Linda Fiorentino): McHenry is pretty far from Jersey, might I ask what brings you guys to Illinois?

Jay (Jason Mewes): Some guy named John Hughes.

Bethany: "16 Candles" John Hughes?

Jay: You know him too? That guy. Made this flick "16 Candles" right? Not bad: it's got girls in it, but no action. Of course Ebert over here don't give a crap about that stuff cause he's all in love with this John Hughes guy and rents every one of his movies. The "Breakfast Club" all these stupid kids actually show up to detention. "Weird Science" where this one chick wants to take off her gear and get down, but aw, no she don't cause it's a PG movie. And then there's "Pretty In Pink" which I can't watch with this tubby guy any more, because every time we get to the part where the red head hooks up with her dream guy, he starts sobbin' like a little eight-year-old with a skinned knee and stuff. And nothing is worse then watching a fat man weep.

(Wow, I had to edit that a lot more than I thought) Moving on.

Last night I finished watching one of the greatest movies ever made: Home Alone. It was likely my 97th viewing; I love it that much. “Ninety-seven?” you say. "Why such a small number for a movie you proclaim to love so much?" For your information, watching a movie ninety-seven times is a BUNCH. Everybody likes to throw around 1,000 or 1,000,000 but I think if you really want to brag about how much you’ve done something—especially when the topic relates to how many times you’ve seen a feature film—then throw out the real number. I stand proudly by mine. Good ‘ole ninety-seven.

Think about it, Home Alone released, in theaters, November 1990 and hit VHS later that next year. Watching a movie ninety-seven times over a nineteen-year span is an average of five times a year. Sounds about right. Unless I catch it on TV, I probably won’t see it again this year. I still love it, but the luster of being twenty years older is responsible for the dip in views. In 1991 I was seven or eight years old and I distinctly remember watching it for the first time over at Andrew Dyer’s house. The feeling of excitement as the tape was put in the VCR and magic of watching the previews is a feeling I wish I was able to still experience. To this day, I continue to quote the “Got a Pepsi for me?” line from the Pepsi ad before the movie. Some people get it, others do not. Funny how certain things are burned in to your memory.

To me, Home Alone has stood the test of time: it will never get old. Having said that, last night was the first time I noticed some of the gaping holes in the movie. Even when I watched it last year, these thoughts never crossed my mind.

Like, when the McCallister’s get to Paris and phone back to their hometown police department, why do the police take the issue so non-chalantly? Did the police department really have nothing better to do than sloppily eat donuts and wrap Christmas presents? Or when the officer went to the house and Kevin was hiding under the bed not answering, did the department really feel fine with looking in a few windows and scoffing, “There’s no one here, tell that lady to count her kids again”? I’ve seen plenty of episodes of Law & Order to know this would never fly. As a kid though, I completely buy the scenario.

There is more. As soon as Harry and Marv found out Kevin was home alone and Kevin overheard they were planning to come back at nine o’clock, why didn’t he just walk to the police station? He had time to walk to a Santa Claus exhibit in town, go to Christmas Eve mass, walk all the way back home, draw a super in depth bugler plan with crayons (raise your hand if you made one of those) and then make the most delicious looking plate of Mac n’ Cheese—all before the clock struck 9 PM. Or how about at the end when Old Man Marley knocks Harry and Marv out with a snow shovel and takes Kevin outside before the police arrive—how did the police not discover that Kevin was home alone. Winnetka, Illinois clearly has the worst police force in the world. The good thing however, is even though I noticed these plot holes, the movie still plays fantastically and is not ruined in any way, shape, or form (for me at least).

In the spirit of Home Alone and talking about Christmas movies, here is My Best Christmas Movies of All-time:

10. Jingle All the Way (1996)

This makes the Top-10 solely because the movie captures the essence of the captive power of commercial advertising. I cannot even list the amount of items I coveted between 1988 and 1995. The Turboman Doll represented them all. Plus it had Sinbad in it.

9. Miracle of 34th Street (1994)

My little sister and I watched the crap out of this one. My favorite part was when Dylan McDermott proved that Santa Claus existed because the United States puts ‘IN GOD WE TRUST’ on all of our currency. I love the cleverness of it. Using the legal system to prove that Santa Claus is real.

8. The Santa Clause (1994)
7. Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964)

The best character in the movie, hands down is Cornelius. The man rolls with a pack of sled dogs, strong enough to take down the Abominable Snowman. But the best part is his method for foraging for silver and gold: throwing a pick ax in to the air, letting in land, pulling it from the ground and then licking the tip. Foolproof. How could anyone NOT find gold? (Raise your hand again if you did this at some point in your childhood)

6. Elf (2003)
5. Christmas Vacation (1989)

Two most favorite lines from the movie:

(1) Totally engulfed by the drop dead gorgeous mall sales-woman “Can’t see the line can you Russ?”

(2) “Hey! If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head. And I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, d---less, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey s--- he is! Hallelujah! Holy s---! Where's the Tylenol?”

4. Mickey’s Christmas Carol (1983)

It is the earliest memory I have of watching Christmas movies. I watched the new one, with Jim Carrey, and it was downright frightening. Reading the book is on my to-do list.

3. It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)


2. White Christmas (1954)

Even more classic. I must watch this on Christmas Eve without fail. It is a Fish Family Tradition.

1. Home Alone (1990)

Some of the honorable mentions go out to A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965), How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1966), The Grinch (2000) and last but not least A Christmas Story (1983).

A lot of people I know LOVE A Christmas Story, but if I am honest with myself, I am not one of those people. Try as I may, I cannot put my finger on the exact reason why I am not one of them. Something to do with the color, the photography or feel of the movie doesn’t quite sit right. It’s weird, I know. I don’t trash it and I appreciate it for being a classic. TNT plays it for 24 straight hours every year for heaven’s sake, but I honestly would watch any other movie on my list before it. Hate me, but I do not like it for me. I guess I am just one of those people.

OK… I lied.

Lied about not writing about sports (seriously A Christmas Story is not in my Top-10). I just realized I can make a best Christmas movie list, than I can very well make a sports Christmas list. Readysetgo.

- I want the Red Sox to sign Carl Crawford, but not for a crazy amount because of the 7-year $126 million dollar Jayson Werth contract. Did you know, with Jayson’s new contract he could spend $30,000 dollars a day—365 days a year—and still have seven million dollars left over from the eighteen million he will make each year?

- I’d like the Sacramento Kings to tank for one more year and get that third piece they need to return to greatness. A few weeks ago I saw them against the Jazz and Demarcus Cousins is going to be legit. Maybe not Blake Griffin legit, but legit all the same. Imagine Cousins, Evans and Player-to-be-named-later. Maybe even trade the draft pick for someone. Who knows. Look out! Kings BABY!

- I hope Dez Bryant’s body will heal and somehow make him better like in Rookie of the Year. Also I want to be able to get him for $7 dollars again, like I did in this year’s draft.

- I want Oregon to win the BCS National Championship, Cam Newton to still go #1 in the NFL draft and have no other teams jumping their conference ship. It’s so 2-months ago.

- And I want a brand new Bugatti Veyron Super Sport for free. Even in the same color as the FIFA officials chose when they sent the games to Qatar.

Let that last one marinate as my final thought.

Merry Christmas.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Calming the Uproars

“Any time you can hold a World Cup in a hot Middle East country that's smaller than Connecticut + has no soccer tradition, you have to do it.”

- Bill Simmons via Twitter

For those of you who have been living under a rock—or if you belong to sixty percent of Americans who do not care about soccer—yesterday the world found out where the 2018 and 2022 World Cups’ will be held. The United States was hoping to have the Cup held in the states in ’22 until FIFA punk’d us, and went with Qatar.

Mmhmm, I said Qatar.

Where is Qatar? Truth is, nobody really knows. I had to Google Earth it myself. You would have more of an impact if the games were held on Antarctica. Seriously, I am not able to distinguish between the two. Both are ludicrous. My buddy Brett and I were texting about this back and forth yesterday. We agreed a few key points:

(A) Qatar has NEVER even qualified for a World Cup. They have zero soccer tradition.

(B) After the finally game of the tournament those incredibly gigantic and expensive air-conditioned stadiums will not even get used. (I’ve written about stadium costs before)

(C) If FIFA was not going to give the games to the United States, they should have gone to Australia

There has also been a ton of speculation over money. Qatar has dumb amounts of money. According to British columnist, Brian Whitaker, apart from substantial amounts of oil, it's the world's largest supplier of liquefied natural gas and has the world's third-largest natural gas reserves – all for a population of only 1.5 million. Did money play a role in it? Probably, but who cares? There is nothing you or I can do expect whine about it. When I hear a stat like that, I envision the scene with the Sheik in the movie 2012 purchasing admission to the end-of-days arks:

Well-dressed English banker: Has His Highness had an opportunity to study the dossier?

Crazy rich Arab: You must understand, I have a very big family, Mr...?

Banker: Isaacs.

Arab: One billion dollars is a lot of money.

Banker: I'm afraid the amount is in euros, Your Highness.

A billion dollars for PER spot on one of the arks. Of course later in the movie we see the Sheik board an Ark with all of his wives with him and 30+ kids. As far as I am concerned, in Qatar, guys like that are dime of dozen. Money bought/brought the World Cup to Qatar. I’m over it already. I’d rather win a World Cup than host one. Besides, yesterday marked LeBron’s first trip back to Cleveland.

38 points, 8 assists, 5 boards and zero turnovers in just 30 minutes played. Suck it Cleveland. Yes, I do think that you have right to feel pissed off with the way Lebron left, but I have said it before and I’ll say it again: you owe LeBron James E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. Your freaking team was absolutely garbage. Every positive thing you were able to reap as a Cavaliers fan from 2003 to 2010 is owed solely to him. Be thankful. Before the game started I told E, “Hey, I hope Miami goes out there and hangs 120 on them. I want Lebron to drop 40.” And they almost did.

James was two shy from 40 and at one point Miami was up by as many as 38. Final score was 118-90. Cavs fans, instead of wear t-shirts that way ‘VICTIM’ and booing like the haggard woman from The Princess Bride, you should be forming LeBron James tribute bands where you cover one song, and that song is Led Zeppelin’s Thank You. Get over yourselves already. Why didn’t you boo Zydrunas Ilgauskas? Remember, he left you too.

LeBron James, is first or foremost—an NBA basketball player. That is his chosen and God-given profession. Within that profession, one has two main objectives that come about all other. An NBA player’s declaration of intent if you will. In order, they are as follows:

One: Win an NBA Championship(s)
Two: Make money

If I am The Artist Formally Known as 23, why in the hell would I say in Cleveland? Because a there are Cavaliers fans that like me? Yeah. Right! I am bouncing my talented self out of there as quickly as possible. Anybody that tries to tell me LeBron had a better opportunity to accomplish the above mentioned items in Cleveland is a delusional liar. I admit, that given LeBron’s talent, had he stayed in Ohio for the rest of his career, then Cleveland would have landed a title. But not a plethora of them; probably just one. It is his job to wins those. Why jump on the guys back because playing in Miami with Dwayne Wade and Chris Bosh makes it easier to get a title?

For example:

I am a businessman, and lets say my chosen business is architecture. I work at a firm that designs skyscrapers. I am a really talented architect and I get paid lots of money for the buildings I design and build, because there is nobody else in my industry that can do the things I do, the way I do. There are also other talented and well-paid architects out there. Some people really like me and the buildings I create; but others like different architects that live and build skyscrapers in different cities. Every year I work my very best at my firm, in hopes we I can win the Architectural Firm of the Year award and build the best skyscraper in the country. I work so hard that I come really, really close a couple of times, but it seems that each year the firms in Los Angeles, Boston and San Antonio win the award and build the best building. My firm has tried to bring guys in to support my efforts but they are that good. Semi-talented or some washed-up name. It does not work. My contract with the firm is approaching the end and I now have a couple of options:


Stay with my current firm and supporting cast and get the biggest contract in the architecture world. Hope for the best that my current situation—which hasn’t worked in helping achieve my goals—will suddenly change.


Leave my current firm and try a different one that is in a better market for building skyscrapers. I get paid less although any income I incur, cannot be taxed. I get to work with some colleagues whose talent levels are leaps and bounds better than anyone in my current firm. Winning the AF of the Year will be way easier.

No businessperson would choose option one over option two. Sorry. Lebron James is not a traitor, a quitter or any other word you can think to degrade him with. He is one word: smart.

I am also sick of the sidekick, little brother comparisons, the trade Bosh scenarios. THE ‘10-11 NBA SEASON IS ONLY 20 GAMES OLD! CHILL OUT! But I must admit, I did have one thought that really made my brow rise.

Could LeBron James turn in to a Karl Malone and the Heat just run two power forwards instead having someone play center? Wade can still the creative shooting guard he has always been and next summer when the Heat draft Jimmer Fredette in the late first-round, then they’ll have crafty-assist-demon-a-la-John-Stockton-I-can-score-when-I-want-to-if-I-need-to point guard. Think about it. Malone and James have the same build. Malone is 6’ 9” and about 260. James is 6’ 8” 250. Of course this would take away from crazy #6 highlight reels but you cannot deny that he would be an absolute beast underneath the hoop like Malone. I’m just saying…

Quick NFL thought before I wrap this up:

Do the St. Louis Rams make an offer for Randy Moss this off-season? There is zero percent chance Moss stays in Tennessee after this season ends. I want someone to tell me why this would not work. I think Bradford might be the next Peyton Manning. You can quote me.

Peyton Manning’s rookie season (16 games):

3700 Passing Yards
28 Touchdowns
28 Interceptions
71.2 Passer Rating

Sam Bradford’s rookie season (Though 11 games):

2400 Passing yards
17 touchdowns
9 Interceptions
82.0 Passer Rating

Bradford is on pace for 3600 yards, 25 TDs, 9 picks. The similarities are there. Moss needs an great QB to be good. Bradford is/going-to-be that guy.

Last but not least, my wife suggested I tell Boise State kicker, Kyle Brotzman, to "hang in there" given the name of my website. Hang in there Kyle. And don't try and hang yourself... you might miss the chair when you try and kick it out from underneath you.