What’s the most you’ve ever lost on a coin toss?

Call it. You need to call it. I can’t call it for you. It wouldn’t be fair.

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DeShawn Stevenson and Buzz Bissinger: A fight to the death (or something cliché like that)


Two lapses of judgment Tuesday: Author Buzz Bissinger chose to swear a lot on HBO and make an ass of himself and basketballer DeShawn Stevenson chose to don a Michael Vick jersey and make an ass of himself. (Though Stevenson’s not getting positive attention for not supporting Rae Carruth, Carlton Dotson or O.J. Simpson).

So we’re going to run a poll to see who is the bigger, badder idiot. Badder isn’t a word, we’re told, unless it’s spelled with two Ts referring to something like cake “batter” or “batter” up. Bad writing. Bad grammar. Bad bad bad. We no longer are entitled to an opinion.

Contestants
DeShawn Stevenson_________Buzz Bissinger
Profession
basketball player_______journalist

Fashion

fur coat (?), jerseys_______sport coat, slacks
Hates
Dogs, LeBron James______Blogs, Will Leitch (?)
Loves
Soulja Boy_____Horses
Form of Intimidation
Menacing Gestures“______Unintentional spit, loud voice
Grew Up…
In Fresno___Reading the newspaper
Enemies
LeBron, Jay-Z, PETA______Bloggers
Musical taste
Rap, hip hop, R&B____classical, definitely not rock ‘n’ roll — too new age

May the best man win…

Who’s the bigger idiot?
DeShawn Stevenson
Buzz Bissinger
pollcode.com free polls

What else Miguel Tejada isn’t telling you

ESPN’s E:60 (game show?) is making Miguel Tejada out to be a villain. He lied about his age, took steroids and tortured small animals as a child.

The Houston Astros shortstop told the Oakland Athletics when he was signed out of the Dominican Republic in 1993 that he was 17. But he was actually 19, meaning he is now 33, two years older than his listed age in the Astros’ media guide and other baseball records. The shortstop made his admission after being approached Tuesday by ESPN.

Now that that’s out of the closet, Tejada came clean with these gems, too, which will surely lead to more TV exclusives:

-Middle name is actually Walter

-Once played hooky from school

-Sang choir at age 10 12.

-Likes the color pink

-Once ate a family of ants

-Enjoyed it

-Sings Barbra Streisand songs in the shower

-Sucker for Meg Ryan movies.

-Allergic to bees

-Occasionally pats teammates’ asses in the clubhouse

-Considered using cork

-Persuaded by a female companion to dress up as a member of the Black Hole.

-Dyes his hair

Now 33, Tejada is ancient by sports standars. If he suddenly goes on the DL for some bullshit reason, we’ll now know why.

Joe Borowski sidelined with a hanging curve

This seems to keep happening: a team’s closer goes out, gives up what seems like a hundred runs, blows the game, and goes on the DL the next day. It happened with J.J. Putz and now with Joe Borowski.

Borowski’s blowup Monday was maddening, not only because we prefer the collective Boston Red Sox team to all get flat tires and then robbed by a pack of wolves while waiting for AAA, but because he was so close to picking up a save for our fantasy squad, but instead chalked up an ERA around 40.

Is Borowski hurt or just bad? Here’s what the AP article has to say:

On his walk from the bullpen to the mound, Joe Borowski already knew he was in serious trouble. With Cleveland clinging to a one-run lead, the maligned closer was about to face the Boston Red Sox without his best stuff.

Yeah, he only had a one-run lead, his fastball isn’t fast enough, his curveball is flat and he’s probably tipping his pitches. But something else was on his mind.

“It was like I went out there with an unloaded gun,” he said.

He says the same thing in the bedroom. ZING!

No, really though, he does that pretty much every night of his career. His ERA hasn’t been below 3.75 since 2003, he’s highly susceptible to the long ball and he averages less than a strikeout per inning. But yeah, unloaded gun.

Borowski, who has dodged so many ninth-inning jams since joining the Indians, couldn’t escape a trip to the disabled list. He was placed on the 15-day DL on Tuesday, a day after blowing a save and giving up a two-run homer in the ninth inning to Boston’s Manny Ramirez.

Elsewhere, if you get hurt you go to the doctor. If you want to learn, you go to school. If you leave an 83-MPH breaking ball over the plate to a future Hall of Famer, he’s going to hit it 800 feet. If the team doesn’t want you messing up in clutch situations, they put you in the one place where you can’t possibly fuck up: the disabled list.

Borowski, who led the AL with 45 saves last season, has a strained triceps – an injury he first felt in spring training and one the Indians have kept a secret for weeks.

If he has strained triceps, we have Carpal Tunnel from typing this post. He went out, did his job badly, and now the team is telling him to rest because if he pitches again the entire city of Cleveland might burn down.

He had been puzzled by a significant loss in his velocity before being examined by doctors, who recommended he stop pitching for a while.

He is also puzzled when he can’t find new Sopranos episodes. That light next to the gas gauge thoroughly confuses him. And he just discovered that hot air rises.

Naturally, an anti-Borowski blog has popped up which will pretty much make Borowski never want to pitch again. Then again, maybe a strained triceps will require six surgeries and years of rehab. And if his arm is simply tired, well, that might be an obstacle he’ll never be able to overcome.

What Chris Douglas-Roberts’ tattoo says


Once upon a time there was a boy with the initials CDR. It stood for my name, but is now more recognizable with recordable discs. You know who recorded a disc? Jay-Z. Yeah. And he married Beyoncé. Like what the fuck? She’s fucking fine man. I would make sweet love to her all night long. I wonder if she likes basketball players. It’s my mission in life to play in the NBA and make sweet sweet love to Beyoncé. Jay-Z would probably have me whacked, but I don’t care. That ass is worth the risk. I wonder if Mike Myers and her really kissed in that Austin Powers movie. That would be weird because she’s hot and he’s Canadian. She was holding out for me anyway. And I’m tall and I’m going to the NBA so I totally have a chance. And I’m not Canadian. I don’t think so anyway. If the Nets draft me things then might get a little fucked up. I probably shouldn’t let Jay-Z read this essay on my arm. That might cause domestic problems. Detroit would also be cool. That’s my home town. But Memphis would be cool too. I also fucking love nachos.

Coaches with the most distinct appearance

What was Roy Williams thinking Saturday? That tie! That fucking tie!

It looks he’s wearing a kilt around his neck. That tie could be turned into a flannel shirt that Eddie Vedder wore 15 years ago when Pearl Jam was good. If Roy Williams has more clothing with that same pattern, he’d be better off making instructional videos how to hunt deer than coach basketball.

While Williams is often well dressed, his neck-wear Saturday got us thinking about some of the most distinct looks coaches have.

On the following list, all are either basketball or football coaches since baseball coaches wear uniforms and nobody watches hockey.

Why only eight? Because eight is a lucky number in Chinese culture, asshole. (And because we couldn’t think of 10).

As always with lists, we surely left some out, so help us out in the comments. Here’s what we came up with:

8. Red Auerbach, Boston Celtics:


Auerbach’s signature cigar would never be allowed these days, because smoking is bad for you and the NBA isn’t any fun. But Auerbach, a coaching legend, often had his cigar which makes him stand out in any coaching circles. He probably would have been higher on the list, but few who read this blog can remember the 50s and 60s.

7. Mike Tice, Minnesota Vikings:


Those fucking mock turtlenecks! So out of style, yet so in style when worn by the former Vikes coach. As a kid he would’ve gotten beat up. As a huge man, he brought the cool back to the mock turtleneck. Well, no he didn’t. Not at all. The fucking Fonz couldn’t make a mock turtleneck cool.

6. John Chaney, Temple:


Disheveled, pissed off and a little drunk looking summarize the appearance of former Temple legend John Chaney pretty well. His tie was always loosened, his sleeves rolled up and he always seemed ready for that post-game Scotch.

5. Don Nelson, Golden State Warriors:


It’s a good look for that mid-20s something trying to look hip on a night out: the sport coat with a t-shirt underneath. Hey, it looks classy…until you have a gut. Nellie’s beer belly is on full display when his coat is unbuttoned showing off his body-hugging t-shirt. But for a guy who drinks a lot and coaches our hometown Warriors, he can wear whatever he likes.

4. Al Groh, Virginia:


The crew-neck sweatshirt was made for him…and nobody else.

3. Bob Knight, Indiana/Texas Tech:


The sweaters. Boy does he like sweaters. Maybe he fondles his sweaters.

2. John Thompson, Georgetown:


Towels are not for bathing or for drying the dishes, dammit! Thompson was perhaps the best walking advertisement the towel industry will ever have. (If such a thing as the “towel industry” exists). We might start slinging a towel over our shoulder when we blog.

1. Bill Belichick, New England Patriots:


The hooded-sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off and hood up. You could recognize him from a distance, making him the coach with the most distinct style, even though that style makes him look better suited to stand in an unemployment line or be the leader of the Dark Side than coach a football team.

Pettitte: ‘I’m sorry’


I’m sorry I took steroids.

I’m sorry I ate the last cookie.

I’m sorry I told you the tooth fairy isn’t real.

I’m sorry I left the toilet seat up.

I’m sorry I inhaled in high school.

I’m sorry I looked at Jeter in the shower.

I’m sorry I used sage instead of saffron in the rice.

I’m sorry I charged that hotel porn to A-Rod’s room.

I’m sorry Clemens and I got loaded and set some beavers loose in the furniture store.

I’m sorry I lost those five playoff games.

I’m sorry I went to the National League.

I’m sorry about the beef recall.

I’m sorry I used to stay up late at night when I was 12 and try to make out the boobs in between the squiggly lines.

I’m sorry I called our Boy Scout leader a homo.

I’m sorry I dragged you to see Death Becomes Her.

I’m sorry I ate the chili from 7-Eleven.

I’m sorry I got caught.