Flipside Sports

We're Out

2008-09-08T09:49:00.009-04:00

~~We went back home. http://www.flipsidesports.net/. Update your bookmarks accordingly.~~

T'was a good run. Onward & upward, Flipsidiots. We'll always have Cadillac Anderson, the Bedford All-Nighter, and the shared misery of The Mike Davis Years.

El fin.

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Thursday Night Rocktitude

2008-07-31T09:25:00.010-04:00

In case you've been considering having your corneas torched into a fine, chalky powder ... well, tonight's your lucky night. It's "Live Band Karaoke" at the Vogue. Which technically begins at 8:00 — unless, of course, you're generally terrified of singing in public but just can't resist the splendor that is Eddy Grant's "Electric Avenue" because that song fucking changed my life at an early age. In which case, pre-karaoke ether shots begin promptly at 11:30 AM. In my office.

Don't go because I'm telling you to. Go because you'll get to hurl damaging insults and projectiles at the drunken anesthesiologist who gets up there and butchers "Beast of Burden." Go because that's what Americans do. Go because you haven't genuinely hit it hard on a Thursday night since college. But mainly, go because it's for a good cause. The Julian Center, where all the proceeds are going.

And make sure to introduce yourself to Speedway Williams. He'll be the 6'7" Doug Decenzo look-alike wearing mirror-lensed Ray Bans and a smoking jacket.
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Friday Afternoon Randomness (Hall & Oates Edition)

2008-07-25T12:50:00.004-04:00

[On the set of the "She's Gone" video -- February 4, 1973]

John Oates: Let's make us a video! What do you got in store for us here?? African lions and shit-stomping fireworks and bullet trains and the like???

Producer: Two barcaloungers, some Monopoly money, a broken fishing rod, and a devil costume. I'm sorry, John. But the label only gave us a $17 budget. And we've only got this set for the next eight minutes. So we have to hurry. Let's start shooting.

John Oates: Shoot WHAT?!? We haven't rehearsed shit. Plus, I'm smack-fucking-dab in the middle of a six-day ether binge. I woke up in a Sacramento deli this morning. No fucking clue how I got there. And Daryl just ate three pounds of low-grade Canadian acid! He thinks he's a goddamn wheelbarrow right now! LOOK AT HIM!!! He can't even blink! How the fuck can we make a video?! This is bullshit! I thought we were just rehearsing today!!

Producer: I know. It sucks. But we're just going to have make do ... we have to wing it. Just sit in the chair and sing the song. Maybe throw the Monopoly money around at different intervals -- people like that kind of reckless shit. Just do your thing. I'll take care of the rest. We've got seven minutes left. I think we can pull this off. In fact, I think we can make magic here today, gentlemen.

John Oates: Goddamn right we can!! We're Hall and fucking Oates! Get up, Daryl!!! GET UP!!! And put your fucking robe on!!! Let's make some magic!

I Love You Earl Weaver

2008-07-02T20:08:00.004-04:00

Say what you will about the fiery little fucker, but don't say he wasn't one for the ages. Yeah, this has been around for awhile, but it never really gets old.

Meet the New Pacers (Vol. I)

2008-06-27T10:24:00.008-04:00

Greetings and salutations, Indianapolis. Or as they say in the Balkans, Bunã dzua. I am humbled and beholden to learn that I will soon join your fair bastion of Midwestern virtue.

I suppose you're here to ascertain a dollop about me, no? My blushes. Very well then.

[sips from snifter of Chivas Regal Royal Salute]

I am a high-seas sailor first, a scholar second, and a gentleman always ... I spend much of my summers engaged in archaeological digs in northern Ecuador ... I idolize Ayn Rand, Copernicus and Trey Anastasio ... I'm on the International Board for the Advancement of Solar Power ... my mother was a professional bullfighting protester from the south of Portugal, my father a molecular biologist at CERN ... I support a universal flat tax, but only conditionally ... I am skilled in the low post, but also in the diagnosis and treatment of left ventricular hypertrophy ... my secret, irresistible vice is Bavarian veal cutlets in a creamy cherry sauce (preferably with a stout, hickory-scented port) ... I disdain tomfoolery and dullards ... and finally, I compare my basketball prowess to an arthritic Robert Parrish.

I do not wish to speak of myself any further, lest I present myself as vainglorious and off-putting. We shall to grow to become familiar with each other in the weeks to come, of that I am sure.

Now, if you will excuse me, I must adjourn. As the Burmese theologians might say, Twáme naw. And may Peace be with you.

— Augustus Irwin ("Roy") Hibbert, IV

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See the Problem ... Fix the Problem

2008-06-20T10:47:00.006-04:00

A simple, common sense approach to problems, it seems, has gone the way of Goody's Headache Powder. And public hangings. There's too much over-thinking these days. Too much sensitivity. The goal isn't to necessarily fix the problem, per se. It's to fix the problem in a way that doesn't step on any toes. That doesn't offend anyone. And it's usually based in faggy physics and science and other complicated, world-of-academia shit.

That's why we're giving a big standing ovation to the hometown of Purdue University. They're fixing problems the old fashioned way: like a 6-year-old latchkey kid would.

'West Lafayette buys large anti-stench fan'

Kudos, West Lafayette City Council. Kudos. Really. Because most towns would have beat around the proverbial bush on such a matter. They'd waste entire public hearings jabbering on about fancy-pants solutions that may take years to implement. Not you.

Q: Our town continously smells like afterbirth and molded Funyuns. Been like that for decades. We're fed up. What should we do?

A: Fuck it. Let's buy a big-ass fan. Blow that stank westward. Next. .

You acknowledged the problem. You thought about it for a couple billionths of a second. And you acted. Decisively.

Take note, America.

Meet the New Sheriff of Crazyville

2008-06-18T00:06:00.017-04:00

Mayor: Do you solemnly swear to protect the whaleshit insane values, principles, and tenets of our beloved city, so help you God?

Garnett: [uprooting a nearby birch tree, a live possum sits atop his shoulder ... they're both eating cotton candy] FFFFFFUUUUUCCCCCKKK YEAHHHHHHHHHHH!!! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah! Certified, motherfuckers! Like Quincy motherfucking M.E.!!!! Oink oink oink oink oink oink oink oink oink oink oink oink!!!!!

Mayor: I hereby pronounce you Sheriff. Be well, friend.

Garnett: [says nothing ... gleefully leaps into a waiting hot air balloon ... once airborne, gives the double thumbs-up move while seductively licking the white-hot burner]

Mayor: God bless that man.
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Welcome Back Big Smooth

2008-06-10T12:19:00.005-04:00

You hired Perkins? Right on.

How could this possibly go bad?

My First Indy 500

2008-05-28T14:56:00.008-04:00

[Reprinted from "The Silent Pagoda" on IndyCar.com]

I moved to Indianapolis from New York City last July, when my wife started a job at the art museum here. It must be said that I wasn't terribly keen on Indianapolis. I grew up in Birmingham, Alabama, but my dad is from Indianapolis, and he invariably described it as "the Birmingham of the North." It was never my ambition to live in Birmingham, and I certainly did not wish to live in a colder version of it. So I made the move with some trepidation — sure, my living space quintupled and my expenses halved, but even so. Indianapolis. The Birmingham of the North.

Well, it turns out that I quite like Indianapolis. But in the year I've lived here, I've never felt entirely apart of the place. I bought a lawnmower. I watched some IU basketball games. I became employed by a highly reputable IndyCar.com blog. I even joined an IndyCar fantasy league this season in the hopes that I might connect to Indianapolis, but even so, it never felt quite like home.

Until, that is, I was standing in Turn 2, baseball cap in hand, oversize radio earphones around my neck, listening to Gomer Pyle sing "Back Home Again in Indiana." What was this odd feeling bursting forth from my breast? Was this ... pride? My God! A moonbeam o'er the water is casting a spell on me! Maybe it was the seven Bud Selects that had whet my whistle on the one-hour, four-mile bus trip to the parking lot, but there I was singing along, in love with the river Wabash and the smell of fresh-mown hay.

And it only got better from there. Because I grew up in Alabama, I'm a NASCAR fan, much to my Hoosier dad's chagrin. But when 11 perfectly formed rows of three roared past on that first lap, I realized what IndyCars have that NASCAR never can: gittyup. I couldn't catch my breath. And for the first laps, even after we sat down, I would half-jump out of my seat and point excitedly. Thank God everyone had their ear plugs in and radios turned up so no one heard me as I kept shouting, "They're passing! Passing!" It didn't matter if it was Kanaan winding his way toward the lead or the anchor-of-my-fantasy-team AJ Foyt IV passing Milka. The mere act of passing on this race track, in those cars, at that speed, struck me as miraculous — I had never imagined the complexity and courage required for passing while watching on television.

Also miraculous: They let you bring in coolers? Really? Full of beer? And sandwiches? And you can just sit there and watch Jaime Camera hit the wall three separate times in a single turn while peanut butter and/or jelly drips down your chin? Frankly, dear Pagoda dweller, the cooler was too much for me to handle. I stuffed mine full of beer and then felt compelled to drink all of them. There are men in this world who are capable of drinking right through a fine May afternoon, but I am not among them. During one of the many mid-race cautions, I found myself standing in a very long line so that I might eventually have the privilege of urinating into a trough alongside 30 other guys. So I called my wife.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"Amazing," I said. "They're passing! Every lap, someone passes someone else! It's amazing!"

"Are you drunk?" she asked.

"Yes, definitely," I answered. "I mean, this isn't the drunkest I've ever been. But it's the drunkest I've ever been at 2 PM."

And so it went. My fantasy team certainly did not perform well — Foyt caught fire; Briscoe made Danica stomp; and Wheldon faded at the end. I would have loved to see an Andretti win (an Andretti dressed like Indiana Jones, no less), or to see the scrappy Vitor Meira pull out a victory. It would have been great to see Sheckter there at the end, or one of the Champ Car guys. I like an underdog story, and neither Dixon nor his car was ever an underdog at this year's 500. But none of that mattered. As far as I'm concerned, it was the best 500 in history.

[John Green]

Soon to be THE MAN

2008-05-22T23:16:00.005-04:00

Only Jamal Crawford stands in his way now, and Flav is as good as gone. It's only a matter of time.
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My Perfect Indy 500

2008-05-22T14:32:00.007-04:00

[Reprinted from "The Silent Pagoda" on IndyCar.com]

I've attended my share of 500's. I'm not saying they weren't fun, because they were. I'm just saying they weren't perfect.

Until now.

This time? The wide-ranging power of the Pagoda — and the kick-ass media credential that the League so recklessly gave me — will ensure that this changes. It will ensure perfection.

Or so I dream.

My perfect Indy 500 will proceed as follows:

3:39 AM — Return home from Flipside's legendary pre-race party. Receive no admonishment from the missus regarding my late arrival. All's well.

3:42 — An in-home nurse — who IndyCar wisely hired for me, and who looks remarkably similar to Marisa Miller — hooks me up to six liters of intravenous fluid and various anesthetics. I ~~pass out~~ fall asleep peacefully, mid-transfusion.

6:15— Wake up refreshed and completely non-hungover. Eat left-over Porterhouse from Tony Kanaan's Friday-night cookout. Still delicious.

6:28 — Forgo shower. Opt for nurse-performed sponge bath. Drink the day's first two beers.

7:20 — My ride is here to take me out to the Speedway. My ride is a fully armed Harrier Jet.

7:21 — Arrive at the track. Demand to hover above lowly peasants stuck in gridlock traffic. Laugh menacingly at them and their archaic forms of transportation.

7:27 — Unleash several air-to-air Sidewinder missiles at the WTHR News Chopper. Not death strikes, obviously. But mere warning shots. ("Warning shots" with a ferocious jet trail, that is.) The helicopter pilot and Rich Van Wyk look genuinely paralyzed with fear. I can't stop laughing.

7:29 — Locate Lot 2, where I'm supposed to rendezvous with friends. Use all 38,000 pounds of thrust to vertically descend into the "Silent Pagoda/Maxim/Cheetah's Tailgate Party Presented by Stella Artois." Everything within a quarter-mile radius is either blown over or out-and-out disintegrated. Nervous, awestruck silence from the party goers ... followed quickly by cheering and general regrouping.

7:30 — The party resumes.

7:30 - 10:38 — Unimaginable debauchery. The real kind. The Maxim girls are simply out of control ... many farm creatures are ceremoniously slaughtered ... a three-story bong designed by I.M. Pei draws widespread critical acclaim ... and so forth and so on. Truthfully, 94% of the ongoings are probably not fit for print. Not here, at least. Moving on.

10:39 — Give a quick "Thanks for coming" to the tailgate's two Guests of Honor: Willy T. Ribbs and J.D. Salinger. I discretely tell Willy that "there's only ONE guest of honor in my book ... and I'm speaking to him." Willy nods his approval and calls us "like kin." I feel like I've been knighted.

10:46 — Take the Pagoda's official Delphi Safey Team Honda Ridgeline over to the garage area. I'm not driving, though. Gordon Johncock is. He's our designated driver for the day. He's good people.

10:49 — Immediately bump into Jack Arute. Quickly hammer-throw Arute out of the vicinity (much like Will Smith hammer-throws that beached whale in the "Hancock" movie trailer). Raucous applause ensues.

10:51 — Check in with Roger Penske. He mentions that he's been looking for me. I immediately assume he's here to ram an ice pick into my frontal lobe, "Goodfellas"-style. He's not. He says he's been following my legal career with great interest, and that he's impressed with my body of work. He offers me the job of Team Penske's in-house counsel. I accept, obviously. And then immediately bill him $2,600 for our little chat. He pays. In cash.

10:58 — Wander over to EJ Viso's garage. He's simultaneously snorting 8-balls and launching bottle rockets at his crewmen. I like the cut of his jib. He's going places.

11:02 — Danica worriedly asks why I didn't text her after I got home last night. Jesus. So clingy. Must. Get. Out.

11:03 — Bump into Tony Kanaan. Thank him for the cookout Friday night, as well as the custom-made fire suit and Tag Heuer watch he gave me. He responds that it was "no problem ... just a small gesture to the most hard-ass human I've ever known." He quickly resumes eating his pre-race meal: an adolescent coyote he tracked and killed earlier this morning.

11:09 — See Brian Barnhart. Order him to take me over to the red carpet in his golf cart. He says something about a "drivers' meeting" and how he's "already running behind schedule." I am not amused. I raise the back of my hand ominously, the universal sign for "I'm about to slap the disobedience out of you." He understands, tells me to get in.

11:11 — Drops me off at the red carpet, where the celebrities have been awaiting my arrival. I shove Bill Belichick face-first into an adjacent evergreen bush. Judith Light and I erupt into laughter, continue walking.

11:16 — Hit the V.I.P. buffet. Hard. Beef Wellington and gourmet breakfast taquitos and an endless bowl of Chili Cheese flavored Fritos. Alessandra Ambrosio keeps mentioning that she's a big fan of my writing, failing to realize that I'm trying to eat. She eventually becomes a bother with her shameless flirting. I show her my wedding ring and tell her that I'm happily married. She dejectedly responds — to nobody in particular — that "the brilliant and dashing ones always are."

11:59 — Adjourn to the "Press Room." High-five Joe Don Baker on the way out. The f--king Whammer. Spectacularly random and awesome.

12:02 PM — Enter the Press Room. Rick Reilly is quick to greet me:

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Reilly: I saw that you totally ripped off my "perfect day" bit from 10 years ago.
Me: So?
Reilly: So I just want you to know that whereas I invented the format, you refined it. Took it to new heights. It was a majestic piece. And damn you ... it made me realize that I'm forever the Antonio Salieri to your Amadaus Mozart.
Me: Yeah I know. Is there any beer in here?
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12:03 - 12:38 — Lots of schmoozing and beer drinking amongst the titans of journalism. Not for me, though. I'm drinking unhealthy quantities of Pacifico's and playing an arcade-sized "Galaga" off in the corner.

12:39 — Conquer "Galaga." Grow bored. Radio up to Race Control to "get this show on the road ... give me Jim Nabors and the green flag, post haste." Barnhart again reluctantly obliges.

12:41 — All pageantry comes to a stop. Nabors is hurriedly rushed out to the podium. He sings "Back Home Again in Indiana" marvelously, with aplomb and nobility. I shed a single proud tear.
12:44 — GREEN FLAG! GREEN FLAG! GREEN FLAG! A 24,000-horsepower stampede of unified badass blows down the front straightaway. Windows rattle. Goosebumps abound.

12:45 - 3:39 — 128 different lead changes. 90% of the turns involve cars going four-wide. Robin Miller and Curt Cavin meticulously explain every racing nuance to me, in real time. My dangerously high B.A.C. doesn't preclude me from obtaining a total comprehension of the sport. I become the racing f--king master.

3:41 — Final lap, lead pack roaring out of Turn 4. Tony Kanaan goes airborne over six cars as he crosses the finish line. He wins his first Indy 500 ... immediately unloads celebratory machine gun fire out of the cockpit. According to David McCullough — who's standing next to me — it's the single most fiercely awesome thirty-second stretch in American history. I concur.

3:42 — Begin post-race Pagoda recap.

3:47 — Submit finished post-race Pagoda recap.

3:49 — The Nobel Prize in Literature committee chairman calls. He's already heard "good things" regarding the recap. Would like to talk. Boooooring. I've got a party to attend.

4:03 — Gordon Johncock picks me up on Pit Road. We head to the "Silent Pagoda/Maxim/'Earth Wind & Fire' Tailgate After-Party Presented by Guiness." That policeman who rides his motorcycle while standing up escorts us to the affair. He's even more regal in person.

4:06 - 9:25 — Arrival. More debauchery. Gross, negligent, ancient Rome-type debauchery. The wildly, indisputably unprintable kind.

9:26 — My Harrier Jet arrives. Bid farewell to my friends and the ladies and Bob Sanders (who happened to stop by). While climbing into cockpit, I take Penske's cash and "make it rain" amongst the party goers. I immediately regret the decision. Financially unwise. Whatever. More where that came from. Commence vertical ascent.

9:27 — Land in my driveway. Thank the pilot and remorsefully explain why I have no cash to tip him. He says he doesn't accept tips anyway. Fantastic. It's been that type of day.

9:28 — Tuck in the kids. Kiss the wife. And bask in the glory of my perfect Indy 500.

[Roy Hobbson]

Talk to Chuck: Josef Fritzl Edition

2008-05-08T00:31:00.014-04:00

So I was talking with my broker the other day — just the usual small talk, you know ... how's the kids, how's the family, all that. And I'm all like, "life's good, bro ... just playing some golf, raping my daughter I keep chained up in the dungeon, living the dream." And he's all like, "What?" And then it dawns on me: this prick thinks I'm like, a monster or something.

[motioning off camera] Hold on, sweetie. I'll be there in a sec. Don't move or I swear to fucking God I will choke you out and stuff you back in your crate.

So, you know — I'm just wondering: who's side is he on here? I mean, he's MY broker. And yet, he doesn't give me any credit. Because c'mon, let's face it: I could've just killed my daughter and our seven little incestuous rape children and nobody would've been the wiser. But you know what? I didn't. I took the high road. And yet, from my broker — no love. Nothing. Zip. Nada. And I'M the monster??? Pfffft.

I don't know. It's just frustrating.

Welcome Back, Dominic Rhodes. Stay Away From Marvin.

2008-05-07T12:25:00.011-04:00

It's with mixed emotions that Naptown welcomes back Mr.-Should've-Been-Super Bowl-XLI-MVP Dominic Rhodes.

Will he bring back the glory of the Addai/Rhodes tandem that dominated the 2006 season? Or will he revert to his old ways of girlfriend-beating, drunk-driving, weed-smoking and pants-pissing that broke the hearts of Colts faithful? Let's hope it's the former, and let's pray that Marvin doesn't introduce him to the finer points of armor piercing Belgian Fabrique handguns.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the best part of this news for Colts fans: no more Kenton Keith.

31 Gun Salute

2008-05-06T19:14:00.001-04:00

An American visionary has passed. Irvine Robbins -- who put the "Robbins" in "Baskin-Robbins" -- was 90 years old.

"Frankly, I never met a flavor I didn't like," Robbins told The New York Times in 1973.

Nor they you, Mr. Robbins.

Friend or Foe: Catch Up Edition

2008-05-05T11:05:00.011-04:00

Becoming a father ... again: My wife delivered our second child on Tuesday. Which actually feels like eight weeks ago. I've lost all sense of time and what it feels like to rest. I'm unshaven and delirious. I'm living off congratulatory cupcakes and ventricle-shattering amounts of caffeine. I've accepted the fact that I will never again golf, even on the nicest of days. And our Seven Pounds of Fury continuously speaks in fluent tornado siren. But whatever. Friend. Oddly enough.

Marvin Harrison: A custom made, .50-caliber Belgium handgun? Seriously? What the hell, Marvin? Who are you ... Erwin Rommel? Danny Vermin? Maybe we should just tone down the exotic heavy weaponry. You're guarding a bar and a carwash. Not the Lost Ark. Jesus. Foe. As much as it pains me.

Learning to change a girl's diaper: Having changed thousands of diapers already, it shouldn't be a problem. What's the big deal? you say. How different could it be? Well fuck you. That's how different it could be. Because I'm used to the boy's diapers ... where what you see is what you get. See the problem, clean the problem, move on. But the girl's? Sweet fucking Desitin. Comparatively speaking, it's like cleaning out the vast Catacombs of St. Callixtus down there. More nooks and crannies and folds than Scottie Pippen's scalp. Foe. Damn you, complicated female anatomy.

NBA Playoffs: Mesmerizing. Just mesmerizing. And an unprecedented turnaround, really. Because the NBA -- as far as watchability -- has pulled off a real life Rod Tidwell. From unconscious and possibly paralyzed to instantly doing hand springs and hard-core break-dancing moves. Between the NBA's reemergence and Costco once again selling 8-pound boxes of Frosted Mini Wheats ... all's right with the world. Friend.

The remote key entry on our new car: I like the old one better. Much better. Click it once -- doors lock, alarm gets set, all in one quick (and discrete) move. So after I'd park at the seedy Village Pantry in Broad Ripple, the fierce looking hobos and winos meandering around the bus stop out front wouldn't care that the alarm was being activated. They'd know that I was simply locking my doors ... not necessarily judging them. They understood. They may be potentially violent homeless people ... but they're not morons. Which brings me to my new car. The one where I need a SECOND -- far less discrete -- maneuver to activate the alarm. Damn it all! Because it's painfully clear what I'm saying with this extraneous, albeit very needed move:

Yeah ... the doors ARE locked. You heard right. That's what the first, somewhat quiet beep indicated. But you know what? That's probably not gonna cut it. Not with you dressed in old paper mache and twine. I think I'll to take the extra precautions here. **BEEEEP BEEEEP** Uh-huh. That would be the alarm right there. It's on. Bask in my condescending whiteness, peasants.

Fuck you, Chevy. Thanks for making me look like an asshole and probably getting me stabbed. Foe.

My 38 trips to Target in the last three days: Do you know where the Cottonelle feminine wipes are? I do. In fact, I could go all Steve Williams and give you their exact yardage from the store entrance. And I could do it from memory. Same goes for nursing bras, nursing pads, Maxi pads, the Playstation 3 console (sweet, sweet respite!), Preparation H, and Pampers Newborn Swaddlers. Foe. A pox upon you, Target. You and your wide array of post-delivery products.

Kentucky Derby: Blah blah blah quarter post blah blah evil gay jockey blah blah blah dead horse on the track blah blah blah. Yawn. There's about zero things to like about horse racing. It's all so predictable. Nothing changes. Foe.

Post-delivery nonchalance: I get it. These people deliver lots and lots and lots of babies. They've seen it all, and it's old hat to them. Well guess what, Doc. IT'S NOT OLD HAT TO ME!!! I'm not really down with just leaving the placenta on the table as if it were a Kroger vegetable tray. Move the fucking thing!! Throw it away. Take it out for testing. I don't care. Do something. I mean, it's a sizable part of a human body. And it looks like a blood-soaked Goodyear radial. Holy Christ. The room is spinning again. Foe.

Tom Crean laying down the law at IU:

Here here, Coach. Well played. Friend. Damn near best friends. Holy shit this guy's fantastic.

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Bob Sanders Approves.

2008-04-27T16:22:00.005-04:00

Watch closlely as Marcus Howard -- the Colts' 5th round pick from the Georgia -- disables Colt Brennan in the Sugar Bowl. My God. Well done, Polian.

Oh, That's Rich!

2008-04-17T11:23:00.012-04:00

Yesterday, the United States Supreme Court upheld lethal injection as an accepted means of carrying out the death penalty. The Court rejected the argument that the "three-drug cocktail can cause excruciating pain in violation of the Constitution’s ban on cruel and unusual punishment."

You know what? A rusty bread knife wedged into your victim's trachea is pretty fucking painful too. And probably unconstitutional. But you don't hear her bitching about it.

Let's not kid ourselves here: this was a savvy, Unfrozen-Caveman-Lawer-ish argument in its subtle brilliance and humor. But it had little shot of winning. And it didn't win. They didn't buy it. Let's wrap this up, Foot Shackles. Give us the honorable wink-wink-I-tried move and keep a modicum of your self respect. Come now ... you can't really complain about a painful, unconstitutional death, can you? Now's no time for hypocrisy. Right? RIGHT?!

Hey, Stabby?! What say you, man? Can I have my wink-wink?

'Just terrible,' killer says of execution ruling

Holy fuck! It IS time for hypocrisy!!! Hot damn.

The hypocritical flood gates are hereby open:

'Just gutless,' Jermaine O'Neal says of Alfonso Soriano's mildly strained calf that will require 12 weeks of rehab.

'Just hideous,' Sheldon Williams says of that fucked up mutant Spartan from "300."

'Just not entertaining,' hockey says of ischemic bowel syndrome.

'Just not a good reflection on the city,' says the proposed legislative maneuver (to make "Truck Nuts" mandatory within Indianapolis) about the Indy Star.

'Just annoying,' Stacy Paetz says of Tanya Roberts' 17-hour "Tahiti Village" time share presentation.

'Just a weird look ... bollocks to that,' Gary Player says of the standard issue Lollipop Guild uniform.

'Just so needless and sad,' palsy says of WNBA.

'Just pandering to stupid people,' Laura Ingraham says of the Lotto system.

'Just too womanly,' bottle of lilac-scented Dove soap says of males who use that device -- when playing fetch with their dog -- that prevents them from touching a "slimy ball."

'Just overexposed," Darius Rucker says of the Red Sox playing on ESPN every 18 hours.

'Just not pleasing to listen to,' 1070 The Fan's Eddie White says of the screeching sounds of a bobcat being slowly electrocuted.

'Just dumb ... bad for the back,' mulching says of trying to dead-lift an Audi A6 on a bet.

'Just too contrived,' Jeremy Brilliant says of Dick Wolfsie's proposed stage name ("Cocksure J. Magnificence").

'Just go away ... nobody wants you here,' Lou Gehrig's Disease says of fake-professional bike riders on the Monon Trail who weave through throngs of people at 62 mph.

'Just way too fucking white,' Orin Hatch says of Brandt Snedeker, supernovas.

'Just let it go already ... it's not funny,' Tank McNamara says of this post.

And So Begins a New Era

2008-04-17T11:09:00.006-04:00

Tom Crean's first recruit at IU: Bobby Capobianco.

http://indiana.rivals.com/content.asp?CID=798464

Fast forward to 2:10 for the only highlights I could find on YouTube.

Unconfirmed sources report that Bruce Weber was too busy approving transfer requests and scholarship releases to comment on the signing.

Yep...Still Assholes

2008-04-16T05:27:00.010-04:00

Are you boys in the Bronx really this stupid? Apparently so.

"The Yankees had only one request, and that is that we not touch their grass," said Mark Ackermann, who is running the Office of the Papal Visit for the New York archdiocese. "The All-Star game will be there this year and of course we're all confident that the World Series will be there as well. So the Yankees need to keep it in good shape and we've been most respectful of that."

Are you really so fucking arrogant and concerned that the Popemobile is going to tear up your precious turf? As of right now the Yankees are 8-7 B.P. (Before Pope) I hope this piece of shit organization gets napalmed the rest of the year.

I'm talking plagues of locusts and whatnot. I hope a rash of injuries descends on the Bronx this summer like no season before it. And not because I really care about organized religion, mind you. Just that when people basically extend their middle finger to persons of the stature of the Pope, you deserve swift retribution.

Stay off the lawn? Holy fuck, Yankees. This is precisely why everyone hates you and will continue to hate you. You're complaining about a glorified golf cart? You sad sacks of monkey spittle used this piece of shit Datsun for years to shuttle one shitty, 1970s reliever after another in from the pen and never batted an eye:

I'm going back to not giving a shit about baseball until the 4th of July. Good day.

So Long, Friends

2008-04-14T09:28:00.002-04:00

Three reasons for this majestic photo:

Trevor Immelman is a steely little assassin (not unlike the indigenous South African jackal);
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The tee shot at 18 is like trying to thread your drive down a typical office hallway; and
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Sulu's been headlining the site for far too long now, frankly.

Well done, Trevor. You too, ~~Scut Farkus~~ Brandt Snedeker. Up yours, Tiger ... thanks for making it completely uninteresting. Selfish bastard.

The Standoff

2008-04-11T12:20:00.003-04:00

The music started and I got with the beat. The rousing rhythm of Willie Nelson's great hit, "On the Road Again," felt so right. The song joyfully flowed out of my body. I sang my heart out. The cheering, stomping and hollerin' when I finished was tremendous.

- George Takei, from his indescribable 58,000-word blog entry describing his night on CBS's "Secret Talents of the Stars" (which was cancelled roughly 5 hours after it finally aired)

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In this galactic battle of the stupids, there are no winners. None. It's uncanny how miraculously well-armed they all are. CBS ... Sulu ... whoever the fuck advised Sulu to go all Herman Melville in a massive blog post about his time spent on the single dumbest show ever created. Who loses there? Who wins? Who's able to look the other stupid in the eye and say, "Fuck you! I'm way stupider than you!!!"

It's impossible to tell.

Man's Man

2008-04-10T09:34:00.000-04:00

The sound of his balls clacking herald his every approach. 2,000 sit ups and push ups a day, and one Heisman Trophy have made Herschel Walker the last of a dying breed ... a man's man.

Free Tibet advocates threatened to derail the carrying of the Olympic torch through San Francisco yesterday. Violent protests were taking place all over the globe. The USOC was aware of these dangerous developments and knew who to call. They asked Herschel to carry the torch through the madness. Before his jog yesterday, he appeared on ESPN's First Take to talk about the situation.

He was asked if he was worried about protesters attacking him and getting through security. Herschel's response?

"I have been training in mixed martial arts. I am bad news for them protesters. I hope they do break through. I need some practice."

This response made me spit up my Cheerios. The French athlete was forced to carry the torch inside of a bus. Herschel wanted to beat the crap out of some Buddhists. Gotta love that Olympic spirit.

What made him so tough? Growing up in a black neighborhood with the name of a 91 year old rabbi? Having a "box" haircut 15 years after the cancellation of "A Different World?" I don't know, but the next time you're getting mowed down by your girlfriend, ask yourself one simple question.

What would Herschel do?

Amen!

2008-04-10T09:04:00.004-04:00

Hello, friends. Finally, it's here. Golf the way Jesus intended.

We have nothing new to add this year, though. We'll just throw out all the old stuff we did in years past. It's much easier -- and less time-consuming -- this way.

A Walking Diary (the Sistine Chapel of Flipside Masters coverage)

Masters vs. The Bedford All-Nighter (which somehow manages to remain similar to Lincoln vs. Douglas)

First Time at Augusta (the only Masters article in the universe with an "Emmanuel from Space" shout out)

The Dr. Gonzo Awards (which really has nothing to do with the Masters ... but everything to do with that which the Masters holds dear: hallucinogenic drugs -- and the athletes who swear by them)

Welcome to the most beautiful time of the year.

Needless Social Commentary

2008-04-08T09:04:00.001-04:00

Yippppppppppeeeeeeeeee!!!! A tremendous national disaster is averted. The old-timey luster of clean-cut, un-corn-rowed, fundamental basketball is hereby restored.

Thank you, Kansas. Thank you.

/s/ Bigotted White America

BIOD: NBA Badasses Edition

2008-04-04T11:01:00.006-04:00

... we had REAL badass motherfuckers in the NBA. Not the fake ones you kids have today. And that's a shame. Because it's probably why your generation is as pussified as it is. (Well ... that and your little bicycle-helmet laws. And the fact that there's no Cold War anymore.)

The point is, back in our day, we had Charles Barkley. Simply put, the man was a fucking Clydesdale. A majestically badass Clydesdale who enjoyed ripping shit up on the court and throwing uppity fans through plate-glass windows.

Behold the wonder of yesteryear ... and bow down:

Fucking. Awesome.

R.I.P. "Frosty Freeze"

2008-04-04T10:51:00.006-04:00

Sadly, Wayne "Frosty Freeze" Frost is no more.

"He was one of the most charismatic b-boys that ever lived."

Truer words have never been spoken.
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Alou to Bartman: 'Nevermind'

2008-04-03T08:52:00.005-04:00

Five years after the fact, Moises Alou comes clean about the infamous "Steve Bartman Incident." Turns out that nobody should've blamed the young Notre Dame grad to begin with:
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"You know what the funny thing is?" Alou said. "I wouldn't have caught it anyway."

So there you go. Alou wouldn't have caught it anyway. Our bad, Steve. Sorry about the whole "wanting to impale you with a radio antenna and then leaving you to burn in Hell for the duration of your sorry ass existence" thing.

No harm, no foul.

But the bigger question, obviously, is how did Bartman take this revelation?

"What!? What the fuck did that cockgoblin say!?!?!!!!"

He quickly began sobbing -- and incoherently screaming in tongues -- while simultaneously eating a VCR. We vacated the premises.

Your New Indiana Basketball Coach

2008-04-01T18:02:00.002-04:00

And so it begins.

Assume 'the Position,' Hoosier Fans

2008-03-31T21:54:00.009-04:00

You know what to do.

Batten down the hatches ... get the family out of the house ... get your shotgun ... load up on reasonably priced Viceroy's ... drink yourself numb ... grab your fucking trumpet ... and if you've got a pistol lying around, grab that too. (You don't have to holster it ... just make sure it's nearby.)

This isn't a drill. I repeat: this is NOT a drill. We just don't know what's coming next. I wish we did ... but we don't. We don't. Go ahead and expect the worst, though. And make sure you're goddamn ready. Make sure you're in position.

Me? I'm already there. Been there all day. So fuck you
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This probably won't end well.

Meet the Pagoda

2008-03-31T13:19:00.005-04:00

...................[Reprinted from "The Silent Pagoda" on IndyCar.com]

Welcome to the Silent Pagoda ... the single most ill-informed, inexperienced, decidedly majestic racing blog on the planet. To be honest, it's destined to be embraced by beatniks and drunkards alike.

But probably not overly serious IndyCar fans. Because if you're looking for technical, constructive, factual information ... this isn't the place for you. It's just not. There's no "technical" racing analysis here. There's nothing even close to it, actually. Nor will there be. Partly because we wouldn't even know how, but mainly because such staunch ~~doucheness~~ seriousness goes against everything we stand for.

And if you don't know what the Pagoda stands for by now, I don't know what to tell you. I'm not saying you'll never get it. But I'm not not saying it either.

Let's get to your inevitable questions.

Is this a joke?

No.

Then what are you doing here?

As was explained to us, we're the liaison between the IndyCar Series and the 302 million other kind-hearted Americans who don't religiously follow open-wheel racing. We speak their language, frankly. And we’re here to guide them through a full season of open-wheel racing. We’re their selfless IndyCar Sherpas, so to speak.

We're also here to continuously denounce Dario Franchitti, retaliatory arson, and anyone who feels that Danica talks like a dude.

So what does all that mean?

In short, it means we’re going to cover the IndyCar series much like a 6-year-old might cover an NBA game: Yeah … the on-court action is fun. But you know what? That gorilla repelling down from the rafters is pretty fucking sweet too. I don’t see Rick Bucher talking about THAT.

The Pagoda will always recognize the splendor of the repelling gorillas, so to speak. Because that’s what winners do.

Do you have any journalistic experience?

If by "journalistic experience" you mean "writing snarky and bourbon-fueled sports-related tirades that may or may not be lucid" ... yes. We do. But on the journalistic ladder, we're one rung below a Hardee's coupon. And one rung above Jack Arute's blog.

(And so it begins. The blood feud. Go to hell, Arute.)

Do you Pagoda people even watch the IndyCar Series?

Some of us do. Some watch more than others. Some don't watch at all.

Personally speaking, I first started watching the races last year — during my contentious 14-week tryout with the IRL. My summer of IndyCar went as follows: (1) watch race; (2) write something profound — some might say Hemingway-ian — about race; (3) have Brian Barnhart scoff at me and otherwise voice how incredibly unimpressed he was; and, (4) repeat.

The point is, I learned a great deal about the sport last year. Most notably, I learned that Tony Kanaan is one of the six most badass humans on Earth. (I mean, it's only a matter of time before he unloads automatic weaponry at another driver's wheels during a restart. He's just that guy. Unimaginably reckless and hard-core.) And realistically, until some other driver opts to snort a fifth of ethanol while thrashing an opponent's car with a severed tree limb ... Kanaan will continue to wear the Crown as the League's preeminent badass. That I know.

Beyond that, I know very little about the IndyCar Series.

What are your goals with this blog?

First and foremost, the Pagoda strives to come across as blindingly self-important. We want into that upper echelon of pretentious, awesomely cocksure writers (see: Edgar Allen Poe; Mike Lupica; whoever wrote the Dead Sea Scrolls; William Faulkner; and Jose Canseco).

Also, we want to portray the fact that watching the IndyCar Series can be immensely awesome — even for those unfamiliar with the sport — provided that you give it a chance ... that you know what to look for. Our goal, obviously, is to point you in the right direction.

(And just so we’re clear here, “the right direction” most often means “Tony Kanaan’s jaw-dropping insanity.” Not always, mind you. But usually. The man bounces through traffic like a meth’d-out proton. It’s highly compelling theater, really.)

Quickly, here are a few more goals currently being pursued*:

(1) Destroy Jack Arute;

(2) Secure a fully-loaded Honda Ridgeline for the Pagoda’s personal use — the kind used by the Delphi Safety Team — which comes with 18 fire extinguishers, fender-mounted shovels, and the ability to go 170 mph;

(3) Continuously explore the vast magnificence of Willy T. Ribbs;

(4) Have Curt Cavin physically threaten us;

(5) Obtain recognition from Pulitzer committee;

(6) Make it known that we accept any and all forms of tomfoolery, bribes;

(7) Keep Marco Andretti away from our women folk;

(8) Pit Roger Penske against an adult puma in a battle to the death ... watch as overmatched puma gets quickly subdued by man's raw power and superior cunning; and,

(9) Get Malcolm Jamal Warner onto the Pagoda staff.

(*This list is subject to change.)

Why "The Silent Pagoda?" What's with that? What are you, a Taiwanese playwright?

Well, actually ... [giving the Jedi "move-along" gesture] ... the title of this blog is of no concern to you, friend. You have other, more off-topic questions to ask.

I have an off-topic question to ask: who was the better 1980’s-era single dad … Philip Drummond or Edward Stratton III?

Stratton, no doubt. He had a train running through his living room. A FUCKING TRAIN, I tell you!!! That’s the American dream right there. That man got it. He just got it.

Finally we agree on something. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.

Thanks. And that really wasn’t a question.

Can I go now?

Please.

[Roy Hobbson]

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A New Mid Major

2008-03-31T09:50:00.006-04:00

Rome has burned. John C. Holmes needs Viagra. St. Elmo's has an "All You Can Eat" buffet and is serving food under a sneeze guard. Winston Churchill has begun to stutter. The most historically significant collegiate athletic conference has become little more than a bloated and charmless version of the MAC. The Big Ten has become an embarrassment and a national laughingstock. I don't know who is to blame, but the evidence is now undeniable. The slide is occurring in every sport, at every school, and it has to stop.

The last week provided yet another avalanche of feces to support this assertion. The last two Big Ten teams in the tournament went down like Glass Joe in Tyson's Punchout. Playing the role of the Polish in World War II were the Michigan State Spartans who were destroyed by a school that gives diplomas printed with finger paint on construction paper. On the other side of the bracket were the Wisconsin Badgers who were boatraced by a school so small that they took the entire student body on a field trip to the Elite Eight. And to cap off this turdcicle of a week was the indignity offered to the conference's preeminent basketball program. Indiana offered its head coach position to a 37 year old midwesterner who coaches at a school that hadn't won a conference title since 1941 and he turned it down. Why write for Sports Illustrated when I can track high school hoops at the Churabusco Chronicle sayeth Tony Bennett?

These embarrassments are just the latest in a long line. How about the Big Ten in bowl games? Just a guess, but I would bet that the entire AP Top 10 would have to be shipped to Iraq before Ohio State gets asked back to the BCS Championship. The last two Buckeye performances were reminiscent of the game scenes in 'Lucas'. Illinois played the part of Michael Spinks to USC's Mike Tyson. Purdue for their part held serve by beating Central Frickin' Michigan on a last second field goal. Michigan redeemed their pathetic season by outlasting a Florida team that looked as if they had spent the last week binge drinking and watching Sponge Bob to prepare for a team that lost to a Division II opponent named after a mountain range. Penn State has a coach that literally still draws up plays in the dirt. And we need to stop the OSU/Michigan is the "best rivalry in sports" talk. It is now an annual play-in game for an eventual USC/SEC asswhipping.

And doesn't the Big Ten have to win someday for it to be called the ACC/Big Ten Challenge? How about less prominent sports like Women's Basketball? Well conference champ Purdue played host to UConn in January, trailed 50-14 at half and lost by 58 points. No Big Ten team ended the season ranked in the Top 25. Baseball? The MAC and the Valley have been better for a long time. But hey, we've still got Wrestling.

The Big Ten is in a sad state indeed. You think Notre Dame will want to join? Judging by their recent performance, they'd fit right in.

Roll Tide, Excuse Me...Go Hoosiers

2008-03-31T04:09:00.013-04:00

Sadly, this is what IU basketball has become. A proud program once looked upon by many as the creme de la creme of it's respective sport. Now, well just a memory. Time to come to grips with it people.

There are so many parallels between the decline in Alabama's football program and Indiana's basketball outfit:

Legendary Coach: Bear Bryant v. Bobby Knight
Conference Championships: 25 v. 20
National Championships: 7 (Not counting pre-Bear) v. 5
Most Recent Championship: 1992 (Yes, Jay Barker has a title) v. 1993 (Damn you A. Hendo's knee)
Conf. Titles Since Nat'l Relevancy (1992/1993): 1 v. 1 (IU shared it in 2002)
Ravenous, Unrealistic Fanbases

I think that about covers it. Both of these programs are, in relation to their own history, grossly underperforming. At least in Alabama's case they've got someone righting the ship in Nick Saban. Even though he's one of the most arrogant pr--ks out there you get the feeling he'll have Bama back contending in the SEC. Combine that with the fact they're always going to be in the black financially due to it major revenue sport always selling out home games and there's reason for Bama fans to be optimistic.

In IU's case things are much more dire. If reports are accurate, we just got rebuffed by a 2nd year coach living in Pullman, WA. Think about that for a second.....ok, now put your head in a vice and tell your nearest family member to "TURN"! No, anesthesia kiddies.

If Indiana were still such an elite program Tony Bennett and his kind come running. The better question is how in the hell does IU go after a guy like Bennett without knowing he's going to take the job? You just can't let yourselves be made a mockery of when said candidate turns around and says, "nah, thanks but I think I'll just enjoy the Boomtown that is Pullman. If you're Iowa or Missouri, sure you can handle the embarrassment. But, not when you're one of the blue bloods of college basketball.

Where does IU turn? Well, when you swing and miss like this there aren't a lot of places to turn. Pitino, Calipari, Pearl, Matta etc. aka the pipe dream candidates were probably never going to consider IU anyway. Surely, these guys will not let themselves look like Dan Quayleesque fallback plan/2nd fiddle types. So, IU is left with other up and comers (PAGING ANTHONY GRANT) or put-out-to-pasture types like Mike Montgomery. Left with that choice, please get the younger guy.

Has the sky fallen? No, not completely. But whatever happens, one thing is clear, Indiana isn't the brand it used to be.

Just Say No to Mike Montgomery

2008-03-29T12:32:00.005-04:00

Please God -- No. (Andy Katz sneaks this little nugget in the middle of his Tony Bennett speculation but -- trust me -- it's there, it's real, and it stinks mightily.)
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The Bruce is Loose!

2008-03-27T16:04:00.005-04:00

The McMuffin inventor dies (eye-gougingly sad) ... and then this Bruce Pearl video emerges (unspeakably awesome).

Such is the circle of life. So much heartbreak in this world. And yet, if you wait long enough ... so much beauty.

God bless America.

More videos from the "ryanparkersongs's channel" channel at Heavy.com

A Sad Day

2008-03-27T11:40:00.005-04:00

It's raining today because the world is crying. "He was very partial to eggs Benedict," we learn. Say no more. Say no more.

Godspeed, Herb.

Sweet 16 Picks

2008-03-27T06:16:00.011-04:00

A week ago, free money lay strewn across lawns, overpasses and bong-ridden spring break hotel rooms (8-2 last week). This week is no different. The first two rounds of the tourney you play selectively. From here on out, you play every game on the board. Much like the spring break trips of the past, now is not the time to say, "Maybe I'll take tonight off and get back on the Natty Light/opium highway tomorrow." No. It's time to power through.

THE DOGS BE A BARKIN'

Xavier (+1) You're kidding me, right? Sure, West Virginia may be the hottest team in the country the last two weeks, but Xavier's defensive intensity and ability to hit FT's will get it done in the last 5 minutes.

Louisville (+3) Tennessee's modus operandi is to run people off the court with superior athleticism coupled with forcing turnovers. The problem in this game is that L'ville has the horses to run with the Vols (while Padgett and Palacios inside should exploit the Vols weak post defense).

Louisville over (145') Up and down game for sure. If you don't think this game is at least in the 70s, then you probably also believe Pol Pot was a regular humanitarian. Easiest pick of the day here.

Washington St. (+8') Tough game to call, but there's absolutely no way Washington St. is going to allow UNC to run rampant with their fast break game. UNC wins this one because they're just enormously deep (I feel uncomfortable typing that for some reason). It's all a matter of how the FT's go at the end for the cover. You gotta play it though. It's Thursday night for godsake. What else are you going to do?

Western Kentucky (+12) UCLA has played a ton of relatively close games the last two weeks and they're just not the type of team that consistently blows people out. Their style just doesn't lend itself to it. Plus, any time you can get double digit points in a S16 game, you've got to take it. Like Wash St., though, the Hilltoppers stand no real chance of winning. But I really like them losing by 9.

Put a Cecil on each and check back tomorrow after you go at least 5-1.
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The Pearl Makes His Move

2008-03-25T10:15:00.000-04:00

Whaaaaaaadup, Indiana?! Mmmmmmm, GODdamn you got a fine ass! Give The Pearl some pound, sweet tits. There you go. Niiiiiiice!!!

Listen here, sweetie ... The Pearl has a question to ask of you. Is there a giant mirror in Assembly Hall? Why do I ask, you say? That's easy, baby. 'Cause The Pearl can see himself in there. .[starts combing hair suavely]. The Pearl sees himself in there stalking the sidelines -- with or without a shirt ... your call -- and generally making love to winning.

Here's The Pearl's number, darling.. [hands over business card ... seductively mouths the words "call me" while holding his crotch]. Remember: The Pearl is hung like a Sudanese pack mule. If you think you can handle the girth and power, come get some.

Pearl out. Ciao.

Walsh Out ... Bird In

2008-03-24T16:02:00.007-04:00

Leaving: The man who built the Pacers into a formidable power.

Staying: The man who hired Lil' Ronnie as the team's PR director.

Forecast for the next 12 years: Torrential shitstorms (with mixed felony charges and gusting irrelevancy).

Friend or Foe: Weekend Roundup

2008-03-24T09:01:00.010-04:00

IU/Arkansas game: Listen, I've had colon surgery before. A total nightmare, really. At some point -- after I've made peace with the horrifying ordeal -- maybe I'll be comfortable discussing it. In the meantime, just know that I had a morphine pump stitched into my ass and I couldn't walk for three days. Again, nightmare. Of course, they told me this going in; I knew exactly what I was in for. The point is, the IU/Arkansas game -- compared to having my lower intestine essentially sand-blasted -- was more painful, more predictable, and more "just-shove-the-narcotics-down-my-throat-and-leave-me-be." In fact, I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm not ready. Foe.

West Virginia: You've done the Lord's work, Mountaineers. You've vanquished Evil from this world. You're to be commended. Friend

Bill Raftery: So help me God, he could commentate a Congressional filibuster and make it six different types of awesome. Plus, any person who glorifies a fellow coach as "a good man to know after hours" -- obviously in reference to said coach's gargantuan gin gimlet cravings -- is going to be well-received. (See 2nd half of Butler game.) Friend, in perpetuity.

Olive Garden: Nobody trudges through your doors for world-class shrimp scampi. Rather, we go there for an easy, reasonably priced, family-friendly meal that takes 23 minutes, start to finish. You got that? And at 4:35 PM, that number should drop to 18 minutes. Tops. Except it didn't. On Saturday, we waited for 25 minutes to just get seated. So I'm forced to ask: what the holy f--k is going on with you?!?! Nobody should ever have to wait at Olive Garden. Nobody! And yet, we stood in your goddamn foyer for 25 excruciating minutes ... me, my wife, and our fantastically amped-up 2 year old. That's the kind of shit that makes one re-evaluate one's life path. Foe. Go to hell, Olive Garden.

Pacers: I have no idea who/when/if they played this weekend. Nor do I have the desire to even check. Damn them for this stage-4 apathy. Foe.

My NCAA Brackets: [shaking head sadly] If this tournament were an episode of "Star Trek," my brackets were the scholarly looking black pulmonologist from sick bay who nobody had ever seen before. He was destined for an early, inglorious death. Which is exactly what happened, to the surprise of no one. F--k you, Pitt. You too, Georgetown. RIP, doc. Foe.

Stephen Curry: I don't care if he looks like Cheryl Miller. I just don't. Because he plays like a 1958 Rick Mount ... if 1958 Rick Mount was actually a Predator attack drone. And his mom is Sheena Easton, I think. Friend.

Gas Prices: Really? You couldn't just inch up? You had to be a hero and "skyrocket?" Awesome. You know what else is awesome, you deplorable rapist? Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. And their 1:1 person-to-moped ratio. Because you keep this shit up, and that'll be us. This shining beacon of freedom and ass-kicking will be reduced to a nation of sorry-assed moped-riders. It's a slippery slope from there. The next thing we know, we're eating cobra meat and trying to lure wealthy European tourists here to jump-start our economy. Holy Jesus. Foe. A thousand times foe. I f--king hate you.

Easter Ham: Ahhh, the fair-haired child of the holiday meals. We're supposed to love them all equally ... but we don't. We don't. We favor you, ham. You and your golden-glazed, spiral-sliced goodness. You, sir, are the One. Friend. Always and forever.

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Not Our Fault

2008-03-23T20:34:00.008-04:00

Sunday's tournament games came to a conclusion. I just returned to the family room from dinner. I turn on the TV and I am tuned into CBS. '60 Minutes' is airing an interview with David Beckham. The handsome Brit is explaining how soccer can finally take hold in the United States. I will sum this up as politely as I can. Ain't gonna' happen. Shouldn't happen. And it's not our fault. A year ago I wrote a column about the overt suckiness of Hockey. This is my anti-soccer diatribe. I know this will offend some. I will try to shy away from cheap shots and generalizations. But make no mistake, America will never love soccer, and the game and it's fans are to blame.

I will attempt to put this hatred in context. I am not some 'chest thumping', Charlie Daniels loving, America first, Ann Coulter devotee who hates all things foreign. One can discern from previous columns that I am on the left side of the political spectrum and I am an Internationalist in my world view. I went to the preeminent soccer high school in the state. I have lived in Bloomington and attended Indiana University, truly the gold standard of soccer schools. I am a short, white guy from an affluent suburb. I own a Toyota Sienna. In short, if there is any American who should be hardwired to like soccer it is me. But I don't, and it's not my fault. The sport sucks.

I am not going to take the easy route and call it a 'p---y' sport. It's not and as a person who enjoys tennis and recently hurt himself installing child safety locks on the cabinetry, I am hardly Chuck Yeager myself. I will also not claim that the sport lacks value. Little kids seem to love it, it's not particulary complicated, and if you have a 7 year old with ADHD and a Ding Dong addiction, it is one helluva parental coping mechanism. I also appreciate what it means to some of the poorest people in the world. One ball and a couple of sticks to mark a goal and you've got a game. It's a little tough to ask a Sri Lankan to splurge for a bag of Callaway's.

However, it is an insomnia cure-all that is beloved by hooligans and snobs. And the latter two points are the real rub. There are plenty of boring activities to watch. However, no needlepoint enthusiast has come up to me and told me that I am stupid or lack sophistication for not loving it too. Soccer fans are different.

A French official in a lengthy anti-American diatribe included a lack of interest in Soccer and other games not developed in the U.S. as one of a long list of grievances against America. I have been told by a bartender that I just don't 'understand' the many 'nuances'of the 'beautiful game'. Others have opined that Americans lack the 'patience' to appreciate a sport like soccer.

Bull---t. There are many things better in foreign countries than in America. Public transportation, produce, TV commercials, architecture, are just a few that come to mind. America has plenty of faults and I am more than willing to accept and admit to those. However, America leads the world in three distinct respects. We use ice cubes (Thanks for the 74 degree Cherry Coke in August, Madrid Miguel), understand the value of circumcision, and our sports are clearly better.

We reject soccer, because soccer is terrible to watch. Call us fat. Call us dumb. Call us what you will, but we are the best and most discriminating consumers on earth. We'll try anything and if it's good, we'll adopt it. American women wear Aussie Ugg boots and carry French Louis Vuitton handbags. The Japanese tell us that wrapping an eel in seaweed is delicious, we try it, and now sushi is sold at Wal-Mart. We have the best Mexican food in the world and most of the best Mexicans. We adopted the Beatles and we let Bjork through the gate at the Academy Awards. My fellow citizens of the world, we tried your soccer and it touched our national gag reflex.

Mr. Foreign Born Soccer Fan, don't call me 'stupid' for not liking soccer. In France, they throw bananas on the field when black players take to the pitch. In England, spectators are crushed routinely. I'm no Norman Einstein, but I'll put my IQ up against that contingent any day of the week. Italians think we lack patience. We're not the ones who fell a little behind economically and gave the car keys to Benito Moussolini. Have you ever driven in Rome? We're frickin' Job (he sat on a pile of ashes for a while) compared to those people. Soccer fans make the Artest/Pistons melee crowdvlook like a Brookings Institute symposium by contrast.

Mr. American Soccer Fan, don't act like you are William F. Buckley because you know that Tottingham finished 4th in the Premier League. Those in America who equate soccer fandom to sophistication are the same people who use the word 'paradigm' in meetings to impress people and hang out in Barnes and Noble to pick up chicks. And save me the "Baseball is low scoring too" line. Most soccer games I have watched end in a 0-0 tie (including the 94' World Cup Final). Baseball is like going to a rave with a hypoglycemic after snarfing down 12 chocolate bars and a Red Bull by comparison.

Soccer fans, enjoy it if you want. Our kids will play it and then watch something else when they grow up. Just tone down the '700 Club' evangelising routine. Soccer is a religion that we're not buying.

Thank You, Butler

2008-03-23T11:51:00.008-04:00

Thank you, Butler, for continuing to remind this country that Indiana is indeed a noble basketball state.* We're indebted to you.

Now ... please surgically disembowel Tennessee. We beg of you. Unleash the back-cuts, the flare screens, the hustle, the heady play, the defensive roatations, the gentlemanly triple-threat position, the ball fakes, the skip passes, the pride, the box-outs, the double screens, the floor burns, the team unity, and everything else people once associated with IU basketball. In other words, do what you do best.

The floor is yours.

________________________________________________

*Special thanks also to Purdue, E'Twan Moore, Matt Painter, Notre Dame, Luke Harangody, Wayman Tisdale (because I said so), Hickory High, Hinkle Fieldhouse, the dignified Oscar Robertson, and John Wooden's admirable ability to continuously elude death.

A big "f--k you" to IU, players not caring about IU, the Pacers, the IHSAA, Kelvin Sampson, Boomer, Bowser, Jamaal Tinsley, Rick Greenspan, Jermaine O'Neal, and anyone who has contributed to the gangster-ization and/or trivilaization of a once proud tradition. You can all go f--k yourselves.
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The Ship Be Sinkin'

2008-03-22T09:58:00.006-04:00

Yes, Michael Ray ... it appears so. I'm not ready to comment fully on the state of IU basketball right now. A long discussion over several pints of Guinness with Messrs Hobbson and Barnes is in order to fully come to grips with where IU is at right now. Suffice it to say, it's not a good place.

I jumped on board with Anthony Grant back at the end of February when I believed IU could simply go the route of "righting the ship" with who appears to be the next great thing. Now, however, I believe IU is in full-blown "we're f--ked and better set this shit straight" mode. And I'm not confident that Grant, Miller, Bennett et al can definitely accomplish this.

We'll release our findings in short order, but I'm going into the Flipside staff meeting with the mindset IU has to go the route of "no-brainer/this guy cannot possibly f--k things up" mode.

I'm left with a short list. Some won't happen, but you get the idea of what I'm looking for. Nobody is going to be perfect, but these are our best bets: Pitino, Matta, Barnes, Pearl, Izzo and -- urgh -- Calipari. All of those guys would fix this scurvey-ridden ship we call Indiana basketball. Sure, some are going to have no interest for a variety of reasons, but from this list we must select.

I enjoy the forthcoming comments inviting me to have sex with myself. Thank you in advance. And go Butler. I'm riding with you now.
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I'm Done

2008-03-21T23:18:00.013-04:00

Goodnight, you underachieving, no-pride-having, selfish, "KS"-wearing, lazy, sulking, gutless, low-basketball-IQ, heartless lumps of protoplasmic goo.

(DJ and Basset exempted, of course.)

It was over when you refused to get on the floor for the first loose ball of the game. Could someone at least try to check Weems and maybe punch that hippy in the liver? I'm ashamed that some head-band-wearing Scott Pollard wanna-be is doing this to you. You should be too.

And while I'm at it, f--k the assholes who thought it would be a good idea to announce the search committee this week. Way to bend Dakich over without even giving him the common courtesy of a reach-around. And f--k Bob Kravitz, just because.

Commencing "Operation: Belligerent Whisky-Induced Violence."

A Pox Upon You, Durhamites

2008-03-20T21:28:00.004-04:00

Dismayed, we are. So very, very dismayed. So f--king close. Ugh.

/s/ America

Non-Scientific Flipside Poll

2008-03-20T14:51:00.001-04:00

Two-part question: (1) Has humanity peaked with this on-line NCAA Tourney feed? And (2) Are you even attempting to work today?

% Chance: NCAA First Round Ed.

2008-03-20T11:07:00.002-04:00

What's the percent chance that ...

... this divine technological advancement might signal the end of the United States economy as we know it? -- 93%

... at some point while filling out your brackets, you hastily demoted one of your Final Four teams to a first-round exit? -- 73%. A harrowing experience for sure.

... you picked Davidson to beat Gonzaga? -- 92%

... after you picked Davidson, you sat back, smiled, and thought to yourself, "I'm a f--king genius ... NOBODY'S going to pick Davidson"? -- 100%

... the problem with on-line bracketing is that you can't write cool shorthand shit like "G'Town," "L'Ville," and "Zona"? -- a-Unibomber-like-disdain-for-technology 100%

... you desperately WANTED to pick Cal State Fullerton over Wisconsin, but just couldn't muster the balls for it? -- an already pissed off 83%

... Billy Packer's opening-round morning ritual involves tediously reviewing game film and slaughtering ethnic drifters outside of his fancy hotel? -- 50%

... your wife will violently overreact and assume that her bracket is f--ked up beyond repair after her first projected upset goes awry? -- 10,947%. This is precisely why women make suspect gamblers.

... this is the year that the Seth Davis, during an otherwise mundane halftime analysis, goes all Lloyd Braun and mentally collapses? -- 68%. It will happen. Eventually. Nobody's THAT sane. Serenity now ... insanity later.

... Harold "The Show" Arceneaux had the skeletal structure of a mechanical cheetah? -- 83% (This fulfills our required Acreneaux reference for the year. Godspeed, "The Show." Until next year.)

... even to virgin ears, it takes about 12 seconds to realize that Bill Raftery deserves his shot as a Supreme Court Justice -- 100%. F--k you, Antonin Scalia. F--k. You. Leave. Bill deserves this.

... Ian Eagle legally changed his name when he was 5 years old (while he was in the throes of a "Fun Dip" mega-bender)? -- 98.45%.

... Ian Eagle's backup name was "Cougar McSteely"? -- 73% ("Lamborghini Jones" occupies the remaining 27%.)

... when you're at Moe & Johnny's tonight -- sitting amongst 600 frothing-at-the-mouth drunkards screaming in earnest for Winthrop to "get a stop!" -- you'll find yourself wishing that the NCAA basketball tourney was more like the BCS Championship format? -- negative-12,684%

So It Begins...

2008-03-20T03:50:00.011-04:00

Let's be honest with each other, you're either one of two people today: (1) the guy hiding in his office watching games on his computer while not even remotely approaching work in any capacity; or, (2) the guy who planned ahead, took the day off, and will be drunk by 3pm. Either way you're watching games and doing very little of anything else. Might as well make some cash in the process, right? Without further ado...

FREE MONEY

Xavier (-8') Georgia's spent. Toast. Finished. See Syracuse from a couple years back. This is the easiest bet for the entire tournament.
Kansas (-22) Kansas as a number one seed destroys their 1st round opponent.
Temple under (136) Sorry, no way these teams play into the 70s.
Duke over (154) Tons of easy looks for Duke and a bunch of Belmont garbage buckets in a pointless 2nd half.
Notre Dame (-6') Not this year George Mason. Too much Irish offense. Double digit win. Easy
USC (-3) Beasley and Walker will get their's, but no guard play will kill K-State.

NOT FREE MONEY, BUT CLOSE

Texas A&M (-1') Look for A&M to dominate inside with DeAndre Jordan and Co.
Arizona over (137') This has shootout written all over it. Look for AZ to fast break WV to death while simultaneously playing little to no defense.
Wisconsin under (137) Whisky isn't going to let the Titans score 60 and Whisky won't go for 80.
UNLV (+2) Yeah, I know I've been chalk heavy up until now. People are sleeping on the Rebels. I'll take the points against an overrated MAC team.

If you're out in Vegas, setup shop early at Mandalay's sportsbook. If not, hit a local bar and eat greasy food until your aorta explodes. Either way just filling out a bracket is no way to go through tourney season. And for those of you who've gone into gambling retirement (see Skeeter Barnes) welcome back. These winners should get your tourney bankroll going.

Anybody else got some more winners? I'm still trying to make up for that f--king stupid 2nd Half Super Bowl over bet.

IU vs. Arkansas: The First Salvo

2008-03-19T15:29:00.004-04:00

Frankly, there's not nearly enough ~~friendly~~ fisticuffs-inducing banter between these two fan bases. F--k that.

Allow us.

According to Shaun Souers' investigative journalism, Arkansas folk -- comparatively speaking -- make Boilermakers seem like clean-cut, eloquent NASA physicists. Impossible, you say?

Decide for yourself.

IU's Only Chance

2008-03-18T15:37:00.015-04:00

Hoosier team meeting from Tuesday afternoon ... the one we're hoping took place:

Coach Dan Dakich: You don't want to play for me??? Fine. You don't want to listen to me??? So be it. I can't imagine HOW that could possibly be -- you know, seeing as those slimy little pigeon crotches just announced they're forming a search committee to find my f--king replacement. Whatever. F--k them. The point is, we'll see if someone else can get through to you punks. Coach McCallum ... they're all yours.

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[Coach McCallum stands up ... thunder is heard ... there is a blinding light]

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.

.

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Assistant Coach Panthro McCallum: Listen here, you bastards!!!! So help me, Lion-O, I will eat your f--king faces off if you don't do what we tell you! Got it?!?! The time grows near, my minions. On Friday, we feast on the blood of slain Hogs! Who's with me?!?!?! HOOSIERS, hooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!
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[roaring approval from team]

Good Friday = Magnificent Friday

2008-03-17T08:21:00.001-04:00

Hats off to Christ for being resurrected this weekend and getting us all out of work on Friday.

Deftly done, Sir.

Happy St. Patrick's Day

2008-03-17T07:59:00.003-04:00

There's odd languages the world over, but this is just shy of Norwegian on the F--ked Up Dialect Scale. Enjoy the Guinness today, all.

Moooooooon River

2008-03-17T03:09:00.008-04:00

Dr. Joseph Dolan: You know, it's a shame about Ed.
Fletch: Oh, it was. Yeah, it was really a shame. To go so suddenly like that.
Dr. Joseph Dolan: He was dying for years.
Fletch: Sure, but... the end was very... very sudden.
Dr. Joseph Dolan: He was in intensive care for eight weeks.
Fletch: Yeah, but I mean the very end, when he actually died. That was extremely sudden.

Pretty effectively sums up this IU season.

Not saying the Hoosiers deserve much more than an 8 seed after losing to Penn St. and Minnesota. Brutal draw, though. Just brutal. I'd really like to know when the last team from a power conference with 25 wins was this low of a seed. Anybody? How does a team (Wisconsin) go 28-4 in a supposed power conference, win the regular season title and conference tourney manage only a 3 seed? Maybe because the B10 is on par with the MEAC or Southland Conferences. One only has to look at the box scores from this weekend's tournament for proof of that.
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Tony! Toni! Tone!

2008-03-16T22:06:00.005-04:00

Bruce Pearl would be great. I am intrigued by and would be happy with Anthony Grant. Sean Miller would be a solid choice. There are several men who could potentially be a great fit at Indiana University. However, I have my heart set on Tony Bennett of Washington State University. A great recruiter. A man of integrity. A mastermind. A motivator. A midwesterner. He is everything the Hoosier Nation could possibly ask for in a head coach and a representative.

Roy Hobbson gave personal testimony to the leadership and character of Anthony Grant. He made a compelling case. In my moment of shameless namedropping, I have crossed paths in varying degrees with members of the Bennett family and others closely associated with the man. It has been a while and I have no idea if he is interested in the job, but I have strong reason to believe that he would be ideal for the position.

Here are the few things that I do know...

-When his father was the Head Coach at Wisconsin and his sister was the Head Coach at Indiana, Tony was just out of the NBA and the third assistant on his father's staff. A relative told me "Tony will be better than us all." Dick Bennett had just led Wisconsin to the Final Four.

-Tony Bennett was personally responsible for finding and recruiting Devin Harris and Alando Tucker, the very players who placed Wisconsin as the dominant program in the Big Ten. I just threw up after writing that sentence.

-Tony Bennett's best friends on the Charlotte Hornets were Alonzo Mourning and Larry Johnson. Not significant, but that still kills me for some reason.

-His father was a brilliant strategist and tactician, but hated coaching during games. Tony stayed on the Wisconsin staff during Bo Ryan's first couple of seasons. A Bennett noted that "Tony loves film as much as my father, and game coaching as much as Bo." Dick Bennett's teams played good enough defense that they could keep Britney Spears away from a pack of Newports. Bo Ryan's teams treat Indiana like the cast of "The View" treats a box of Oreo's. That could be a lethal combination in Bloomington.

-Bob Knight has a high regard for the Bennett family and I would imagine that some of the old scars COULD heal if Tony Bennett were named the head coach. Maybe not with Knight himself, but partisan former players could be won over and put this drama to rest.

-I have been to Pullman Washington. He went 24-8 in one of the best conferences in the country. Getting a good basketball player to move to Pullman, is like getting a Memphis basketball player to take a 400 level class. I would bet he could get Indiana to 24-8 pretty quickly.

-The Bennett's have enormous respect for the tradition of Indiana basketball. Dick Bennett called his entire family with childlike anticipation the night before his first game in Assembly Hall. Kathi Bennett would routinely remind her players of the men who graced the floor they were practicing on. A big Davis/Sampson issue was the love shown to lesser places over Indiana. Anyone who would rather coach the Hawks does not belong in Bloomington.

In short, he combines the best attributes of all of the previous coaches without any of the baggage. He's as clean as Knight and is also a master tactician. He's as affable and religious (not that I care, but some do) as Davis. He coaches defense and recruits as well as Kelvin Sampson. If he would take the job, Tony Bennett would be ideal in Bloomington.
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Bennett '08.

Let's Get Started, Shall We...

2008-03-16T19:47:00.004-04:00

Final 4 - North Carolina, UCLA, Memphis, West Virginia

National Champion - North Carolina (yes, out on a ledge, I know)

Notable Upsets

Butler over Tennessee - you think Butler isn't pissed right now? South Alabama, on the very edge of the bubble, gets to play in Birmingham? Really? I think this becomes a blessing in disguise, helping Butler become a Cinderella again and setting up the ultimate Hickory High v. South Bend Clay matchup in the second round.

West Virginia over Duke - Honestly, I don't even know if this is an upset. I don't think Duke is that great, I just think Krzyzewski is that great of a coach...preparing his team over the course of a 30-game season better than anyone. I see West Virginia with the best player, and enough size and depth to stay with Duke and beat them late.

St. Joseph's over Oklahoma - Good, fundamental, all around team...wildly underrated as an 11 seed

Drake over UConn - Drake is just SOLID...period.

Upsets I didn't have the balls to pick

Wisconsin over Georgetown - If there is a team suited to play and beat the Hoyas, it is Wisconsin....still can't pull the trigger though.

Drake over UCLA - Kevin Love....(this tied with BYU over UCLA)

Michigan State over Memphis - Memphis' defense takes out Neitzel and Suton which means good night Sparty.

Team with no business in the tourney

Oregon - Lost by 8 to Oakland University on a neutral court (granted not far from OU's campus, but come on). Not sure how in this season with the 20-win teams on the outside, 18-13 gets Oregon in. On a neutral court, I believe firmly this team loses to all of the following - Dayton, VCU, Va Tech, Illinois State, and all the others on the "last out" list.

Talking Head Rants You Will Want to Stop Hearing by Tomorrow

How does the Number 1 RPI conference only get four schools? Asked by (pick your ESPN ACC shill, plenty to choose from). Quick answer - because only four schools deserved it. Virginia Tech, I guess I'm insane on this, lost to every good time they played in non-conference. It's no crime they aren't in...sorry Billy Packer.

"We should just have the best 64 teams with no automatic bids." Courtesy of Jay Bilas (whom I still think is the best studio guy out there) and the stereotypical grumpy old man, Bob Knight (another gem from Bobby at the beginning of conference tourney week on ESPN was his speech on how he hates conferernces tournaments...well timed, thanks ESPN). Sounds great Jay and Bobby...how do we do that? Bobby suggested "some sort of computerized solution." Perfect! So the problem is, apparently, college hoops isn't enough like college football. Count me in! And Jay, you may want to send a sympathy card to every school not in the BCS conferences...as basketball will be dead in those places if this approach is taken. Tell me, how many people would have had George Mason as "one of the 64 best" the year they went to the Final 4? Give me a break. For Christ sake - IF IT'S NOT BROKEN, DON'T FUCKING FIX IT!

Ranking the "Tournament Pool" variants

Good old-fashioned fill out the bracket and get points for each winner - It's an oldie but a goodie folks.

See above, double points for each upset picked - Fashionable as of late, but takes away from that perfect feeling you get when a big upset you saw coming happens (as you're incentivized to pick upsets and not just get every game right).

Auction teams and collect money for each round advanced - I have not participated in one of these yet but badly want in on one...and soon. Notify me IMMEDIATELY if you have a space open and do this. My two good buys here are West Virginia and Drake...

RIP IU

Just zero shot....Arkansas has a 7-footer to put on DJ...they play a ball pressure defense...every possible variable that hurts this IU team Arkansas has....Dammit

Can't think of anything more to type...honestly won't sleep tonight. God, I love this tournament.

Flipside Forum

2008-03-16T09:33:00.007-04:00

Sorry for the length of this email, but I have been on defcon 1 level of suicide watch since the Wisky game at home and Chief bending us over.

I felt like Hunter Thompson in his political diaries of Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail in 1972. Stallings is Richard Nixon. He could very well be the reason I might find myself holed up in a rented apartment half way across the country from my house, the fear setting in as I sit in my chair staring at the door with a 44 in my hand and a head full of mescaline. I mean Stallings? He is a PUke. Dakich is 10 times as sexy. The mere mention of Stallings and Greenspan's relationship sends me into convulsions.A bunch of young up and comers? Come on, we are freaking IU. I don't give a crap what every message board whore says. We are IU and only a few teams in the entire country can even say they are on par with us. Shaun Souers honestly put it as simply as possible- "We're HOOSIERS, goddamnit!" At first when I read his line I felt robbed that someone didn't say something more clever than that. You know what. He's right and hope one of you guys tell him thank you for saying the best possible thing to that bastard Sampson.

I am calling my shot right now. I have wanted Pearl ever since I saw his UW-Mil teams play Butler back in 2003. IU now has the chance to go get him. The last week and half could not have gone any better as far as getting him. I even sobered up and put that bottle of somas away for a weekend (well except for the 5 I ate last night after that game),The last week had this :Dakich looking lost and completely overmatched ( I actually feel sorry for him having his dream job humped upon him by that scumbag Sampson), IU collapsing, Tennessee losing a few times after the Memphis game. If Tn had run the tables after the Memphis win, then he becomes a Billy Donovan type and doesn't need to leave because he has built his own power. Pearl also knows IU, the tradition, has recruited the state, and obviously has coached here before. I believe Pearl to be an opportunist and he totally understands the importance of the IU job being open.

IF, a big if, Pearl loses before the elite 8 I think IU gets him. He is the only realistic outcome that would not be a roll of the dice. I would like a few other coaches, but Pearl is the right fit. He is 47, the system would absolutely wreak havoc in the offensively challenged B10, he is a great recruiter, he freaking hit on Erin Andrews, he is a Jew so we are covered on the minority part, and Illinois hates this guy.

I almost passed out thinking of Pearl getting IU level talent into his system. I am solidly in the camp that believes that IU has to get a known commodity. Most of the experienced coaches named are just trying to get raises or are not interested (Floyd, Pitino, Izzo, Barnes, etc..) I love Alford, but he had every chance in the world to get it done at Iowa and he was terrible there. Bennett, Brownell, and Miller are all very good candidates if they were there 2 years ago when we hired chief. Now is not the time to take a chance on a mid-major guy.

Sorry Roy, Grant is better than these three guys, but ultimately is inexperienced and it is a HUGE jump to go from VCU to IU. There is definitely a chance he becomes the next great one, but there is an equal chance that he follows the ridiculously long list of Mid-major stud coaches to fail at the highest level. However, Grant is the only guy besides Pearl that I would not jump off a cliff over. I like the way VCU plays, there is no question that Grant is a rising star, and Roy almost convinced me in his manifesto. The one big thing about Grant that I am not comfortable with would be his recruiting strategy. His ties are to the east coast and the south. I think he would sink most of his resources into those regions and only recruit Indiana marginally. He has also only been a head coach in college for 2 years. I don't think he is ready for the pressure cooker and future baggage of the IU program.

Pearl is worth whatever the cost. The only way I will take Grant is if Pearl signs a huge extension.

I still believe that we end up with Pearl barring the afore mentioned elite 8 or final 4 trip.

Good day sirs,

Dave in Phoenix

_________________________________________________________

As long as people keep suggesting "The Pearl," we'll continue to put up more and more damning photos. Try us.

(Not shown in the header picture: that girl's subsequent delivery of sextuplets a mere three weeks later. According to Reuters.com, The Pearl thrice impregnated her with that mere touching of the lower breast. And when The Pearl impregnates you once, you're guaranteed of at least twins. And there is no nine-month waiting period. It's usually a matter of days. The Pearl's seed is just that powerful.)

WTF?

2008-03-15T07:16:00.008-04:00

I'm going to abstain from commenting on yesterday's B10 tourney. Just so pathetic really. Instead watch the clip below. Not sure if this is legit or not, but if it is....holy f--king shit! I mean, (A) Tim, have your agent make the call -- or do you not have an agent? and (B) Awfully ballsy, Stephanie -- whoever you are -- to post that.

Please tell me this call fell on deaf ears. Good God. Tim Floyd? Please tell me IU is better than this.

Update: I think that call could be legit. I just used White Pages reverse lookup (yes, I realize I'm a douche, but I'm bored as hell) and the phone number comes up with an address in LA. Then, I did a White Pages search of Tim Floyd in Los Angeles and it comes up as the same address. Also, the audio sounds an awful lot like Floyd to me. Timmy might have some 'splainin' to do to the folks at USC.

Flipside Forum

2008-03-14T12:19:00.005-04:00

Saw this posted somewhere. Lets fire up the server and start emailing Greenspan...nothing against Dakich:

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Assuming Rick Barnes will not leave for Indiana, who is the leading contender to become Head Hoosier?
We talked to Barnes, and he ain't going anywhere even though the rumor's circulating here. Write that in your stone tablets. The strongest rumor is that Indiana and Louisiana State are fighting over Virginia Commonwealth's Anthony Grant, the former 10-year assistant under Billy Donovan at Florida.
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Sad we have to fight LSU for him.

-Matt W.

______________________________________________

Just our luck. The ONE pro-Grant journalist out there is some kick-ass visionary who fancies himself "Mr. Bubble" ... and who also drops the occassional "ain't" in his analyses. This isn't exactly info from Thomas Friedman. Then again ...

... f--k it. We'll take it.

(And yes -- the picture up top is a computer-generated photo of what we think Mr. Bubble looks like. Which, ironically, is a lot like Chris Farley with a Samurai sword. Whatever. He's clearly not to be trifled with. And he's all kinds of awesome.)

Who Really Cares?

2008-03-14T09:56:00.002-04:00

Aside from the Big East Tourney, who really gives a shit about the power conference tournaments? Nobody. That's who. And the only reason we even like the Big East version is because we get copious amounts of Sir Bill Raftery. One can never have enough Raftery. Never. Moving Bilas out of the studio and alongside Bill is so thoroughly awesome that it trumps all else. Not to mention the games are played at The Garden, which always makes them seem more important and interesting.

I'm sure many have been to the Big Ten Tourney. Either in Chicago or Indy. It's insufferable. The games are in the 50s and 60s and about as compelling as a minor league harness-racing event. And who in their right goddamn mind wants to sit through the debacle that is the Thursday games? I'll tell you who: compulsive gamblers and homeless people. And that's it.

And today, we get a diet of shit games -- with OSU v. MSU as the only worthwhile game to watch. Things might perk up a little on Saturday, but we also have to welcome Billy F--king Packer to town. Which is like welcoming a SARS outbreak.

Never a good thing.

The worthwhile games and stories have already taken place this week. All the small schools' tournaments have already wrapped up. Maybe I'm being a bit harsh, but it's beyond obvious that these bigger tourneys are just money grabs by the respective conferences. Fine. I've got no problem with that. But if another one of these f--ks -- say Doug Gottleib or the intolerable bracketologist Dan or Joe whatever the f--k his name is Lunardi -- claim that a team's NCAA Tourney hopes rests on whether Florida St. can get by Clemson, I just might have to stab myself in the trachea.

Just play the games and wake me up Sunday at 5pm.

TSO: The Golf Outing Recap

2008-03-13T13:26:00.004-04:00

There's no rhyme or reason to this. It's not even a real "recap," per se. It's the first 10 thoughts that popped into my brain after general coherency returned (and after the DT's thankfully subsided).

I apologize for nothing.

______________________
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(1) Do you know what "freedom" is? It's not having to say "sorry" after angrily heaving a full can of beer at a nearby saguaro because I three-putted an otherwise easy hole that would have netted me a $100 skin. Die, you f--king water-hoarding cactus. DIE!

(2) The secret of every "man trip" -- be it a bachelor party, a Vegas excursion, or the blessed golf outing -- is to avoid bringing "that guy." Because we all know "that guy," and we know what he brings to the table. And frankly, he can ruin a trip faster than you can say "felony charges."

Oddly enough, though, "that guy" -- who is usually brought by someone else -- is universally loved for the first few hours. Simply because he's bringing the noise. But soon thereafter, everyone wants to slit his douchey little throat. Why? Mainly because it becomes clear that "that guy" enjoys the following:

Starting fistfights with complete strangers;
Using copious amounts of hair gel and cocaine;
Making fun of those who cease drinking before sunrise;
Topping every story with one of his own; and,
Being hyper-competitive ... to the point of uncomfortableness.

The point is, we did NOT have a "that guy" with us.* And that's essentially why the trip scored a 99.8 out of a possible 100. (Minus 2/10ths of a point for failing to capture a havalina. These desert pigs are pretty f--king savvy, though. Next time.)
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(*As a relevant sidenote, we had a Purdue grad accompany us on the trip -- a Purdue grad most of us had never met. A friend of a friend, if you will. So heading into it, we just assumed that he was a Level 9 "That Guy" ... and we buckled up accordingly. However, he most certainly was not. And this changes everything. I mean, if Boilermakers can be exceedingly nice and cool and fun to hang out with, maybe I need to re-evaluate things. Maybe I've misjudged Al Qaeda folk too. Maybe wild boars DO in fact make fine house pets. And maybe "Indiana Beach" is like the south of France. What else have I missed the boat on? It's all so disorienting. Down is up ... East is West ... Boilermakers can be rather f--king awesome. This will take some time to digest. Moving on.)
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(3) There's a cartgirl in Scottsdale -- and I'm not saying where -- who looks exactly like Detlef Schrempf. Needless to say, we did NOT tip her the customary 200% that smoking hot cartgirls receive. We gave her more. Because she was the heart of that team! Her and Tank Thompson. God bless you, Detlef.

(4) The middle-aged spring break is far, far superior to the collegiate version. I've thought about this extensively. And I stand behind it. Because in college, you're simply finding a new, slightly different place to cut loose and be an idiot all day and night. In all honesty, it's like eating a bone-in fillet after 12 months of ribeyes and Porterhouses.

The middle-aged version, though, is much different. Much more majestic. For obvious reasons. In short, it's like a bone-in fillet after 12 grueling months of responsible Ramen noodles. It's a comparative thing, really.

(5) There's a cab driver in Scottsdale who thinks Peyton Manning is the most overrated athlete of our generation. He thought we were funny for arguing otherwise.

You know what else is funny, f--khead? Handsome Pete stuffing an open sack of Ricin underneath your passenger seat. We'll see if "full functioning use of your central nervous system" is overrated too.

(6) There are some incredibly white things in this world. Blindingly white things, actually. Things like Mormonism. And dental school. "Gray Brothers Cafeteria." Edie Brickell concerts. "Jenga" tournaments. And fantasy hockey leagues. Naples, Florida. Spelunking. Hank Haney. Emoticon usage. "Dockers" trousers. Competitive back-stroke events. And so forth.

Take whichever of those you feel is the MOST white and multiply it by about 85,000. Know what you get? You get a drunken, insanely heated, two-and-half hour discussion regarding a simple mathematics/ probabilities query. Which is what we had Monday night ... while on vacation ... when we clearly could have been shotgunning beers or bathing in peyote or pillaging various Valley hookers. (And just so we're clear here, by "insanely heated," I mean "on the very verge of fisticuffs." Real fisticuffs. I can't stress enough how much I wish I were kidding. I am not, though.)

I'd set forth the basis of the argument, but I'd run the risk of my keyboard melting into a bubbling heap. It's just that searingly white. All I know is that me and my supporters were right ... and the rest of you dumb motherf---kers are mathematically dysfunctional. Simple as that. And if you still think otherwise, you know where to find me. I said it before, I'll say it again: we can always just settle this like men.

(I'd also like to take this opportunity to point out that my main argumentative supporter was wearing a goddamn multi-colored sombrero.

Don't let that fool you, however. John Nash looked like a crazy bastard too.)

(7) Old Greatest Strip Club Song Ever: "Pour Some Sugar On Me." New Greatest Strip Club Song Ever: "Chain Hang Low." Sweet Jesus. It's just built for unprecedented, uninhibited lap-ocity. Clearly, it was composed with the sole intent to ruin as many marriages as possible (just as "I Won't Back Down" was composed with the sole intent to be played before every NBA Playoff game telecast). There's simply no doubt.

(And for the record ... Worst Strip Club Song Ever: "Battle Hymn of the Republic.")

(8) As we sat down to dinner Saturday night, a familiar face was seated next to us:

Kelvin. F--king. Sampson.

(In case you're at all interested, it marked the 38th time on the trip where Jesus was simply demanding that one of us get arrested.)
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We played it cool at first -- as cool as 10 wildly drunk, inherently obnoxious IU fans possibly could. But it most certainly didn't last long. Because to the casual observer, we must have looked like the "Time Bandits" crew nervously huddling together -- arms over necks -- figuring out what to do next. We quickly narrowed it down to the following:

Start singing the IU fight song;
Simply ask him to come sit with us for a moment -- "we had some questions";
Launch our "seafood tower" appetizer at his forehead;
Ask him if we could borrow $750,000; and,
Get up and -- one-by-one -- walk over to him and set our cell phones on his plate, "Rudy"-style.

The more amicable options got thrown out rather quickly. But not by our own doing. Sampson was just so f--king ... jovial. So carefree. He was drinking his $400 bottle of wine and yucking it up with Gregg Popovich and acting like he didn't just prison-rape the entire IU fanbase.

Un-f--king-acceptable.

Long story short, nothing came out of it ... except for Shaun Souers unleashing a mighty "We're HOOSIERS, goddamnit!" (which elicited a quick death-glare from Sampson). We never pulled the trigger on anything. Which was either very wise ... or very dumb. We haven't decided yet.
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(9) The post-big-night-out golf round is its own animal. A sluggish, wounded animal for sure ... the struggling-to-keep-up animal that quickly and easily gets picked off by large prey. Holy f--k.

Ours came Sunday morning ... roughly 48 minutes after we went to bed. So help me God, we shuffled into the pro shop smelling like a bar-room urinal -- a bar-room urinal mixed with poison and stale Camel Lights and unbrushed teeth. Certainly, nobody confused us for upstanding, non-hungover golfers. No f--king way. Not with our collective wobbly steps ... our sunglasses on ... our heads hung low ... and the fact that we were hoarsely whispering to complete (terrified) strangers if they knew where we could find some coffee.

The point is, there were no "skins" games that day. No "Nassaus." No gambling of any sort, actually. In fact, I'm fairly certain nobody even kept score. The main goal that day? To hit your shot and try to grab a quick 16-second nap ... regardless of where you were:

(10) You know it's a phenomenal trip when you start planning next year's outing on the plane ride home. Which is precisely what we did.

Next year, though, we're bagging us a havalina. Because frankly, it's the only feasible way the trip could ever get any better. Well played, gents.

The Mets. Book It.

2008-03-11T10:04:00.004-04:00

AL East- Boston Red Sox
AL Central- Detroit Tigers
AL West- L.A. Angels
AL WC- New York Yankees

AL Division Series- Tigers over Yankees/ Red Sox over Angels
ALCS- Tigers over Red Sox

NL East- New York Mets
NL Central- Milwaukee Brewers
NL West- L.A. Dodgers
NL WC- Arizona Diamondbacks

NL Division Series- Mets over Dodgers/ Brewers over Diamondbacks
NLCS- Mets over Brewers

World Series- Mets over Tigers 4-2

The Mets send Shea out in style. Sorry, no Cubs. Alright Hobbson fire away. Gotta have pitching Roy and the Cubbies don't have enough of it.

Thick D--k, Meet Mister Urinal Cake

2008-03-11T07:12:00.006-04:00

Undoubtedly, some dip shit is gonna shell out 1000 bones for this piss-covered, piece of Colts memorabilia. Who really thinks to themselves, "you know I really would like to own an item that has been spackled by both Steve Emtman and Tarik Glenn's hoglegs"? This seems like a good idea? Buying a piece of stadium turf? I can see that. One of the aisle signs? Sure. But, a used urinal?

Does the value of this thing increase if there's piss remnant from a HOF'r like Marvin or Peyton? I really am not up on what determines the value of sports memorabilia, but I'd like to think that if Ron Stark saddled up to this merriment of porcelain throughout his career it would drastically increase in value. Or at least I would hope so. You think Marv or Peyton would sign a letter of authenticity confirming said usage? Hell, that might be worth even more than the pisser itself.

"I, Peyton Manning, did hereby use this urinal, Serial # 331228.09 from 1998 until it's retirement in 2008...."

I'll continue the bidding at $600. Going once...

With Nothing Better To Do...

2008-03-10T05:29:00.010-04:00

Considering there's nothing happening in the world of sports, nothing good that is, and due to the fact I missed out on the f--king golf excursion this year, I decided to take in some local sport. Let's see: Enough Jaeger and wheat beer to kill a small horse? Check. Interesting nightlife alternatives exhausted? Check. In dire need of a sports fix? Big-time check.

One really doesn't know what to make of the Wok World Championships until you experience it. I have no doubt this will eventually make it's way stateside. Drunken stupor resulting from viewing a sporting event that involves cookery and pyrotechnics just has to. And because all hell is going to break loose in relation to IU basketball when Roy and Co. return to the Flipside offices, I've decided to get the week off to a light-hearted start. Enjoy.

Peace ... We're Out

2008-03-07T00:18:00.008-05:00

The yearly Flipside Golf Outing commences today. It ends when one of us takes a swing at some uppity cartgirl ... which is, was, and always has been five days from now. Or, alternatively, "Tuesday."

It's what Jesus wants.

In the meantime -- before we head off to that majestic fantasy land known as the "sun-soaked, dangerously drunken, the-wives-aren't-coming golf trip" -- let us issue our temporary farewells:

F--k you, office hours. F--k you, traffic jams. F--k you, sobriety and functional coherency. F--k you 26-degree "wintery mix." F--k you, Indy Star. F--k you, general hygene. F--k you, blogsphere -- if that's even you're real name. F--k you, midwestern wildlife and your utter lack of coyotes at which to launch bottle rockets. F--k you, 12-minute Hot-Pocket-filled lunch breaks. F--k you, IU coaching search. F--k you, "super delegates." F--k you, perpetually overcast skies. F--k you, liver -- you will suffer dearly. F--k you, Lou Dobbs. F--k you, shaving. F--k you, soiled diapers. F--k you, Indiana State Legislature and your highly conservative anti-peyote laws. F--k you, shoveling. F--k you, conference calls, emails, and Westlaw. F--k you, rising cholesterol levels. And f--k you, March in Indiana.

Don't worry about us. We'll be just fine.

God bless the Golf Outing.

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Attention Mr. Kravitz:

2008-03-05T13:32:00.006-05:00

From Jay Bilas' ESPN Blog (I say this without reservation, Bilas does the most even-handed, insightful college basketball analysis on the planet...he ALWAYS makes sense and never flies off the handle or play favorites - like I wish a certain lazy-eyed bald color man would stop doing)

"Pumping Coaches?: Remember when the media used to just report the news on a coaching search? If there was information as to what coaches were contacted for a job, or who were candidates on a school's list, the media would endeavor to report that. Then things degenerated into speculation with the use of the phrase "names expected to be mentioned", which was media code for "we don't have any real, hard information, but here are some names we think should be or could be candidates". Now some in the media are stumping for and pumping up candidates for open jobs. Assuming they are even qualified to do so, that is simply wrong, in my humble judgment. It is one thing to opine on the quality of a coach and the job he is doing, it is another to stump for that coach to be hired. The names being pumped have jobs, and if those coaches are asking for their names to be put out there (which happens), it is still wrong. Heck, if coaches were publicly pumping the media for jobs or to get canned, we would go wild over it. "

Deciding Who Should Cater the Indy Star Luncheon

2008-03-05T10:01:00.007-05:00

Bob Kravitz: Alright, Hutch. We've been entrusted with a very important task. Let's buckle down here. We need a top-shelf caterer, and by God, we're going to get one.

Terry Hutchens: F--k yeah! I like food.

Kravitz: Of course you do. Now, did you prepare your list like I asked?

Hutchens: Yup. I've been up for 52 hours straight ... but f--k yeah. You ready? Here goes. I've narrowed down the logical possibilities to Bobby Flay, Qdoba, White Castle, Wolfgang Puck, the NASA cafeteria, Barbara Hershey, Blimpie, George Will, Penn Station, Johnny Drama, Cheesecake Factory --

Kravitz: -- whoa whoa whoa! What the hell, Hutch? Johnny Drama's not real!

Hutchens: Hell yeah he is. Real f--king awesome. Now shut up and let me finish. Where was I? Oh yeah ... Cheesecake Factory, my cousin Lester, Burger Chef, Burger King, the Knights Templar, Craig Stadler, Julia Childs, Dave Winfield, Donatos, --

Kravitz: -- easy there, Jesse Jackson. Let's think about this for a second. Dave Winfield? Dave "I'll Probably Steal Your Office Supplies" Winfield?!? What, did you have a cup of stupid this morning? Because I'm fairly certain that the Star won't hire a black caterer. And that sucks. Because that black guy who owns Rib King would be an extraordinary candidate. But, c'mon ... let's get real here. You're better than that, Hutch. Let's keep our game-faces on.

Hutchens: You're right. You're right. My bad. Winfield's out.

Kravitz: Splendid. Any more on your list?

Hutchens: Let's see ... oh yeah -- Lawrence Olivier, Steak-n-Shake, Andrew McCarthy, Emeril Lagasse, M.C.L., and of course -- we could always just buy a f--k-load of Chips Ahoy and set them out, which would be entirely awesome too.

Kravitz: Indeed it would. This is going to be tough. White Castle was my leading candidate heading into this, obviously ... but Bobby Flay would be pretty f--king delicious too. Jesus. You really think Flay would come here?

Hutchens: Hell f--king yeah he would! I mean, he never told me "no." You do the math.

Kravitz: Sweet. Alright. Let's go get Flay. Wait ... he's not black, is he?

Hutchens: No.

Kravitz: Perfect.

OSU 80, Purdue 77

2008-03-04T22:39:00.003-05:00

[shaking head sadly]

We're mourning along with you, Boilermakers.

'Tis a dark day indeed.

Emergency Rant

2008-03-04T16:03:00.025-05:00

We've been going about this IU coaching search all wrong. We've been using logic, reason, and common sense. We've contacted people in the know. We've researched. We've been taking into account various circumstances, probabilities, and logistics. If nothing else, we've been ruling out the far-fetched choices.

F--k that. That's Bush League, apparently. The professionals go about this process in a much different way. And so shall we.

I mean, Bob Kravitz casually -- very nonchalantly -- rules out "another man of color" as if he were ruling out pasta for dinner tonight. I dunno. Not sure why. Just don't feel like it. Nothin' against pasta, really ... I'm just saying I'm not in the mood.

Oh. Well how the f--k was I supposed to know this was allowed? Like an idiot, I thought you needed to substantiate your arguments. Ummm ... you don't, obviously. And now I know this.

And then today, Terry Hutchens throws Tom Izzo's name into the fray because that's what he's "hearing." Of course, no word on who he's hearing that from. Just that he's heard it.

No shit? Well I've heard things too. But I guess I wasn't aware that they fall under the broad umbrella of "journalism." They do, apparently. And now I know that as well.

Alright. Time to go find us our coach, Indy-Star-style.

We'll start with who's out:

Anthony Grant -- He's black. Too black, actually. Tough luck, Slappy.

Sean Miller -- He strikes me as an Al Qaeda sympathizer. Not sure why, though.

Tony Bennett -- Simply put, he's a douchebag. My 2-year-old confirmed this.

Kevin Stallings -- In an episode of "According to Jim," we learned that all bald people are impotent. And if I know Rick Greenspan, he doesn't like men who fire blanks. Nobody does.

Bruce Pearl -- I hear he's functionally illiterate.

John Calipari -- Technically, he's not black. But close enough. IU just can't risk it.

Brad Brownell -- I'm pretty sure IU doesn't want to hire a card-carrying member of the F--kstick Club. Which all DePauw people are in.

Scott Drew -- The last thing IU wants to do is hire a devout Christian. That's just code for "crazy person."

Ray McCallum -- He's black. Technically and otherwise. Sorry. Out you go, Hip Hop.

You know who that leaves?

That's right. John Wooden. The f--king Wizard.

Think about it. He's (a) still alive; (b) an Indiana man, through and through; and (c) has ears the size of barcaloungers. It makes total sense. And I hear he's ready to get back in the game. I'm hearing it from enough people to think he's interested in the job at some level.

And what level would that be?

F--k it. Who cares. It doesn't matter.

Who Wrote This? (Vol. 18)

2008-03-03T13:53:00.006-05:00

Who wrote this passage?

__________________________________________________
Less than a week after being forced out as head basketball coach at Indiana, Kelvin Sampson has found a new career he feels is his true life's calling.

"The world of telemarketing is like heaven. I wish I had found this earlier in my life and not wasted so many years in basketball,” said Sampson. "I can spend all day, every day on the phone – no restrictions."

Sampson is working the Noon to 8:00 pm shift with Dial Marketing USA, Inc., but has come in every day by 7:00 a.m. to get extra calls in.
__________________________________________________
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Was it ...
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(A) Paul Riser?

(B) one of Lil Ronnie's backup dancers?

(C) DJ Gallo?

(D) the semi-finalist from the obscure "Estonia's Got Talent!" show?

(E) a comedically trained llama?

Answer below. In the meantime, enjoy this wonderful picture of Robin Quivers' luxury Manhattan condo.

Answer: (C) DJ Gallo. From this gem. Enjoy your exploded retinas.

Has Indiana Ruined Dakich?

2008-03-03T13:20:00.016-05:00

Is this what Dan Dakich will think of when he recalls his tenure as Indiana University's Head Coach?

The most beautiful woman he's ever met has finally said she'd go out with him, but there's one condition...she's into some weird stuff. He has to agree to play along. "It'll all be worth it. I just really need someone who understands me and you've always been there for me." she says. Poor Dan...Greenspan did this to him, the one man still there who cherished and respected the program and the university.

Dakich in '08 Campaign Still Alive

2008-03-03T09:15:00.005-05:00

Despite rumors to the contrary, we are not done fighting. We're going Mike Huckabee with this thing right now. If he can pull this team out of the current doldrums, we're going to go after the superdelegates and get this deal done.

YES WE CAN!!

(I'm Skeeter Barnes, and I alone approve this post.)

Flipside Exclusive Video: IU Coaches Meet to Strategize for MSU Game

2008-03-03T08:51:00.004-05:00

How did Dan Dakich and assitant coach Jeff Meyer go about preparing the IU gameplan?

Haphazardly. The went about it haphazardly. At best.

Below is exclusive video footage of Dakich and Meyer -- a mere 45 minutes before tip-off yesterday -- mapping out their strategy to topple the Spartans. Quite telling, frankly.

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And Now, On to Other Sports

2008-03-02T21:53:00.003-05:00

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2008/more/03/02/bc.ttn.teamworldchampio.ap/index.html?eref=si_more

Maybe I should quit complaining that I can't watch IU. The box score looked pretty ugly. At least I can still see all the ping-pong I can stomach.

Looks like the only way the USA can bring home the gold in ping-pong is if we lobby to introduce a beer-pong variant.

Ugly

2008-03-02T18:34:00.003-05:00

Nothing more to say really.

GTN: Office Candy

2008-02-29T16:47:00.012-05:00

That's it. I'm done contemplating about anything even remotely connected to IU basketball for the next 48 hours. Why? Because I just contacted every basketball source I know to make sure I hadn't somehow missed the boat on Paul Hewitt. (I didn't. That boat isn't going anywhere.) I'm burned out.

No more Indiana basketball. Until Sunday.

In the meantime, let us focus on one of the great American traditions: the office candy jar. Because frankly, every office has at least one. Probably more. And they're most often run by a kindly middle-aged woman who:

enjoys visiting with co-workers during office hours;
learned long ago that the best way to do this is to lure them to her web with candy; and
does not put out chocolate, lest she be tempted to eat the whole jar herself.

So what does that amount to? An endless well of sweet, sugary, hard candy. The working-man's heroin. Which is precisely what I just went hunting for.

Except when I got there, the jar looked like someone had stuffed a f--king Picasso painting inside of it -- and then sprinkled dust over it. "What is this stuff, Trudy?" I asked, rather indignantly. "Old stained glass?"

"Home-made rock candy," she replied. "So what's new with you? I was watching 'Barefoot Contessa' today and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah." I wasn't even listening. I was too busy studying this odd assortment of multi-colored shrapnel ... and wondering what the ramifications would be if I kicked over her filing cabinet, "Gymkata"-style. Dismayed, I chose to just taste one instead. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad. Plus, my need for sugar outweighed my fear of having an incisor sawed in half.

The point is, it tasted like crystallized pool water. With old nails sticking out of it.

Totally, unjustifiably, and criminally unacceptable. Seriously. And I don't care if I sound ungrateful. This just isn't right. It's pretty f--king far from "right," actually. Which is why I'm now taking action.

Sure, my teeth are bleeding -- and my digestive tract is currently being serrated into dysfunction -- but I don't care. This is America, goddamnit. And in America, there are only FIVE acceptable forms of office candy.

In reverse order of awesomeness, they are as follows:

(5) Sweet Tarts -- Delicious ... sugary ... varied in flavor. Everything you need. Of course, they're not flashy. But they're the whole package. And fantastically reliable. Frankly, they're the Honda Accord of the candy world.

(4) Gobstoppers -- As long as you know what you're getting into -- and as long as you don't try to rush it -- they're well worth it. Because sugar-wise, these little dynamos pack a wallop.

(3) Sprees* -- If the Sweet Tarts are an Accord, then Sprees are its more refined -- more polished -- sibling. The Acura RL, if you will.

*And as a sidenote, the special edition "Valentine's Day Sprees" were celestial. Nothing but reds (cherry) and whites (some mystical, yet-to-be-named flavor). They were the undisputed #1 ranked candy of all time. Except they got taken off the market last year -- most likely because they're about as addictive as Oxycontin. I'm starting a "Save Darfur"-like campaign to bring them back, though. We'll see.)

(2) Skittles -- Universally and repeatedly under-appreciated ... until you grab a handful. Because Skittles never, ever, EVER leave you unsatisfied. They're everything you could ask for in a candy. Especially the rare "Wild Berry" variety. They're majestic. And only surpassed by ...

(1) Jolly Ranchers -- The King of the f--king Jungle. Period. I'm out.

Welcome to 1951 Indiana

2008-02-29T09:24:00.008-05:00

Sorry, colored folk ... keep on moving. Nothing personal. We're not saying you wouldn't make fine coaches. We're just saying you won't be doing that here, at Indiana. You know ... because you're colored:

Drop a call on Paul Hewitt of Georgia Tech, who once took the Yellow Jackets to the Final Four. The sad reality is, IU is unlikely to hire another man of color -- why, I don't know -- but Hewitt would be an extraordinary candidate.

...............................--Bob Kravitz, from today's column

Holy. Jesus. Fuck. Almighty.

And wait. PAUL HEWITT??? PAUL HEWITT????? Paul Hewitt doesn't even think Paul Hewitt is "an extraordinary candidate" for the IU coaching job. Not necessarily because he's black -- although that IS a deal-breaker, apparently -- but rather because Georgia Tech's RPI ranking over the last couple years is somewhere in the 673 range. Who in their right goddamn mind ever considered Paul Hewitt for anything?

[head throbbing ... scratching eyes vigorously with staple gun]

What the fuck is going on in this city?

Wrong Meds or Jackass Writer?

2008-02-29T08:41:00.009-05:00

Bob Kravitz? I've got to be clear on this. I don't like the guy. (Sorry for the dig, Larry. Not really.) Hypocrisy and flip flopping are qualities we look for in political candidates and religious leaders ... not sports columnists. He's spouting wisdom from on high today on what IU should do regarding the coaching search. His disshevelled line of reasoning and logic is astounding. It's like halfway through the column, he saw something shiny and it wrecked his train of coherent thought.

When I say "due diligence," which is just a fancy way of saying, "yeah, we checked a couple of references," I mean looking under every rock. If this guy has so much as improperly used rollover minutes, strike him off the list. If he has so much as one impermissible phone call, or if he has any other skeletons in his closet, tell him buh-bye.

I would also give a call to Louisville's Rick Pitino, to Michigan State's Tom Izzo, to Memphis' John Calipari and to Texas' Rick Barnes. It's unlikely Pitino, Izzo and Barnes would leave, and with deeper study, Calipari's slickness might not be a fit in Bloomington, but you must go for it. (And while we're working the phones, why not try Ohio State's Thad Matta, just for giggles. What's the worst he can say? No?)

Didn't he say something about "skeletons in the closet," "due diligence" and "looking under every rock" before he said IU has to make a run at Calipari? Kravitz thinks it's "slickness" that rules out Calipari, not anything else? This from a guy who was screaming about the hiring of a troubled Sampson from day one. (That pains me to say in so many ways.) Get a clue, Jheri curl. At least give IU a chance to heed your advice on getting someone squeaky clean before you tell them to fly in the face of it.
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"We've Got To Be Very Clear on This, We Don't Want Our Players Hanging Around with Murderers" -- Larry Bird, 2/28/08

2008-02-28T17:12:00.009-05:00

I don't even know where to begin with this so I'll just say the following: are you f--king kidding me?? Put aside the issue of Shawne Williams taking a huge lead in the race for the Pacers' 2008 Pacman Jones Thug Crew Trophy. And ignore the gay theater director hat trick Larry pulled off with today's black pants, black mock turtleneck, black blazer ensemble.

Let's instead focus on the fact that the Pacers have reached the point where they need to preface "we don't want our players hanging out with murderers" with "we've got to be clear on this." Really, Larry? Pheeeew! Because for a minute there it wasn't certain whether the Pacers, in fact, supported murderers ridin' dirty with our first round picks. Indeed, but for your unambiguous introduction, Tinsley might've gone all Jules Winfield Ezekial 25:17 on some neighborhood kids tonight. So thank you, Larry. Now that we're all on the same page, can we pleeeease get back to playing some 20-games-under-.500 ball?

One Final Note On Mr. Grant

2008-02-28T07:57:00.005-05:00

Before Roy's enlightening Anthony Grant Manifesto, I honestly never really thought about him for IU. After some deep pondering, here are some quick thoughts that came to mind:

(1) He's obviously a really, really good guy after hearing what Hobbson had to say. And, Roy ... you really didn't need to put the name-dropping disclaimer. You can mention Thurl Bailey anytime you like. I love that glorious man.

(2) He's highly thought of. Florida was ready to hand over a back-to-back title winning program to him. You see, UF Athletic Director Jeremy Foley is like the Bill Polian of the college world ... he doesn't f--k around. He's not bringing in some dipshit. Far from it. Because unlike the clusterf--k that has been the IU athletic department the last decade, Florida's has been arguably the best in the country. Foley has made two great hires in Donovan and Urban Meyer -- not to mention Florida is pretty damn competitive in most of the non-revenue generating sports. UF people are not stupid. And it's not like there was much of a search done at Florida. They knew Grant was their guy. Good enough for me. It's like outsourcing our decision making process (which isn't a bad idea, by the way). We know our people have a panache for screwing things up. Might as well let them handle it.

(3) His players don't quit. Remember last year after VCU beat Duke and they were down like 20 to Pitt with 10 to go? They eventually tied it up and lost in OT, I recall. Lots and lots of vodka tonics being consumed in the Mandalay sportsbook so its a little hazy. So, he's obviously a good motivator. He had to be to get those kids to believe they could make the comeback. Sure, having Eric Maynor helps, but he wasn't alone. And yes, that's an extremely small sample size, but it's telling all the same.

(4) He can recruit. He was instrumental in landing all the UF guys. The thing I'm even more impressed with is that none of those UF guys were really that highly thought of coming out of HS. Here's a quick listing of their rankings according to one service. (Save "the-rankings-don't- mean-shit!" argument, I'm just trying to illustrate my point here)

Lee Humphrey 81
Corey Brewer 31
Al Horford 36
Joakim Noah 75
Taurean Green 105

Every coach out there can recognize the can't-miss prospects. That's not all that difficult. It's being able to figure out how various pieces can come together and form a team. Look again at those rankings. Not a single obvious, elite, blue-chipper. Grant obviously had some input from Donovan, so it's not like he was flying solo ... but he was the head recruiter, which says he most likely informed Donovan as to these kids. Point blank he recognizes potential in players.

I'm not really sure what IU fans want. We here at Flipside have been talking about this for a couple weeks now. We've got flavor-of-the-month guys like Bruce Pearl (tell me that guy wouldn't be living out at "Cocktail Cove" on Geist with his shirt off for the better part of the offseason), Brad Brownell (you people are f--king kidding, right?) and Tony Bennett (meh).

And then you've got the not-a-chance-in-hell options: Matta, Crean, Wimp Sanderson, Jay Wright, ... etc.

Finally, you've got the realistic options in Sean Miller, Kevin Stallings and Anthony Grant.

I could live with Sean Miller, mainly because I absolutely love the way his team's play and how he's progressed every year at Xavier.

But, for all the aforementioned reasons, I'm now firmly in the Anthony Grant camp. If you've got the time, check out one of his press conferences. Extremely refreshing. Thoughtful analysis and none of the coach speak/sports cliche-laden talk that is so prevalent today. He's 41 and we'd be looking at a guy capable of coaching IU long-term.

Alright, the Anthony Grant love-fest is officially over. For now.

Let the IU Coaching Search Begin

2008-02-27T09:31:00.015-05:00

Nobody's saying Dan Dakich isn't IU's long-term solution. But we're not not saying it either. Out of respect for Dirty Dan, we should probably reserve judgment.

But we should remain vigilant. You know ... just in case. It's the heady move, really.

Therefore, I've decided to enter the fray that I promised I never would: the whole who-should-be-IU's-next-coach? debate. I'm listing the leading candidates and their accompanying pros & cons.

However, I'm just going to go about in the exact same fashion that Rick Greenspan would: I'm basing these assessments on the things I've read, the things I think, the things I've heard, the things I've thought I've heard, questionable sources, my Ouija board, unsubstantiated rumors, visions, and shit I've just out-and-out made up. It's the American way.

In no particular order ...

.
___________________________________________

KEVIN STALLINGS

Pros: a battle-tested warhorse and disciplinarian; his hair line makes him appear scholarly and wholesome; doesn't accept most forms of tomfoolery; phenomenal coach.

Cons: a f--king Boilermaker; openly distrustful of foreigners; high probability that he'd slam a folding chair over Jamarcus Ellis' head; we'd always be suspicious that he's trying to tear down the IU program from the inside (aka, "the single greatest prank of all time").
___________________________________________

BRUCE PEARL

Pros: main-lines Red Bull; won widespread street cred after inventing "Truck Nutz"; freakishly high testosterone levels; unparalleled love-maker.

Cons: everything else.
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SCOTT SKILES

Pros: doesn't require sleep; knows Terry Catledge well; highly skilled in the deadly art of Persian archery; knows more about basketball than any person on the planet; hobbies include "precision" and "punctuality."

Cons: potentially crazy.
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RICK MAJERUS

Pros: brilliant tactician; openly defies the Vatican; outspoken nudist; co-wrote "The French Connection."

Cons: health concerns; renowned Keith Van Horn apologist; demonstrated questionable decision-making/physical prowess during summer trip to New Zealand (see below).

___________________________________________

JAY WRIGHT

Pros: a noted "winner" since age 4; looks like a young Alan Thicke; tireless recruiter; appears to be of Hungarian descent; single-handedly turned Speedy Claxton into a household name.

Cons: possibly underachieves with Villanova; went shirtless -- while holding a Dalmatian puppy -- as "Mr. September" in the Philadelphia Fire Dept. Charity Calender; somehow remains impeccably tanned throughout long Northeastern winters; entire name is only two syllables (a sign of weakness in most advanced cultures); just like Linda Cohn and Billy Joel, has strong Long Island allegiances.
___________________________________________

SEAN MILLER

Pros: as blatantly Hoosierish as a non-Hoosier can possibly be; scores a lofty 9.7 on the University of Belgrade Scrappiness Scale; a vocal champion in the fight against Osgood-Slaughter Disease; unabashed ass-kicker; successfully outwitted the Dark Riders of the Nazgûl.

Cons: dangerously high-strung; carries same emotional baggage that most diminutive people carry; possibly already tarnished by prolonged exposure to the Cincinnati Hilljack scene; allowed Jordan Crawford to torch Xavier to the tune of 3-for-38 from the field.
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ANTHONY GRANT

Pros: became national hero after VCU's tourney win over Duke last year; impeccably dressed; rumored to be a bonafide ninja; instantly heals IU's image problems in roughly 28 different ways.

Cons: historically, nothing good comes out of VCU; inexperienced head coach; is not Mexican; prone to uncontrollable outbreaks of that f--king "It's good to be a Florida Gator!" chant; zero Indiana ties.
___________________________________________

CHUCK MARLOW

Pros: endlessly noble and suave; intimately familiar with program; knighted by Queen Elizabeth in 1983; vehemently detests Purdue people and hippies; feels strongly that IU's uniforms should incorporate belts.

Cons: (none)
___________________________________________

TONY BENNETT

Pros: awesome black-sounding name; NBA 2nd round pick; could lure formidable Norse post-players away from Wisconsin; appears to be a basketball savant; speaks fluent Dutch; adept at knifing those who sarcastically refer to him as the "Velvet Fog."

Cons: looks like Murray from "The Wiggles"; possible smoker; white guys named "Tony" are usually nare-do-wells; potentially egomaniacal -- not unlike Björk.
___________________________________________

Unnecessary libel aside, they'd probably all make fine hires. Or so I'd think. The problem is, I thought Kelvin Sampson was a fine hire as well. Which is precisely why I'm not thinking anymore. Thinking only works for petty thieves and women.

This time around, I want to know.

And the fact of the matter is this: I know Anthony Grant. And I know he's a perfect fit for Indiana.

(We're entering the "tread lightly" portion of the post now. A very dangerous portion indeed. Because there's a thin line between "name-dropping douchebag" and "informative source." You have to trust me on this: my only intent here is to add some insight about someone who this region probably knows little about. Nothing else, I swear. I mean, when Judy Tenuta and Thurl Bailey and I get together as we often do ... you rarely hear about it. You know why? Because I'm not a name-dropping douchebag. That's why. Back to Grant.)

I got to know him when he recruited me to college. In fact, he's a large reason that I went there. And even though he left before I arrived, we kept in touch during his stint at Florida. The point is, I spent more than enough time with him to confidently say this: he's one of the most incessantly nice, articulate, charismatic, dignified, inherently badass people I've ever met. He's borderline regal. Like a young Sidney Poitier. He's one of those people you pass in the airport -- where you don't even know who they are -- and you instantly realize that they're famous. Or that they will be.

And I know what you're thinking:

Hey, f--ktard ... that's all well and good, but you didn't even PLAY for Grant. And yet you're promoting him as IU's next COACH?!?! You, sir, are a douche. Why should we listen to you?

Fair enough. That's why I emailed my friend from college -- someone who not only played for Grant, but is the single most cynical, distrustful, and brutally honest person I know. Being the perfect advance scout that he is, I simply asked him what his impressions of Grant were. Nothing more, nothing less. Here's his verbatim response:

He's smart, caring, motivated, pure. Great coach. What I remember most is his time and patience with me during my ACL surgery and re-hab. He was encouraging and, for whatever reason, hugged me a lot....kept me going. I ran into him in Vegas years later and we hugged again and he was very into my life and what I was doing. He's just a solid guy and I really can't say enough about him. I would trust him to raise my sons.

And for the record, it's not like my friend is prone to hyperbole. Nor is he some kind of Affirmative Action champion. Quite the contrary; he doesn't even particularly like black people. Or white people. He doesn't particularly like anyone. And he trusts nobody. Quadruplely so for f--king coaches -- who we both agreed were generally a pack of organized terrorists.

And I know what you're thinking here too:

Fine. He's a good guy. We get it. Shut the f--k about it already. You know what? That guy from "Benson" was a good guy as well ... maybe IU should hire him. Or maybe they should hire a good guy who's a good f--king basketball coach too. Moron.

Again, I'm only telling you what I know. That's kind of the point here. We need everyone to know ... not think. "Thinking" leads to "not being totally sure." And "not being totally sure" leads to hiring Mike Davis and Kelvin Sampson. And those two have led me to want to ram a cleaver into my shoulder blade. This isn't funny anymore.

F--k "think." We need to "know."

So know this: the University of Florida hired Grant this summer after Billy Donovan's retarded twin signed them on as the Orlando Magic coach. The able minded Donovan, of course, reneged on the deal about 48 hours later ... so you might have missed it. Most people did. Most non-Florida folk didn't know that the two-time defending NCAA champions -- and the undisputed Team of the Millenium -- had completely turned over the program's reins to a young, relatively unknown Anthony Grant.

Shaun Souers -- who wasn't at all sold on Grant -- didn't know this. And when I told him, he was immediately on board. Honest to God, he rhetorically asked, "What more do we need to know?"

Exactly.

Why IU Keeps Winning...

2008-02-27T05:59:00.009-05:00

The main reason IU has been so successful these last 8 games has been free throw shooting. IU is getting to the stripe more than their opponents and are converting those attempts. Here's a look at the free throw disparity for the last 8 games:

IU 19-24 Ohio St. 6-8WIN
IU 30-37 N'western 15-19 WIN
IU 30-34 Purdue 11-21 WIN
IU 10-11 Michigan St. 12-16 WIN
IU 15-20 Whisky 3-5 LOSS
IU 7-7 Ohio St. 4-8 WIN
IU 22-29 Illinois 8-17 WIN
IU 17-21 N'western 7-9 WIN

IU 150-183 Opponents 66-103

Outside of the Michigan St. game, IU not only attempted more FT's than each opponent they made more than their opponent attempted (except OSU, narrowly). Those are just dominating statistics. Of course one has to take into account the talent disparity between IU and several of it's opponents, but it's impressive nonetheless. Sure, there are a variety of other factors on why teams win or lose, but FT differential is a biggie. Looking ahead this is one of the key reasons I think IU will still be playing the 2nd weekend of the tourney. It's also a big reason why I think the Memphis's of the college basketball world aren't going to win the title.

The FT match up will be a major factor in this weekend's game against Michigan St. If IU wins this battle it will go a long way toward pulling out a win in East Lansing. The particularly impressive thing about the success at the stripe is how well IU has shot it to close out games. I really have no idea how they are doing in the last 5 minutes of games, but I'd be willing to bet it's pretty damn good. The primary reason I believe FT stats are so important is that it shows, for the most part, who the aggressor usually is. Sure, FT's stats are often times skewed because of end of game fouling, but it's still a pretty good indicator of who wins games. IU is most successful when they're penetrating the ball and drawing a foul or kicking it out for an open 3. Or dumping it into DJ and letting him go to work.

In IU's 4 losses the FT shooting looked like this:

Opponents 60-87
IU 45-56

Bottom line IMO, this and rebound differential are the most important battles to be won by all teams, but especially so in IU's case. Just something to keep an eye on.

Don't Worry Dan...I'm Here to Help

2008-02-26T20:59:00.003-05:00

I like Dan Dakich. I don't have much of a logical reason for why, other than the fact that I've met the man and had beers with him (back around 1996 or so) and I really thought he was a cool guy. I guess I'm kind of easy....because based on that interaction, I am pulling for him deep down to get the long-term nod on the bench. That being said, I've noticed a few things that aren't going to help his cause. Dan, grab some pine and read carefully...together we can do this.

1. Drop the dopey smile, post-game wave to the crowd. This makes you look like a small-timer. IU fans have been through the "feel-good, underdog" interim coach syndrome before. They are not likely to be swayed by it again. (Although Dan Dakich speaks a passable English so the comparison is not entirely fair, but Dan, trust me).

2. Thread up my man. The whole rag-tag ensemble with the hideously arranged necktie has to go. It works when you have coached Temple for 67 years, otherwise it just makes you look, again, like a small-timer that is in over his head. You have been a D1 head coach for 10 years and served in the pressure cooker of the Bob Knight program for 12....dress for success fella.

3. Slowly but surely, challenge this team. Yes, right now would be a pretty lousy time to note that the Ohio State game was like watching your grandparents film amateur porn. But as another week or so passes, this team needs to get the notion in its head that nobody else in the conference gives a flying f**k that Kelvin Sampson got fired. The media comments about how tough these guys are need to slowly meld into mild challenges. Showing a little fire (without completely throwing anybody under the bus) will also show the fan base and the administration that there's a hard-nosed man in charge.

4. Kiss ass until it feels good. There are four recruits signed by the Sampson regime. If three of them come after getting to know you...I honestly think it would take a monumental collapse this season to keep you from getting the gig. Hug them, rub them (is there an NCAA rule against that?), and metaphorically pleasure them. Count the phone calls though. As per three-ways, stick to your wife (hot) and the blonde sitting next to her at the game tonight (unless she is blood relations, if so, I apologize - totally out of line).

We can do this Dan.

Dakich Post-Northwestern-Game Press Conference

2008-02-23T22:43:00.015-05:00

Anthony Calhoun (WISH-TV8): Coach, how does it feel to get your first win?

Interim Coach Dan Dakich: Cinderella story. Outta nowhere. A former grad-assistant, now about to become a Final Four coach. F--k you, Northwestern. You and your 8,000 back-cuts. In the immortal words of Jean Paul Sartre, Au revoir, Wildcats.
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An IU Official FINALLY Takes the Podium

2008-02-22T16:15:00.011-05:00

Hi. I'm Stan, the kick-ass Indiana University PR Director. You all need to shut the f--k up already. Quit bitching, you little bitches. We'll get this press conference started when I say so. Not a minute before. F--k!

But first, I have to run to CVS to pick up some shit ... then I have to hand out like a kajillion more press passes to your a-hole friends ... and I'm supposed to get Coach what's-his-dick to sign these papers. And somewhere in there, I HAVE to take a dump. Seriously. That's like priority ONE right now. I feel like there's a f--king wombat in my lower intestine.

So ... chill the f--k out and be patient and bear with me. We'll get this started here soon. And then you f--king hyenas can get the f--k out of here. I have Pokeno tonight.

A Quick IU Respite

2008-02-22T13:37:00.005-05:00

In the Hierarchy of Mesmorizing Visuals, this stands alone. And if it was ever put into Fathead form, it quickly breaks every commerce record on the books. Guaranteed.

(Resume IU-related consternation.)

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Point Of Parliamentary Procedure

2008-02-22T02:31:00.014-05:00

Is this a college basketball season playing out, or an episode of Young and The Restless? It seems the players have dropped the proverbial Jimmy Chitwood right on Rick Greenspan's face. And to be perfectly honest with you, I'm pretty damn happy about it. Not because I think Sampson should stay -- and certainly not because this continues to make my alma mater a laughingstock. But because somebody -- quite publicly -- has told the powers that be in Bloomington to get f--ked. And frankly, it's long overdue. I love this excerpt:

"Greenspan asked if he should just cancel the whole season," one source said. "And the player told him 'We don't care what you do. But if Sampson ain't coaching, we ain't playing.' And then they just walked out."

If ever a group of people took inspiration from the movies Hoosiers and Animal House and more effectively crammed it down someone's mug, I've never seen it before. My guess is DJ White uttered the above quote. And did he ever channel his inner Otter Stratton...

I remember well the fiasco that resulted from the poor leadership at IU in the hiring of Mike Davis. They let political correctness, and more specifically, the players dictate their decision making. Were they right? Of course not. And IU basketball suffered greatly.

Now they are faced with a similar ultimatum. What now? Are the players being reasonable or responsible? Hell no. Could this put IU basketball in the hurt-locker for several years? Absolutely. I'm of the belief though that in order to truly get on the track to recovery, you've got to hit rock bottom. And from the looks of things, if the players follow through on their threat, IU basketball will be staring the Mariana Trench right in the face. If IU's leaders didn't have such a history of incompetence then I'd be inclined to tell the players they can go to hell, but that just isn't the case. I will acknowledge that the players boycotting games is asinine. Calling HPER Court 1, HPER Court 1 do you copy?

A boycott would obviously destroy this season, which by the team's recent performance suggests a possible conference title and decent tourney run. But if these players do follow through, the end result will be a colonoscopy to the Indiana leadership hierarchy the likes of which never seen before.

The Man with The Plan

2008-02-21T18:09:00.003-05:00

I have to admit, when I read last year that Dan Dakich was taking an administrative position within the IU program, I was a bit surprised. Certainly, 10 years of D1 coaching experience could land him a position on the bench of a major program, at least as a near-top assistant. Seeing him lip into this non-coaching position was even a little sad for me (I've met the man, he's a great guy and I'm openly hoping he gets the job long term).

Slowly but surely, however, this seemingly odd decision to return looks to be absolute wizardry. In fact, what are the odds he took the job with an eye on possible, ahem, trouble brewing within the program. Suddenly, that limp doesn't look so bad does it?

I'm So F---ing Tired Of Tinsley and O'Neal

2008-02-21T17:51:00.009-05:00

Let's take a break from stressing about the Dan Dakich Era to hurl some bitter insults at the equally talented team 45 minutes north of Bloomington. Why, you ask? Because yet another NBA trade deadline has come and gone and these two injury prone a-holes are still -- well -- our injury prone a-holes.

The Pacers are in a terrible position: not good enough to make the playoffs and not bad enough to score a Top 3 lottery pick. Any reasonable GM would trade Often Injured and Always Injured for some young talent, first round picks and expiring contracts. This move may not result in Conseco sell-outs, but it sure as hell would give some hope and direction to a franchise in desperate need of both. But we can't trade them this year for the same reason we couldn't do it the past three years -- Tinsley and O'Neal are still gangbanging the crap out of the injured list for the 1,389th time in their respective careers.

I mean, I've seen nursing home puke logs more healthy than this. When will Bird and Walsh start questioning why Tinsley can come away unscathed from his 29 various encounters with assault rifles, yet still miss 10 games because of a runny nose? As for JO, I don't doubt the guy is a competitor or that his knees are probably in a Jonathan Bender-like degenerative state. But how many killer moments has he given us over the years? More importantly, how many killer moments has he given us without Reggie, Artest, and/or Jackson on the floor? (Wait, that was a trick question because I forgot to tell you two things: (1) only three players in the NBA make more money than Jermaine O'Neal, and (2) the Pacers owe him $44 million dollars over the next two seasons. That's roughly $250,000 for every game he plays -- or sits -- until 2011).

It gets worse. A brief detour to Real GM revealed that -- combined -- Tinsley and O'Neal have played in less than 60% of the Pacers' games since 2003-2004. That's right. Since 2003-2004 these guys sat in suits and mouthed their cell numbers to sluts in the crowd in 2 out of every 5 games the Pacers have played. Think about that the next time you and your lady are enjoying $7 Buds and a hot sausages from Section 221 while watching Diener and Murphy blow a 2-1 fastbreak.

There's no question that Bird and Walsh have been trying to get rid of these guys. But ... umm ... maybe they should stop proposing that three-way for LeBron, Garnett, and the 1986 version of Magic Johnson. Get some picks, dump some salary and pray that the lottery balls spit EJ or Derrick Rose onto Maryland Street. Just don't come crying to me this June when the Knicks select EJ with the fourth pick and the Pacers convince you that this guy was a steal with the eleventh.

Carry on.

Why Are They Waiting?

2008-02-21T16:50:00.003-05:00

An IU official has denied the reports of Sampson's firing. Hell, he's even denying that there is talk of a contract buyout.

Is this what we're afraid of?

From ESPN.com

COLUMBUS, Ohio -- Having lost its final appeal, Ohio State will pay former basketball coach Jim O'Brien almost $3 million for wrongfully firing him.

The Ohio Supreme Court on Wednesday declined to hear Ohio State's appeal of the coach's lawsuit against the university, signaling an end to a lengthy court battle.

Not even close to the same thing. Sampson's contract allows for an out. It could be argued that since Indiana is an at will state, the point is moot anyway. Pull the trigger already. Let's get on with it.

Breaking News

2008-02-21T13:58:00.001-05:00

Mike Myers: We need your help. Apparently, IU assistant coach Dan Dakich is replacing Kelvin Sampson.

Kanye West: Kelvin Sampson is a lying motherf--ker who hates America in general, Indiana folk specifically.

Mike Myers: [horrified silence]

Crazy Ladies!!

2008-02-21T12:01:00.003-05:00

Much has been made about Michelle Obama's recent ill advised words about pride in her country. As an Obama supporter and volunteer I have been asked if her recent slip up bothered me. Not only does it not bother me, it further affirms my belief in him as a leader. Political Scientists study 'Game Theory'. Economists look at the effects of globilization and its relationship to the political climate. Historians look at the cycles of history. However, as a Senior Fellow at the Flipsidian Institute I have a new theory to propogate. I firmly believe that the overall bat shit craziness and the degree of mental instability of the spouse holds an inverse relationship to the effectiveness of the leader. In short, if the Pres has a mental milkshake for a wife, he will lead us to the promised land. Hillary take note. If you marry Ron Artest, the country will have roads paved with gold and homeless veterans will live on clouds that serve as the base camp for rainbows.

I have substantial evidence to support the Crazy=Great thesis.

1. Martha Washington: The mother of our nation was willing to French Revolution kiss a guy with cow's teeth. That is one kinky dame. What did her husband do? He sent the crooked toothed hegemon packing back to England. Returned power to the people after two terms. Ensured stability to the country that would eventually give the world the airplane, the Hot Pocket, and the Police Academy series.

2. Thomas Jefferson's wife (I have no idea what her name was): Yes she died before he became our third President, but she obviously had a broken moral compass. Let's just say that Thomas J had an interesting conceptualization of "Employer/Employee" relations. Despite his despicable homelife, he did double the size of the country for the cost of a Little Debbie Star Crunch at the Circle K.

3. Mary Todd Lincoln: Her egg was clearly scrambled. She made Britney Spears look like Meredith Baxter Birney on Family Ties. What did old Abe do? He freed Thomas Jefferson's kids. Saved the United States of America and solved the most profound crisis in our nation's history. Note: Southerner's save your "States Rights" bullshit. You wanted to drop out and keep your slaves. We kicked your ass. Get over it!

4. Eleanor Roosevelt: Let's just say she was a Fever season ticket holder. What was the result of this affinity for flannel shirts and comfortable shoes? FDR insured our banks. Allowed old people to move to Florida and have the means to pay young women to clean their urine. Put food on peoples tables and popped Adolf Hitler like a zit.

5. Bess Truman: Lived with her parents until she was nearly 60 and threatened to pummel a reporter who wrote a negative story about their daughter. Harry proceeded to take out his frustration, by ending a 'Big One', winning the opening round of a 'Cold One', rebuilding Europe and Japan, and convincing Americans that hanging black people from trees was a bit of a problem.

6. Jackie Kennedy Onassis: Yes she was hot, and not in a 'she's not bad for a politician's wife kind of way'. She was really hot. However, few remember that she actually found Aristotle Onassis attractive. Not only did he look as if he was comprised of extra skin from his elbow, he had the distinct look of a man who smelled of gyros and Pall Mall's. Yet, JFK got the Russians to stop testing nukes and the Peace Corps was created, therefore giving a place of employment to 83% of Orchard graduates.

7. Nancy Reagan: Totally nuts. Told her husband to schedule cabinet meetings according to Astrological charts. What did Ronnie do? He got Gorby to tear down the wall, made Americans feel good again, and became a religous figure for 98% of the patrons of Champps Americana.

On the flipside.

Pat Nixon never made a mistake.
Lou Hoover was a bastian of class.
Rosalyn Carter was the quintessential modern woman.
Laura Bush would be a fine leader of the Carmel Clay PTA.

I am not saying that Michelle Obama is unstable or crazy. She seems by all accounts to be a decent and likeable woman. However, if she starts jumping on Oprah's couch be ready to get a pay raise, a tax rebate, and to have Coca-Cola spewing from your faucet.

The Waiting

2008-02-21T09:18:00.001-05:00

Now that we're waiting for the results of Chuckle's internal investigation, I thought about where the fan base (and myself) sat on this issue. We know ~~Chief~~ Sampson had a history, there were improper calls made, there were some lame explanations, the NCAA called "bullshit," IU is atop the Big 10 standings and playing their best ball of the year. This report is either going to say that Sampson lied or he didn't. What's next in each situation?

Outcome #1 - He Lied

That's it. He's gone. Which begs the question, "Why has he continued to be on the bench?" What's that say about the integrity of the university and the ability of the leaders to actually lead? If he's lied, then they obviously had to know that prior to the NCAA coming back with the allegations. I find it hard to believe they just shipped the Ice Miller anal probe to Miles' Merry Men and stopped looking into it while they waited for a reaction. That means they knew about the lies and hoped they could buy enough time to get through the season or hoped that the NCAA would just shrug it's collective shoulders, pat IU on the ass and say "Good game." There are no winners with this outcome. None.

Outcome #2 - He Didn't Lie

Now what? You've got a zealous NCAA telling you that he did and you've basically said, "F--k you. He's our guy and we believe him when he says he didn't knowingly mislead us. He's just dumb." How do you reconcile that? Now you've got a pissed off NCAA Infractions Committee Forensic Audit Team crawling through your darkest places and a coach who doesn't know enough to make sure that everything is being followed to the letter, lest his professional career be toast. Fast forward to June when the NCAA drops the hammer. Because no matter how clean a program is, there will always be areas open to interpretation that will be probed and everyone will have to stand tall before the man, explaining minutiae from years ago.

(To those of you who have been involved in an audit, how often have the auditors came back and said, "Nope. Couldn't find a single thing that needs to be explained or improved. Clean as a whistle, inside and out. Carry on as you were." Exactly.)

Make no mistake, they'll wield their Thor-ish hammer swiftly and destructively. There's no winner in this scenario either ... but the aftermath is more devastating and the recovery time is decades rather than years.

I find myself in the uncomfortable position of hoping Sampson is a liar and an internal investigation spells that out in no uncertain terms. Let's take the bitter pill and move on. Move on to yet another coaching search. Move on to more rebuilding. Move on to the future faster than we will if IU defends the indefensible.

Flipside Forum

2008-02-20T16:56:00.007-05:00

Martha Webster aka Martha the Cleaning Lady will be interviewed by Terri on 93.1 WIBC FM on Friday at 8:05am

Thought you'd be interested since you have a page of requests for the video clip of her.... by the way, this is her daughter and I would appreciate it if you could send any and all clips to me if you have a chance!

Thank you,
Pandora Pappas

___________________________________________________

[~~awed~~ skeptical silence]

UPDATE: If Pandora is a "third generation clairvoyant psychic," does this mean that Martha was a second generation clairvoyant psychic? Sure it does. Unless Mr. Weaver is a psychic. But that's just crazy talk.

Let's face it: there might be more to Martha than we originally thought. Like, for example ... the fact that she could theoretically be some kind of kick-ass sorceress. We'll see.

The WNBA Finally Give Us Something to Cheer about (Other Than Hot Two-Guard on Three-Guard Action)

2008-02-20T13:56:00.003-05:00

Coincidence? I Think Not

2008-02-20T09:22:00.016-05:00

So, Flipside comes onboard with the Indycar Series and 2 weeks later they're about to announce an end to a 13 year old rivalry and have one American open wheel series. And we're to believe this is all a coincidence? The depth and breadth of Flipside's influence cannot be understated at this moment in internet history. Yes, I do realize we're talking about a Robin Miller article. Thank you.

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Welcome To The Club Mr. White

2008-02-20T05:29:00.010-05:00

Heading into last night DJ White was on the outside looking in for me for my all-time, favorite Hoosiers. Not anymore. What this kid has done this season and how he's developed throughout his career has been impressive. As it stands now DJ is firmly entrenched in the 5 spot. Just imagine if say, Andrae Patterson had played with a modicum of the energy DJ emits each night out. Scary. DJ's got his limitations, but for a college PF he's one helluva player. Here's my Top 5 right now:

1. Calbert Cheaney
2. Greg Graham
3. AJ Guyton
4. Damon Bailey
5. DJ White

And considering how Purdue fans have resisted the temptation to bash IU on this site for the last week here are my 5 Purdue players I wish would have gone to IU. Blasphemous, yeah, but still...

1. Glenn Robinson
2. Brian Cardinal
3. Robbie Hummel
4. Carl Landry
5. Chris Kramer

Drop a comment on your Top 5. Just a note, I didn't become an IU fan until 92-93 season, thus the omission of some obvious choices for many of you. I worshiped at the altar that is the Jay Burson basketball experience.

77 - 68

2008-02-19T22:06:00.003-05:00

(Fill in your own story line. We're all too tired and drunk this blessed evening.)

Have Fun Wasting Away the Rest of Your Day

2008-02-19T15:20:00.006-05:00

http://www.travelpod.com/traveler-iq

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% Chance: IU/Purdue Edition

2008-02-19T09:48:00.010-05:00

WHAT'S THE PERCENT CHANCE THAT ...

... lobbing unfounded and crude accusations at Boilermaker folk is the societal foundation of our great state? -- 93% (Well ... that and high cholesterol.)

... ESPN wisens up and leads off the telecast with the vintage "Martha the Cleaning Lady Intro" (or even Purdue's version of Martha -- which I think is a mentally impaired fat guy living in his parents' attic who enjoys playing the tuba)? -- sadly, only 9%

... DJ White doesn't play tonight? -- 0.000000000000000019% (He'll staple-gun his knee ligaments together if need be.)

... Eli Holman just says, "F--k it ... tonight's the night!" and then breaks out his purple 3-piece ninja combat suit he's been saving for a special occasion? -- 89.4% (Let us pray.)

... Eric Gordon was put on this earth for tonight? -- 91% (Whether DJ plays or not, this is Gordon's chance to unamiguously put his stamp on the IU Legacy. Think "Teen Wolf" meets 1964 Bill Bradley. This is going to be f--king sweet.)

... Chris Kramer's blatant and prolonged steroid abuse will finally draw the ire of the Vatican tonight? -- a hopeful, burly, HGH-laced 92%

... America needs John Lawkowski and Chuck Marlow to commentate this game? -- 97%

... Assembly Hall tonight will make last week's Kohl Center look like a well-to-do hospice? -- 99.3387% (At some point, Matt Painter will confront Sampson regarding "this cage you call a gym.")

... Boilermaker Pete is a 10th-grade-educated necropheliac? -- 82%

... Kelvin Sampson walks out on to the floor for the last time carrying an unconscious stripper, a shoulder-mounted grenade launcher, and a leashed-up Vietnamese potbellied pig ... just because? -- a you-might-as-well 50% (John Wooden would.)

... watching Robbie Hummel take the floor against the Hoosiers will be like watching Anakin Skywalker murder a bunch of Jedi children before heading off to lunch with the evil Emperor? -- a just-not-right 99.2% (It'll be gut-wrenching, frankly.)

... at some point, we see a JaJuan, a Jamarcus, an E'Twan and a DeAndre on the floor together at the same time, thus causing a conservative 89-year-old Bedford soybean farmer in attendance to suffer a cerebral infarct? -- 79%

... Kyle Taber sends a shockwave through the white community by dunking on E'Twan Moore like Tom Chambers mega-dunked on Mark Jackson? -- an admittedly slim 0.000074%

... the only bad time to watch that Chambers dunk is when Mitch Richmond ISN'T narrating it -- 100%, obviously (And the "69 Boyz" montage at the end? It's like wrapping the newly signed Magna Carta in fancy linens. It's a small -- probably unneccesary -- touch that just makes a glorious thing that much more awesome.)

... 1987 Steve Alford shows up and physically threatens to saw off Matt Painter's arms if he doesn't give him back his haircut? -- 0.8% (But that's not to say he doesn't want to. Because he does. He just can't navigate the space-time continuum very well.)

... at some point, one of the assistants is going to have step up, do his job, and taser the shit out of a wildly combustible Jordan Crawford? -- 62% (It might not be a "taser," per se. It could very well be a lithium injection.)

... watching Purdue's scrappiness and crisp offensive movement and general smarts will make me say things about the Lumbee Nation as a whole that I don't truly mean? -- a guaranteed 100%

... there's a moment of silence at halftime after it's announced that New Jersey officials have recovered Lawrence Frank's dismembered body from a Meadowlands "Ramada" dumpster? -- a worrisome 61%

... Biff Tannen was a Purdue man through and through? -- a confident 91%

... Dick Vitale is in favor of naming the Assembly Hall court after Bob Knight? -- 99.shut-the-f--k-up-already%

... Chris Kramer has the EXACT look of that guy we all know who washes his car everyother day and knows all the words to "Summer Girls"? -- 17.3-to-the-10th-power %

... we catch at least three shots of Kent Benson -- sitting courtside -- wearing a badass sweater patterned after a multi-colored soundwave? -- a we-salute-you 95%

... this game ultimately ends up atop the IU/Purdue Historical Hierarchy? -- 88%

... it's good to hate again? -- an overdue 100%

Footage of Chris Kramer and His Girlfriend at Their Croatian Basketball Clinic Last Year

2008-02-18T14:03:00.009-05:00

Chris: Alright, baby. You ready!? You ready to show these folks how to take a charge real good?
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Tammi: HELL F--KING YES!!!!!!! LET'S DO THIS!!!!
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Chris: God, I love you.
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Tammi: Just bring the f--king noise, Christina! None of this tip-toeing shit. YOU HEAR ME?! If you can't break my collar-bone, maybe I'm dating the wrong guy. BRING IT!!!
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Chris: You got it, babe.

[Chris and Tammi head-butt, then insert their respective mouthpieces]

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Let's Focus on Our Common Ground

2008-02-18T10:09:00.004-05:00

Listen up, Purdue people. You too, IU people. Let's just stay in our respective corners today. Alright? Tomorrow, we can have at it. We can treat eachother with the utter disdain and contempt that God intended. But not today.

Instead, we need to unite behind our state's most majestic tradition: summer basketbal camps. Because frankly, 97% of Indiana youths attended these makers-of-men at either Purdue or IU. And 100% of those have awesome anecdotes therefrom ... anecdotes we'll carry for the rest of our lives. Like battle scars.

It's high time we made these things public.

I'll get the ball rolling. In the summer of 1990, Jamal Meeks and Todd Leary rewarded our floor's good behavior by letting us watch them launch an assortment of illegal -- presumably Chinese -- fireworks out the window. In all honesty, in the eyes highly impressionable and Jolt-laced 12-year-old boys, this act was paramount to watching them complete the Transcontinental Railroad. We thought they were the two greatest Americans ever. Still do.

I mean, maybe you saw Pat Graham puke in the pool. Maybe Doug Lee hired a celebratory hooker for your team's leading charge-taker. Maybe Kreigh Smith introduced you and your friends to Filipino porn. Maybe Brian Cardinal jammed a Bowie knife into his rib cage in an effort to motivate your team. Who knows.

But let's hear it. Because we've all got at least one.

(Ed. Note: If you opted for something like the Marion College summer basketball camp, for example, nobody wants to hear your story. You're not even like a real American. Definitely not a real Hoosier. You're a disgrace to this state, frankly. Hang your head in shame.)