Singletary’s Dingleberries

Apparently, fellow cat-lover Mike Singletary dropped his pants at half-time to dramatize a point to his team en route to their loss to the lowly Seattle Seahawks last Sunday. I don’t really have anything to say about this except that I think it’s kind of funny and that it’s interesting to see the kinds of things that people who have some new authority will do in order to put their stamp on a team. It also makes me think about how head coaches are primarily motivators and public figures. The article is here.

Jerry Manuel: Keepin’ It Gangsta

As already mentioned on this blog, Jerry Manuel (Mets’ manager) likes to keep it gangsta. Case in point, Mets’ new 3rd base coach:

Mike Nolan: Fashionostalgianista

So Mike Nolan got fired and now we don’t have any more NFL coaches (to my knowledge) who don’t wear a Reebok sweatsuit. I liked the suits and sort of had a thing for the 49ers because of Nolan’s status as a fashionostalgianista.

On the upside, we are now likely to be treated to the Mike Singletary era. A fellow cat lover, super bowl shuffler, and creepy glasses wearer, Singletary will bring some cheese to the decidedly lactose-deprived corps in the bay area.

The Phillies Are In The World Series

We don’t talk about actual sports competition a whole lot around here. We’re not journalists, nor do we pretend to be. And we don’t all share the same team allegiances. But I thought I’d at least mention the first team to make its league’s championship series since we started this little blog.

Rot in hell, Phillies.

Or, alternately, bring back these guys:

The Dwight Gooden Poster’s Sixth Official Poll Result

Which golfer would make the best porn star? The answer is in:

Is it just me, or is this a stupid article?

So I returned home this evening to read Eric Neel’s article about the latest Angels loss to the Red Sox. Too bad for the Angels. They’re a likeable team. But how about that article, eh? It really captures the tragedies of sports:

“Down 4-1 with two outs and the bases loaded in the first inning, right fielder Juan Rivera grounded out to shortstop. Down 5-2 with two outs and runners on first and third in the fourth inning, left fielder Garret Anderson struck out swinging. Down 5-3 in the fifth inning with two outs and runners on first and third, pinch-hitter Kendry Morales popped up to third. Down 5-4 with two outs and the bases loaded in the seventh inning, shortstop Erick Aybar struck out swinging.”

So, ok, they didn’t do so well with runners on. And yet they cut a three-run lead to a one-run lead by the seventh, and they tied the game in the eighth. Why don’t all the runs they scored, along with the runs they didn’t allow, show up in the story? Sure, they should’ve scored more. But doesn’t that fact that the game was tied going into the ninth count for anything?

And then there’s this, about center fielder Torii Hunter:

“Hunter picked up two hits and drove in a run, but he undermined the Angels’ efforts too, dropping an easy fly ball off the bat of Boston first baseman Mark Kotsay in the seventh inning.”

Oh, by the way, the Red Sox didn’t score in that inning. So said drop is irrelevant.

And to finish off the article, professional sportswriter Eric Neel gives us this:

“You couldn’t blame them for cursing the gods who seemed to again and again show them the object of their desire Friday night only to deny them the last essential seeing-eye grounder, the crucial ball to the gap, and ultimately the pitch that would have struck Drew out. You couldn’t blame them for thinking there might be better luck, just enough good fortune to make the difference next year.”

So not only should the Angels give up, it’s ultimately not even their fault that they lost the first two games of the ALDS, because certain dickwad gods withheld from them the “object of their desire,” which sounds like a Danielle Steel novel.

Eric Neel is stupid. But we can’t let Mike Scioscia get away with this:

“This game ain’t over until somebody wins three games.” Guh-wah?

Whither The Business?

These are the two greatest referee calls in the history of American football:

But they’re both rather old. Why haven’t we seen this call more recently? Where has our beloved business gone? I think Ed Hochuli could redeem himself in an instant with such a call.

Placing these two at the top of Officiating Mountain, what are your favorite calls? 

As a side note, have you ever seen a football ref call the “palpably unfair act” penalty? It’s apparently the call for someone running off the sidelines to make a tackle or something egregious like that, but I’ve never seen it called.

What Is It To Be ‘Gangsta’?

A couple of days ago, crestfallen Mets fans were looking for something to cheer for; and they got it in the form of a complete game 3-hitter from lefty ace Johan Santana. In a game that the Mets had to have to keep their playoff hopes alive, Santana came off three-days rest and a game in which he had pitched a 125-pitch complete game shutout to wow fans with another commanding pitching performance. After the game, Mets manager addressed the media by praising Santana in a unique way. “Wow, wow, wow, wow,” he said. “I think if I had to describe that one, I’d say that was gangsta. That’s gangsta. That’s serious gangsta right there.”

Many questions arise when a middle-aged African-American manager describes a pitching performance in this way. First, would Manuel apply such language to a complete-game shutout by, say, Mike Pelfrey? That is, does race play any part in the application of “gangsta-ness”? Many in academia would contend that the term always already echoes raced intonations. However, some writers have argued that for Manuel, the term ‘gangsta‘ “is considered the ultimate compliment, a term of respect and admiration.” They assert that Manuel is simply trying to appeal to his younger athletes, and that the term sounds better than terms like ‘warrior’ or ‘titan.’ Indeed, he even reportedly applies the term to his own children. Quips Manuel: “A good report card: Now, that’s gangsta.” In these contexts, it becomes evident that ‘gangsta’ indicates success through hard work and dedication, and has none of the disparate cultural undertones that may exist in other situations.

However, this benign meaning seems at odds with Manuel’s use of the word ‘gangster,’ which does seem to have violent and aggressive connotations. In June, Manuel played it safe and pulled reluctant in-fielder Jose Reyes from the field because of the player’s tight hammy. Reyes threw his helmet, and Manuel felt he had to assert his authority. Said Manuel, “I told him next time he does that I’m going to get my blade out and cut him. I’m a gangster. You go gangster on me, I’m going to have to get you. You do that again, I’m going to cut you right on the field.” While it seems clear that Manuel was speaking metaphorically about the knife, it is also clear that the term ‘gangster’ is meant to call to mind the images of Gambinos, Sopranos and West-coast rappers: no-nonsense, by-any-means-necessary, self-assured and possibly violent individuals. ‘You show me up,’ Manuel was saying, ‘and I’ll put you down.’

Not only is this distinction fascinating within the world of baseball, but it also makes me wonder in what contexts I could use these words. If I make a spongy, yet firm bunt cake, can I show it to friends and brag, “Now that’s gangsta right there”? What if I am able to make gardenias flourish in soil whose acidity level is much too high to generally allow such perennials to bloom? Can I host a garden party, stoop by a patch of the creamy white blooms, pick up a handful of soil and say, “Soil pH my ass: you ain’t never seen somethin’ so gangsta as this!”

Conversely, if I drive through a Rally’s burger and am not given the ranch dressing I request for my chili cheese fries, may I return to the drive-in, ask for the worker who handed me my bag and claim that I will not stand for his insolence? Can I yelp, “I’m a gangster! My fries must have sufficient wet toppings!” Are there rules for who may take ownership of these words, and are there situational limits to their flexibility? How far can the arbitrariness of language extend?