Bleacher Report - Articles by Brian Gaylord

Sports Humanitarians: We Are Each Other’s Angels

Brian Gaylord — Sun, 29 Mar 2009 02:23:37 -0400

In memory of my father, James M. Gaylord (May 20, 1925-March 10, 2009), a decorated World War II foot soldier, a D-Day Plus 6 man who stormed the beaches of Normandy, a man who nearly froze his feet off at the Battle of the Bulge. Dad, ever since I can remember I could outrun you but in the ways that mattered I could never keep up. There are sports figures who do good work in the world away from sports. Some are famous, some are not. Some are highly visible with their contributions and use their celebrity to further a charitable cause. Others seek to fly under the radar on angel wings. Reggie Jackson is one who for many years reportedly flew under the radar with his charitable efforts. In 1997, he launched a more visible effort with his Mr. October Foundation for Kids. These athletes remind us that sports are a backdrop for a bigger life story. They provide a perspective with their deeds that we sports fans sometimes lack. And they can surprise us: A villain on the field, court, etc. may be a generous, helpful soul off it. There are many more sports figures worthy of inclusion in this tribute slideshow, but I’ve kept it to a low roar of my own cheering. One athlete here -- Josh Hamilton -- inspires with his story of redemption. There’s a common thread that runs through all the other sports figures I’ve chosen in that they inspire us and have raised money and attention for people in need. A heartfelt “thank you” goes out to singer-songwriter Chuck Brodsky, who’s song “We Are Each Other’s Angels” is the inspiration for this slideshow. If there’s a better anthem for people helping people, I don’t know it. Chuck graciously allowed the use of his song for this slideshow and even posted a full-length, live version of it for that purpose. His lyrics accompany each slide here. A big sports fan -- especially of Philadelphia teams -- 13 of Chuck’s recorded songs are in the Baseball Hall of Fame. To enhance this slideshow, open a second screen -- speakers on -- and go here: http://www.chuckbrodsky.com/angels.html. Click on the song, then go back to the slideshow on Bleacher Report, right to “Begin Slideshow.”

Begin Slideshow

Your Cheatin' Start: Rosie Ruiz's Marathon Missteps

Brian Gaylord — Sun, 08 Feb 2009 02:19:48 -0500

Much was made of China’s use of prepubescent girl gymnasts at the 2008 Summer Olympic Games in Beijing.

I say better that—and the chance for your country’s adulation—than some other form of forced labor, such as factory work. No cheering crowds there.

But China’s Olympic fraud was amateur hour.

Rosie Ruiz's “victory” in the 1980 Boston Marathon leaves the Chinese gymnasts in the dust.

We loathe the petty thief, the second-story man, the stick-up guy who knocks off a 7-Eleven. But pull off the Great Brinks Robbery, and we treat you with a curious reverence reserved for blue-collar crooks at the height of their game.

Make no mistake: In sports’ theater-in-the-round, Ruiz’s hijacking of the world's oldest and most famous marathon is somewhere on a par with the Great Brinks Robbery.

Eleven robbers knocked off the Brinks Building in Boston in 1950 to the tune of nearly $3 million in what routinely is referred to as the “crime of the century” for the 20th century.

Fast forward 30 years to 1980, and unknown runner Ruiz slips into the Boston Marathon race for the final few hundred yards, the first woman to cross the finish line.

In a 2006 piece, Orlando Sentinel columnist Dave Darling wrote that accounts of others suggest Ruiz wanted to have a good showing but wasn’t trying to win the race. She apparently made a miscalculation and unwittingly entered the race ahead of the other nearly 450 women runners.

Ruiz is thought to have dropped out of the race and boarded the subway, getting off close to the finish line. Complaints about public transit notwithstanding, she broke the Boston Marathon record for women by three minutes.

A New Yorker, Ruiz had earned her qualifying time for the Boston Marathon earlier in the New York City Marathon. Apparently she rode the subway to the finish line in that race, too.

Eight days after the 1980 Boston Marathon, Ruiz was stripped of her title, and it was awarded to Jackie Gareau. Ruiz eventually was disqualified from the New York City Marathon.

Despite eyewitness accounts, photographic and film evidence, and other evidence against Ruiz, she never publicly has admitted to cheating in the Boston Marathon.

Ruiz barely perspired at the Boston Marathon’s finish line on that 70-degree day.

On the other hand, legend has it that Pheidippides—in whose memory marathons are named—expired after running some 26 miles from Marathon to Athens to bring word of the Greek army's victory over Persia in the Battle of Marathon.

Sure Ruiz cheated, but she struck a blow for all of us who know that running 26.2 miles is OK cumulatively, over a lifetime, but not all at once.

Wondering Where the (Detroit) Lions Are

Brian Gaylord — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 20:15:01 -0500

I take no pleasure in the Detroit Lions 0-16 season, no pleasure in their staking a claim to NFL infamousy. Didn’t want to see it happen, even. But singer-songwriter Bruce Cockburn’s 1979 song “Wondering Where The Lions Are,” seems as fitting a musing today as it would have been then as relates to the Detroit Lions. Nothing suggests Cockburn (pronounced "co-burn") intended any connection to the Detroit Lions in his song, but curiously, there are other “signs.” Cockburn was all over the Lions and maybe even foresaw this 0-16 debacle. His songs “Night Train” and “Pacing The Cage” -- both off his 1996 album “The Charity Of Night” -- perhaps really were about the late Lions Hall of Famer Dick “Night Train” Lane and Lions fans, respectively. It’s a theory. In “Wondering Where The Lions Are,” Cockburn uses the word “petroglyphs,” which can refer to carving in stone like, say, an 0-16 record. This slideshow is with apologies to Daniel Muth and J. Conrad Guest (and mostly Bruce Cockburn), among others. Legit Lions fans Muth and Guest wrote recent, stirring pieces about the Lions on Bleacher Report. In fact, it was a comment Guest made about the Lions’ storied history that got me “wondering where the Lions are.” Sorry for piling on, guys. I accept the 15-yard penalty. To enhance this slideshow, open a second screen -- speakers on -- and go here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_NeFrQAF1Q. Click on the song and then go back to the slideshow on Bleacher Report, right to “Start Slideshow.”

Begin Slideshow

Lane Kiffin Sings ‘I Shall Be Released’

Brian Gaylord — Thu, 25 Dec 2008 10:53:56 -0500

This year saw Oakland Raiders owner Al Davis fire head coach Lane Kiffin four games into the season, Kiffin’s second with the organization. Davis fired Kiffin for cause; Kiffin and many Raiders/NFL fans feel that Davis is the cause of the Raiders problems.

Kiffin left with a 5-15 record and has since been named head coach of the Tennessee Vols. His father Monte Kiffin -- well-respected defensive coordinator for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers -- will join him at Tennessee.

Kiffin’s anticipated firing from the Raiders led to some unique moments, most notably Sebastian Janikowski’s 76-yard field goal attempt. Which leads to Bob Dylan’s “I Shall Be Released.” In a number of ways, Kiffin sang the song that accompanies this slide show.

To enhance this production, open another screen and go here: http://www.bobdylan.com/#/songs/i-shall-be-released. To the left of the lyrics, click on “Listen” by the top photo of Dylan. Then go back to the Bleacher Report screen -- with speakers on -- to view this slideshow with Dylan’s voice and the written lyrics of “I Shall Be Released” accompanying the slides.

Start of slideshow (and music):

They say ev'ry man must need protection,

They say ev'ry man must fall.

Begin Slideshow

Life On Mars: The Sports Connection

Brian Gaylord — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 10:06:30 -0400

Questions abound about exactly what has happened to Detective Sam Tyler on the new U.S. television series “Life On Mars,” an adaptation of the British series by the same name.

The premise of the show is that a present-day car accident sends Detective Tyler back 35 years to 1973. Is he really a time traveler or is he dreaming? Is he living in two parallel universes at once? And why 1973? If the show’s creators were intent on that time period, why not 1972 or 1974?

More importantly, what’s Detective Tyler’s mission? What’s so important that he has to travel back 35 years, albeit unwittingly? What truth is he meant to uncover and, armed with that knowledge, how might he help change the course of history?

Thus far in the series Detective Tyler has yet to figure out his predicament.

The year 1973 is when the United States pulled the last of its troops out of Vietnam. It’s also the year of the Watergate hearings. Either of those events would be good guesses as to the significance of 1973, but not the correct answer. If you guessed that the show targeted 1973 because that’s the last time the Knickerbockers won an NBA championship, you’re at least dialed in to the sports connection.

Care to take another swing at it?

I hate to be a spoilsport and give away the secret behind “Life On Mars,” but 1973 is when the American League adopted the position of designated hitter. The show is set in New York City and once Detective Tyler gets a bead on his flashbacks he’ll march right into Major League Baseball’s headquarters there, which may return him to 2008.

What I haven’t figured out is whether Detective Tyler has returned to 1973 to block implementation of the designated hitter rule or to force the National League to adopt the position. But like many of us, clearly Detective Tyler is bothered on some level by MLB’s lack of uniformity on this rule, especially since interleague play—introduced in 1997—appears to be here to stay. After previous intermittent use, the designated hitter has been part of every World Series since 1986.

What I also haven’t figured out is why it takes a detective to right this wrong. Maybe the Watergate scandal was even more widespread than I knew.

In 1973 the song “Dueling Banjos” made it on to the Billboard charts. The synchronicity between “Dueling Banjos,” banjo hitters, and designated hitters is not to be denied, though in truth most major-league pitchers are less than banjo hitters.

I also could mention that the movie “Bang The Drum Slowly” was released in 1973 and that the heart-breaking story ostensibly about a baseball player suffering from an incurable disease really was a forward-looking tale about the slow demise of baseball…but then I’d be reaching.

Chicago Cubs Fans: Be Careful What You Wish for

Brian Gaylord — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 07:18:08 -0400

He whispered, "Don't cry, we'll meet by and by near the Heavenly Hall of Fame
He said I've got seasons tickets to watch the Angels now,
So that's just what I'm going to do
He said well you the living, you're stuck here with the Cubs,
So it's me that feels sorry for you!

—"A Dying Cubs Fan's Last Request" by the late Steve Goodman

In what is perhaps the greatest sports song ever written—"A Dying Cubs Fan's Last Request"—the late Steve Goodman was wise beyond his Cubs fan years.

He knew the far-reaching connections and the long suffering of Cubs fans. He sang of raising up “a young boy's hopes” and crushing them “year after year after year...after year, after year, after year, after year, after year.”

Many young Cubs fans have grown up to be old Cubs fans, seemingly with nothing to show for it but a badge of honor for loyally supporting an organization that hasn’t brought them a championship.

But Cubs fans, as a Red Sox fan, I’ve seen what lies just over the other side of the hill, just beyond your sight: loss of life for some of the longest of the long sufferers.

When the Red Sox completed their sweep of the St. Louis Cardinals on Oct. 27, 2004 to win their first World Series in 86 years, the victory was the culmination of so many false hopes borne by so many for so long. It was the oldest of the long sufferers for whom it held the greatest impact.

Case in point: Walter "Salty" Brine, 86, a Rhode Island icon and veteran TV and radio broadcaster, died Nov. 2, 2004 at his Rhode Island home, less than a week after the Red Sox won the World Series.

Brine was born just outside Boston in 1918—the year the Red Sox had last won the World Series.

I don’t know if Salty suffered a heart attack, but his wife was quoted after his passing as saying that he was thrilled when the Red Sox won the World Series.

I say Salty just let go, said goodbye to the world, and made off for those Fenway Park bleachers in Heaven (I know, I know, the Fenway bleachers are Heaven.)

The impossible Red Sox won the World Series and there was nothing left to live for.

I’m sure if you checked the obituary listings around New England—especially Massachusetts—in the days following the 2004 World Series, you’d find that hordes of old-time Red Sox fans cashed it in.

So you younger Cubs fans need to ask yourselves which you'd prefer to have: your Cubs win a World Series or more years with your favorite elders?

I see. Well, sorry old-timers, but you—more than anyone—know the score.

Football Is The New Baseball

Brian Gaylord — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 21:45:06 -0400

There hasn't been this much taunting, flaunting and haunting since the 2007-2008 NFL season ended. And that’s just from the fans.

Okay, see “Favre” for haunting.

It used to be that baseball never really went away, like an incessant Little League chant that rings in your ears long after the last batter has whiffed. It used to be that once baseball season ended, fans clamored for more Major League chatter.

No more. Football talk has taken up residence as the off-season American pastime of choice.

It already held that position before the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field was turned into a cryogenics experiment: Freeze Favre until a future Packers management wants his services.

Whither the Hot Stove League? That dying flame now licks the NFL's boots.

Drone on about baseball in the off-season, and 260 pounds of fullback will trample you where you sit.

If you're Tyree-d of hearing about "The Catch II," your mood isn't likely to improve any time soon.

The scheming and off-season play calling by today’s NFL fan is at a torrid pace. And we haven’t even reached training camp. Oh, the long hours yet to come of breaking down game film.

We’re a nation of Monday morning quarterbacks … even in July.

Even LaDainian Tomlinson wants in on the chatter, openly campaigning to be everyone’s No. 1 Fantasy Football pick. It's in the sport.

Open Mic: No Pain, No Sport

Brian Gaylord — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 12:09:39 -0400

Death, dismemberment, real pain—this is the stuff of sports.

Drill a chess piece off your opponent’s head and that might smart a little, but no real pain, so not a sport.

A javelin to the body hurts, therefore throwing a javelin is a sport. Lawn darts, not so much.

Don’t come crying to me with a scraped knee. If it can be handled with a little Bacitracin ointment and a Band-Aid, it’s not a sports injury.

I know that Tiger Woods has been making his way around golf courses on a bad wheel, but people rarely get hit point-blank by a golf ball, so golf is not a sport.

Soccer has real pain, so it is a sport. But points are deducted for faked injuries, so soccer often veers dangerously close to the non-sports category.

The late Jack Dempsey refereed boxing long after his own boxing career was over. When bringing the combatants to the center of the ring before the opening bell, he reportedly would say, “Now let’s have a good fight,” with emphasis on the word “fight.” And he meant it.

Fighting = pain = sport.

Let’s easily put a check mark in the “sports” category next to football (American), ice hockey, baseball, basketball and all motorized racing events. Even cycling gets a check mark.

Recreational activities such as pool, darts, ping-pong and shuffleboard are not sports. That such activity may raise a blister does not a sport make (See my comment above about Bacitracin ointment and a Band-Aid.)

Swimming is a sport, if only by default. What with global warming melting the ice caps, we'll all be swimming 24-7 soon, and I'd hate to think of a world without sport.

Open Mic: Soccer Is Subtlety and Nuance, and That’s Not American

Brian Gaylord — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 11:27:06 -0400

Unless skilled in playing soccer, the fastest sprinter in the world can't do what Freddy Adu can do on a soccer field.

It’s what a player can do with a soccer ball that makes the difference between a world-class player and someone who ties on soccer cleats and simply moves the ball forward.

Don’t misunderstand: Speed kills in most sports and is an asset in soccer. But it isn’t enough to make someone a great soccer player. If flat-out sprinting speed mattered so much, we’d have never heard the name David Beckham. Quickness in small spaces is more important in soccer.

Upper-body strength is of little consequence to soccer players. Vertical jumping ability is an advantage in competing for head balls but is not a deal maker.

Long-jumping ability is of no consequence to soccer, though a well-placed Bob Beamon-esque leap now and then would be welcome if just to break up the monotony.

The reason American teams generally don’t fare too well in international soccer competition isn’t a question of athleticism, it’s one of skill level borne of—in most cases—lifelong dedication so that dribbling, passing and shooting a soccer ball is as second-nature as walking.

Americans don’t grow up dribbling a soccer ball or a soccer ball substitute to school. We don’t grow up juggling a ball around the house.

Though soccer at youth levels has been coming on in the States increasingly for the past 40 years, kids here are encouraged to rely on their athleticism above all else. Soccer requires nuance and subtlety and we’re a nation of straight-liners seeking the fastest way from Point A to Point B.

Americans don’t improve dramatically at soccer because there’s disconnect between the dynamics of soccer and our way of thinking. For all the years of witnessing great international players and teams on television and in person, soccer in America by and large still is a kick-and-run game.

But isn’t that what America is, a kick-and-run nation at its core?

America is a land of barrage. Operation Cacophony. We may not always outsmart or out reason our opponents. But surely we can overwhelm.

Throw a pithy remark at America and we’ll blanket you with f-bombs in return. So don’t give us this sport “football” that mostly is frustration and low scoring. You can pitch the “pitch.”

Kick a soccer ball our way and we’ll more likely than not kick it back at you. And then we’ll chase it.

Confessions of a Wayward Writer

Brian Gaylord — Tue, 06 May 2008 11:27:09 -0400

I know I should have confessed sooner but I'm here to confess that I've made mistakes in my life for which I'm sorry. I feel it's important to come clean on this issue.

Though by far not my worst mistake, I once misused the word “compliment" when I meant to use the word “complement."

In my wilder youth I was reckless with punctuation and ran on with the long, crowded sentence. In an already uptight world I've created tense problems.

I've been too flowery at times and there was a time when I thought adjectives were my best friend. I was younger then and more foolish. I've since learned to pick my friends more carefully. I ask for your forgiveness.

I've used coffee and chocolate while writing but I've never used semantics to explain away sexual relations with underage country girl singers. That I've never had sexual relations with underage country girl singers is beside the point. It’s important to confess.

I've apologized to my wife and past editors for my mistakes, and having offered this apology to the public, I ask that you leave my wife and me alone and respect our privacy.

MLB Prison Break: Starring Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds

Brian Gaylord — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 10:50:21 -0500

“Perjury”: In this series' pilot episode, Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds share a prison cell. Clemens tries to convince Bonds that he can break them out of Fox River State Penitentiary.

Clemens: Barry, what are you in for?

Bonds: What do you mean, what am I in for. Same reason you’re here.

Clemens: To pitch for the prison softball team?

Bonds: I’m in here for perjury, same as you. There is no prison softball team.

Clemens (adamant): I never used steroids.

Bonds: Yeah, neither did I. You ever hear from Pettitte?

Clemens: You mean FBI Special Agent Mahone? No.

The two men fall silent. Clemens paces the cell until he comes upon a spot on the floor that he toes feverishly, as though it’s a pitching rubber.

Bonds: What are you doing? This isn’t a baseball diamond.

Clemens: I’m thinking maybe you and I could be like that traveling softball show, the King and His Court. I’ll pitch and you play the outfield. All we need is a catcher and first baseman. Is Palmeiro in here?

Bonds: No, the House Government Reform Committee never sought perjury charges against him. That goes back a few years before we were thrown in here. Don’t you read the newspapers?

Clemens: Only write-ups of the games I’ve won. That’s a lot of reading.

Bonds: Yeah, whatever. The only traveling I want to do is to escape from here.

Clemens: I have a plan to break us out. I have the blueprint of the entire prison grounds tattooed on my body. (He proceeds to tear off his shirt to reveal an elaborate tattoo maze covering his torso, front and back.)

Bonds (looking puzzled, points to Clemens’ stomach): Is that a barbecue?

Clemens (looking down at his stomach, furious): No! No! I don’t believe it! This was supposed to be the prison grounds!

Bonds (looking disgusted): What is it?

Clemens: It’s the blueprint of Canseco’s Florida house. (He picks up a chair and fires it against the far wall of the cell, splintering it into pieces.)

Bonds rolls over in his bed and in a murmur counts his home runs jumping the wall in an effort to fall asleep. Clemens takes up pacing the cell again and finally stands before a small mirror, contorting his body in an effort to read the tattoo on his back.

The Man in the Arena vs. sports criticism

Brian Gaylord — Sun, 17 Feb 2008 09:52:50 -0500

Teddy Roosevelt gave a speech titled “The Man in the Arena” at the Sorbonne in Paris, France, on April 23, 1910. A famous passage from the speech reads as follows:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”

When that speech was delivered nearly 100 years ago, there wasn’t much by way of sports criticism occurring in the world. Heck, by comparison with today, there wasn’t much by way of sports occurring in the world. There certainly did not exist the numerous mass communications outlets that we enjoy today. ESPN wouldn’t launch for another 69 years.

Today, Roosevelt’s words still pack a punch. They may have been a bit self-serving: Having been a high-profile politician, Roosevelt certainly had his detractors. As one scribe wrote, while Roosevelt was on a 10-month safari in Africa his critics at home actively rooted for the lions.

Pro athletes are both admired and envied. For every Bobby Orr for whom adulation will follow him for all of his days, there are countless others not nearly so revered. Perhaps there is no defeat as great as the fall from grace in the court of public opinion. Ask Marion Jones, Roger Clemens, Pete Rose...Bill Buckner.

Roosevelt’s powerful words are but a couple of keystrokes away from staring me in the face. Maybe one day I’ll print them out, frame them and give them a home in my writing space.

Do I criticize athletes? Uh, yeah. But often more for their character—or lack of it—than for their performance.

Certainly there’s a place for sports criticism. But I’m reminded of a cautionary tale of sorts. A longtime friend of ex-Patriots quarterback Tony Eason told me a couple of years ago that Eason lives a rather reclusive, lonely life out West these days. The picture he painted of Eason was sad.

Many of Bleacher Report’s readers doubtless recall Eason’s poor performance in Super Bowl XX, when a dominant Bears team ground Eason and the Pats into the turf, 46-10. Though Eason led the Pats to an AFC divisional playoff game the following year -- a loss to the John Elway-led Broncos—he generally was held in low regard by Boston fans, who felt that he was soft.

My advice to aspiring sportswriters: Be able to look at yourself in the mirror and others in the eye. Don’t lose your humanity along the way.

Roger Clemens: Sports Hero Slip Slidin’ Away

Brian Gaylord — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 15:21:17 -0500

Roger Clemens has always been a public relations disaster waiting to happen.

Butchering the English language—he “misremembers” words the way Andy Pettitte “misremembers” conversations—has been the least of his shortcomings.

In his days with the Red Sox, one of his most notable PR faux pas was the time he whined about the players having to carry their luggage through airports.

So it should come as no surprise to longtime followers of Big Hoss that he unwisely chose to tape and then play for all the world that fateful 17-minute phone conversation with Brian McNamee.

Are Clemens attorneys so starstruck that they didn’t see it for the misstep that it was?

McNamee’s taped virtual admission revealed that he felt bad about ratting out Clemens, but did so because he feared prison time if he lied. What part of that confession did they not think twice about sharing?

That exchange is open to interpretation, but Clemens will rue the day he chose to play that tape for the media and set in motion McNamee’s follow-up actions.

I’ve been following Big Hoss’ career since his days coming up through the Red Sox organization and playing Triple-A ball in Pawtucket, RI. That was a gentler, easier time for Clemens. When his potential blossomed, stardom beckoned, and McCoy Stadium couldn’t hold him for long.

As Bill Murray said in the movie, Groundhog Day, "Why can’t I have that day back?"

I’ve always disliked the baseball expression, “That’s some serious cheese,” and variations of it. But that was some serious cheese that Clemens and McNamee faced on Capitol Hill on Wednesday.

Super Bowl XLII: The Non-Fan's Primer

Brian Gaylord — Tue, 22 Jan 2008 14:36:39 -0500

I love football and would look forward to the upcoming Super Bowl even if my New York Giants weren’t playing in it.

However, for those of you who feel a bit differently about Super Sunday, here are some suggestions about what to do before and during the game:

Twenty-four hours before game time, spring a pair of Super Bowl tickets on your mate. In the ensuing panic, you’ll find the two of you stuck in traffic one hour from the University of Phoenix Stadium. You’ll have gotten out of the house and the traffic jam will remind you of the Blizzard of ’78 minus the snow.

Create a crisis with your mate that demands immediate attention. A line like, “If you love me, you’ll turn off that stupid Super Bowl,” should be a winner.

Of course, this may backfire if (a) he/she doesn’t love you or (b) you’ve been with the same partner for 42 years or more and have used this tactic for the past 41 Super Bowls.

In that case, you may want to try this suggestion:

Bone up on football statistics and trivia like you have never studied for anything before in your life. This will require exhaustive research, but the revenge can be sweet.

Start your research with Jim Thorpe and move forward. In the days preceding the game, spew out this wad of information relentlessly at your mate. Sprinkle your conversation with a healthy dose of past Patriots names such as Babe Parilli, Jim Nance and Steve Grogan, and Giants legends like Y.A. Tittle, Roosevelt Brown and Sam Huff.

By game day, your mate will feel as though the entire Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio, has trampled through the living room and may be disenchanted with watching the game.

NFL Pro Bowlers Would Rather Play Golf

Brian Gaylord — Sat, 19 Jan 2008 03:52:41 -0500

Tony Romo apparently has no interest in laying low as evidenced by his petitioning to play in the AT&T Pebble Beach National Pro-Am on Feb. 4-10. Unlike at Texas Stadium, at Pebble he can take a mulligan.

If Jessica Simpson were to accompany Romo to the AT&T, this would be a pretty easy gig for both of them. The golf fans and celeb watchers there are pretty welcoming. Plus, the gallery will be filled with 49ers fans, and they’re laying low these days.

Romo, LaDainian Tomlinson and Tom Brady all are candidates to play in the AT&T and all three were named to the Pro Bowl. The Pro Bowl game will be held in Honolulu on Feb. 10, a conflict for those playing golf that weekend. Apparently they’re as disinterested in playing in the Pro Bowl as many fans are in watching it. Bill Belichick also is a candidate to play at AT&T; he and Brady have played in the tournament before. There’s no conflict for Belichick since Tony Dungy is the AFC’s head coach for the Pro Bowl.

The Billikens really know how to mess with RPI rankings, upsetting No. 23-ranked University of Rhode Island 68-61 on Thursday. This is a damaging loss for the Runnin’ Rams, or Moseyin’ Rams in that one. Saint Louis, I liked you better when you were scoring 20 points against George Washington.

R.I.P., St. Louis Rams owner Georgia Frontiere. She supported the “Pre-’59ers,” the 1,000-plus NFL players who left the playing field before 1959 and didn't qualify for the league’s pension plan. For that she deserves major kudos.

NFL Playoffs: From the Bleacher Seats

Brian Gaylord — Tue, 15 Jan 2008 04:23:56 -0500

The Jacksonville Jaguars didn’t play to win against the Patriots—they played to not get embarrassed. They might want to play with the phrase “defensive adjustments” in the off-season. Jags, if you don’t like what I’m saying don’t get all defensive now.

Jerry Jones looked stunned, Romo looked crestfallen and T.O. cried. You guys really know how to warm the hearts of Giants fans.

Do you get the feeling Tony Romo thought he could just show up at Texas Stadium with his cap on backwards and beat the Giants? Romo had an extra week off, but in the week prior to the game, who do you guess put in more effort preparing for the battle—Tony Romo or Eli Manning? Romo’s got the job, the money, the Pro Bowl status and the girlfriend but he lost a lot of field cred Sunday.

T.O.’s teary-eyed defense of Romo’s trip to Cabo with Jessica Simpson loses some of its admirability when you realize that T.O. paid for the plane tickets.

You can have your end-zone dances after touchdowns. I’ll take Brandon Jacobs drilling the play clock with the football at Texas Stadium.

Philip Rivers’ verbal exchanges with Colts fans at the RCA Dome was a continuation of the classless behavior he exhibited in taunting Jay Cutler a few weeks earlier. It all seemed to start with Tomlinson shunning Rivers late in the season and Rivers has been looking for a dog to kick ever since. Actually, it probably started at birth or at least by Pop Warner.

I’d like to see Jeremy Shockey in a Raiders uniform, and I’m a Giants fan.

Mike Martz never met a fourth down and improbable he didn’t like. Good luck, 49ers.

Playing away from their huge home-field advantage, the Seahawks were exposed by the Packers as distant pretenders to the throne.

Dr. Goodellove, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the NFL

Brian Gaylord — Thu, 10 Jan 2008 12:36:23 -0500

I can see how the New York Giants could squeak by Dallas by a point or three this weekend.

I can also see Roger Goodell sitting in the press box with a high-powered rifle aimed at the referee, because he wants a Patriots-Cowboys Super Bowl.

What Roger wants, Roger gets.

The Pats nearly blew it when Mangenius dropped a dime on them in Week 1. Roger had to appear pissed at the Pats and levied heavy fines.

But he didn’t bar the Pats from the playoffs, and he didn’t launch a fuller investigation. Instead he had the evidence destroyed and allowed the Pats—and the 2007 NFL season—to move forward.

Roger could have imposed heavier sanctions, such as barring Pats' players from engaging in endorsements and self-promotion off the field. Ads for the Randy Moss School of Pushing Off would have disappeared, for instance.

There are other examples of Roger’s heavy hand. Forget the grassy knoll in 1963—no, I’m not talking about the 1963 NFL Championship game at Wrigley Field between the Bears and Giants, played in 10-degree weather.

The current-day grassy knoll was that abomination of a “football” field at Wembley Stadium that Roger forced the Giants to play a regular-season game on this year. The plan was for Giants players to go down in droves on the pitch, with injuries that would ensure the Cowboys a clear path to winning the NFC East and ultimately to advancing to the Super Bowl.

Turns out that the Cowboys didn’t need the help to win the NFC East but Roger wasn’t taking any chances.

I suspect Roger also has a hand in Bill Belichick being drugged for every press conference this season. He sounds as monotone as your ninth-grade math teacher—heck, your any-grade math teacher.

Contrary to popular belief, Belichick shares all sorts of strategy and “inside football” infomation at his press conferences. But he waits until everyone—including the camera operators—has dozed off so that the viewing public never sees it. We don't get to read about it because print reporters also are in dreamland by the time Belichick shows his hand.

It’s one of his guilty pleasures. That, and beating the snot out of opposing teams.

If somehow Roger doesn’t end up with the Super Bowl matchup he desires this year, it will only hasten his timetable for approving NFL franchises in far-flung places such as Morocco and Tibet.

Perhaps Roger will even pull franchises from certain cities to relocate teams that let him down.

The Chechnya Cowboys? One can only hope.

Odds and Ends From Bleacher Seat

Brian Gaylord — Mon, 07 Jan 2008 10:29:41 -0500

That sucking sound you’re hearing is the sound of Ronde Barber being...well, it's just the sound of Ronde Barber.

Though Eli Manning's payback wasn't as pronounced as Tom Brady’s to Anthony Smith, he burned Barber with several passes to both Toomer and Burress. All would be forgiven were it not for Barber weaseling on his comments about the Giants by wanting to differentiate between Ronde the commentator and Ronde the player.

Ronde, if you want to gear up for your post-football life instead of focusing all your energy as a player on the playoff game at hand, Tiki provided you with a great example.

After his 60 minutes appearance, Roger Clemens can't go Marion Jones now without looking completely foolish. He is stuck with standing by his story (which may be true) or crashing harder than the guy who Jackassed the half-pipe with his 40-foot fall sans skateboard.

Wake me when the controversy over BCS rankings are over. Better yet, just bury me.

Watching Terry, Jimmy, Howie, Dan, Boomer, Shannon, and company yuck it up over lame stuff reminds me why I didn't play football.

The Seahawks burned Sean Taylor this weekend. According to the Skins, Taylor was there with them. The Seahawks burned the Skins. Ergo...

Speaking of the Seahawks (which I try not to very often), they and the Broncos have virtually no excuse for not making the playoffs every year with the huge home-field advantage they both enjoy. Opposing teams should be spotted a touchdown just for having to play under the conditions of deafening noise in Seattle and high altitude in Denver.

Memo to TV networks: Get your reporters off team benches and sidelines seeking comments from coaches and players while the action is happening. Fans do not need to see this invasive interference of the sporting events they're watching. Take the microphones intended for NBA coaches and shove them.

Kudos to Coors for its smart commercials featuring footage of Parcells, Green, etc., and to the The Football Network for its entertaining commercials set at Joe’s Diner.

Other than the idea of rules being broken and being a bad influence on kids, I just can't get too worked up over paid professional athletes choosing to put performance enhancing substances in their bodies. For purists concerned with records, where do we draw the line?

Baseballs have been juiced, golf balls and clubs have undergone technological changes, and these days the head of a tennis racket is as big as all outdoors, to name just a few examples. All-time-best arguments stretch over decades of athletes and many technological and rules changes that mostly render the arguments futile.

I am loyal, really I am, but after decades of being less than a die-hard fan toward the New England Patriots, I have turned on them this year. I like to think that it is they who have gone over to the dark side, not me. The Pats gained no advantage this year from any illicit videotaping and I suspect they got little if any advantage from any illicit videotaping they may have done in the past. But any beatdowns on teams this year is not proof that they didn't gain a competitive advantage in the past and the Pats seem to think that it is proof.

This season, any close game the Pats win, Belichick and Brady claim the team “did not play their best game.” This is disingenuous to those few teams that played them close. I suspect the Patriots will run the table but it's going to be oddly delicious if they do not.