Pro sports' richest: Updating the list

Last time we looked, the richest clubs in the world, at least according to the latest Forbes valuations, had Manchester United at the top of the global heap.

But with the business magazine's latest NFL projections out last week, and the Washington Redskins just getting filthier and filthier in the chips, it's time to change up the order. Here they are, your world top 10, according to Forbes, and of course as they roll out the various sports thru the coming year this'll be an opportunity to shuffle the deck:

1 Washington Redskins (NFL) $1.423 billion
2 Manchester United (England) 1.373 billion
3 New England Patriots (NFL) 1.176 billion
4 Dallas Cowboys (NFL) 1.173 billion
5 Houston Texans (NFL) 1.043 billion
6 Philadelphia Eagles (NFL) 1.024 billion
7 Real Madrid (Spain) 1.012 billion
8 Denver Broncos (NFL) 975 million
9 Cleveland Browns (NFL) 970 million
10 Tampa Bay Buccaneers (NFL) 955 million

Flick picks

It's time for an end of summer ritual: going through the list of films at the Toronto International Film Festival, coming up with a shortlist that gets culled again into an even shorterlist of films I never see.

So it's down to this from that overall whack of 352, according to TIFF -- reel 'em back to back, and it's almost as long as the Leafs' Cup drought -- I've come up with 23 and if I get to more than two of them, it'll be a good score. A week from today it all starts in what running pal and Star film guy Peter Howell calls "the critic's World Cup".

Reuters

Zidane: Caught on film, it's a must-see.

As far as sports flicks, looks like there's two surefire winners and a few possibilities that are worth a second look:

Zidane: Un Portrait du XXIe Siecle (A 21st-century Portrait). North American premiere. Seventeen cameras follow Zinedine Zidane around the pitch during a 2005 Real Madrid-Villareal game. Simple premise -- don't go in expecting any head-butts. Still, looks like a must-see.

Offside. North American prem. A comedy about Iranian women who defy the all-male soccer crowd rule, dressing up as men in order to get into a World Cup qualifying match. This is the other sports must on my list. Here's director Jafar Panahi in an interview (including clips) with openDemocracy:

openDemocracy: The film is very funny, and at times almost farcical. How important is humour to you in telling the story?
Jafar Panahi: I believe that it is the greatest insult to women that they have to deny their identity as women and have to dress as men to take part in society. So yes, there is humour, but it is bitter humour. You may laugh at it, but nevertheless you feel very sad that women have to deny their femininity to take part in a function where men can take part.

So there are my two top picks. Some others:

Paperback Hero. Early '70s Canadian film about a small-town Saskatchewan hockey star who can't let go. Okay movie, I recall, but cut from the same cloth as too many others of the era and frankly, I preferred the CanCon unclassic Face-Off for its Jim McKenny skating scenes, Derek Sanderson as Derek Sanderson, the sideburns, the tie-dye, but especially the moment in the coffee shop where an old man-fan cackles to George Armstrong: "God bless ya Armie. I hope ya have a 50-goal season."

White Palms. Gold medal winning gymnast Kyle Shewfelt is one of the co-stars in this one, about a Hungarian gymnast who comes to Canada and tries to get his groove back as a coach, with Shewfelt as his phenom. Could be okay. Could also be TV Movie of the Week fare.

Schuss! Not sure what to make of this one. It's about skiing. Maybe.

Rating the tubeheads

Now here's some dog-days material: Chris Zelkovich's readers' poll of the best and worst in sports broadcasting.

AP PHOTO

Football gold. At least, the guy on the left.

Okay, I'll bite (it's either that or do a where's-Malkin post). And with nearly four decades of time wasted listening to this kind of stuff, here's my own choices drawing on all those dead brain cells:

Best baseball announcer: Vin Scully or Jon Miller. Take Scully, for longevity's sake.
Best baseball analyst: Tony Kubek was good for a number of years. Amazingly, he kept his mouth shut most of the time.
Best football announcer: Chris Cuthbert is the people's choice. I can't argue, although it's not a category where there are a lot of candidates. Pat Summerall for years was the gold standard in the U.S., and he fits too.
Best football analyst: I kind of like the stylings of Cris Collinsworth on the NFL -- okay, I tolerate him -- but again, it's football. Glen Suitor does a decent job on the CFL these days.
Best hockey announcer: Easy. Danny Gallivan. From today's lot, Jim Hughson by a mile.
Best hockey analyst: Before he became a best-selling author, Leafs president and parliamentarian, Ken Dryden was pretty good. Well, I liked him, anyway.
Best other announcer: It's a shame we don't get more of Kevin Calabro here.
Best radio host: Don Landry.
Best TV anchor: Is there such an animal?
Best TV host: Brian Williams. No one gives the time in Saskatoon like Brian.
Best hair: In his prime, Hubie Brown, including a highlighted perm that looked like bubble wrap on his head.
Most annoying anchor: Aren't they all?
Most irritating laugh: Oh c'mon. Joe Bowen in a slow trot.
Guy most in need of a microphone muffler: Howard Cosell. In his prime, he was a motormouth for all seasons, and had the requisite heightened sense of self-importance. For a little slice, check out this 1983 interview with the CBC's Barbara Frum.
Guy whose mouth should be duct-taped: Bill Walton and Tim McCarver. A tie. Can you imagine getting to your seat in the airplane and finding these two on either side of you?
Newspaper guy on TV who should stay in newspapers: All of 'em.

All-time dysfunctionals

It hit me last night, while Stephon Marbury was driving the basket then turning away, his disinterest kicking in just in the nick of time, or while Steve Francis pounded the ball as if trying to bore a hole to China, then charged head down to nowhere and threw it away, or Maurice Taylor doing anything, or Channing Frye limping out of the season, or Isiah Thomas staring as if trapped in a burning car, or Larry Brown trying to figure out what to say after this one.

On dysfunction scale, can Knicks match Jacksons?

These New York Knicks are not pretty. They are barely watchable, given that you're hiding your eyes most of the time. But they are historic, perhaps. We won't see their likes again for some time, I reckon -- or at least till next year.

The question now, with less than a month until the Knicks pack up the tent and wait for the dry ice to settle on their lottery ball: In terms of all-time dysfunctional bunches, where do they rank? The definition covers not teams that are bad or even mediocre, which are a dime a dozen. More to the point, they must be composed of mismatched parts whose dysfunction rises in direct proportion to the salaries paid and the flop in terms of results achieved.

Chris Clarke at End of the Bench has already decided, it seems:

"This is the most any collection of players on one team has made since, say, ever. They are the most overpaid team in history at this point. I can’t think of the appropriate joke, but when did any group of people get paid so much to do such a terrible job?"

From one Chris to another and on to you, it's time to find out.

The most obvious corollary from today's landscape is Real Madrid, the galacticos trophyless for the past three years despite fielding the most glittering array of star power in the game, and a payroll. The New York Rangers of recent pre-lockout vintage were particularly dysfunctional.

Dipping back way into the past in these parts, the Argos of the early 1970s consistently signed high-priced talent (from Theismann to Anthony Davis to Terry Metcalf) and failed miserably, sometimes spectacularly.

Moving outside sports, how 'bout those Jacksons? Napoleon's Grand Armee?

Even Real, those Argos and the Jacksons look good next to the Knicks, whose record of 19 and 47 is but a game ahead of bottomest, second-year Charlotte in the league standing, and whose payroll of $124 million makes Mark Cuban's Mavericks ($97 mil.) look like pikers. And that payroll actually rises next year! So perhaps they're not done yet, these dysfunctional-for-the-ages Knicks.

I do think it's going to take something to catch them. Your candidates, please, for the Most Dysfunctional Teams in History. (And to start it off, nothing like a good Googlefight.)

UPDATE: That Skeets guy, he's back.

The 10 most hated...

Not an easy list to make but always good for an argument (Lleyton Hewitt? I barely know how to spell his name), and No. 1 is no big surprise (no spoiler here): GQ has it's 10 Most Hated Athletes list, and thanks to the Sports Filter for the link.

Only problem with this one is that it lacks Canadian content, but I'm sure we can come up with some suggestions. Vince Carter and Todd Bertuzzi spring immediately to mind.

Hazing gets the gate

Hate to disturb you from World Series fever -- is anyone out there feeling it? C'mon now, someone's got to have it -- but how do you feel about hazing?

This is a hot-button subject right now. I turned on the CBC this morning, and they'd trotted out the dreaded "sports sociologist" for comment. The newspaper editorialists are weighing in, along with Pat Quinn and Wayne Gretzky, and most everyone is condemnatory.

This is as much a question of social custom, though, as it is one of sport -- the first haircut, for instance, is closely paralleled by the bean shaves that rookies in team sports are often subjected to. Sometimes these traditions, especially when they involve closed societies (like a team sport, with it's built-in insiders/outsiders dynamic), turn quite nasty -- anyone who saw Goodfellas, for example, might conclude that these kinds of initiations aren't necessarily a secure career move.

The Ontario Hockey League has adopted a zero-tolerance policy on these matters, so the penalties have been heavy. The situation has been equated, unfairly, with what's happened at McGill University, where the rest of the football season has been cancelled because of humiliating and degrading hazing.

But nobody in Windsor was hurt. Four rookies were targetted for the rite because they were rookies, and nothing more. You might be repulsed by it, and it's silly and stupid, but it's the same kind of thing that's been going on "since Plato's time, probably", according to Quinn. Hey, it's junior hockey, not nuclear physics. As Star junior hockey chronicler Sunaya Sapurji has noted in her blog, the hazing might have been a flashpoint that led to a fight between rookie Akim Aliu and veteran Steve Downie -- or it might not have, the incidents being 19 days apart. Whatever you figure, there are no saints to be found in this whole mess.

I don't buy the slippery-slope argument here, or see how the two situations -- McGill and the Spits, that is -- are equal. As for the Spitfires' hazing, and the fighting, the latter is a far worse example of losing control when it comes to a coach's responsibility, and that of his players. Zero tolerance doesn't allow for such fine distinctions, though. 

Elsewhere this morning, this is what's rattling our chains:

The Astros are finally going to the World Series, so let the snooze alarm games begin! And that is, indeed, the end of the line for Larry Walker.

The Argos head into Montreal this weekend, relying on Sean Millington to carry a heavy load.

Alvin Williams is back, and Vince Carter is applauding. For five minutes, anyway, which is maybe five minutes more than anyone figured at the start of training camp. He might even be ready to do more. And not to make ya shudder but: Dennis Rodman in Tijuana?

Cathal Kelly takes a look at FIFA boss Sepp Blatter, and doesn't much like the view.

Oh, and this: in Oklahoma City, Eric James Torpy, convicted of shooting with intent to kill and robbery, argued for a longer sentence than the 30 years agreed to by defence and prosecuting attorneys:

“He said if he was going to go down, he was going to go down in Larry Bird’s jersey,” Oklahoma County District Judge Ray Elliott said of the sentece, 33 years to match the former Boston Celtic's number. “We accommodated his request and he was just as happy as he could be. I’ve never seen anything like this in 26 years in the courthouse. But, I know the DA is happy about it.’’

We're No. 57,266!

            According to Blogpulse, 57,265 web logs were created in the past 24 hours.

            Make that 57,266 – a little more than the world’s population increase every six hours, but less than the number of words Joe Theismann uses on the average football broadcast.

            In other words, we’re a grain of sand on the beach, a pixel on the HDTV of life.

Even the tiniest of particles vibrate, though, so here we are – and what better time to crack the bottle of champagne over the bow of a new sports blog than September? Pennant races, football (and futbol) injuries, hockey’s back, the season for marathons and horse races.

            In other words, there are more hopes on the line this time of year than any other. And on the subject of that, is there a better team going than the Cleveland Indians, the easiest team to like in pro sports right now?

            Last night, the Indians won in Chicago with the same recipe they’ve used for the past few months: the best bullpen in the league, smart baseball sense, nice defence, timely hitting and the game’s next great player.

As good as they look, though, the White Sox, which held a 15-game lead on Aug. 1, counter with the emotionless, haunted visage of fabled September collapsing artists – it's so quiet, writes Mike Downey, "you could hear a pennant drop" -- which is the other side, always, of these kind of autumn stories. Bucky (Bleeping) Dent is nobody without the ’78 Red Sox, and Yaz slumping his shoulders after popping up to third for the final out. The ’04 Red Sox are nothing without the Yankees’ swoon for the ages, with A-Rod’s slap the pratfall that best illustrated their fall (and those ’04 Red $ox, with baseball’s second biggest payroll behind the default-setting Yanks, are just another baseball team without the overrated baggage of all those title-starved years following them around). If the White Sox are indeed done when this is all over, they too will carry that iconic moment of failure -- unless, like the '64 Phillies, the mere mention of their name is enough.

But that was last year. It's the Red Sox' turn to get back to their usual gagging, and over at the always entertaining Soxaholix, they're asking the question:

"When exactly did the Sox toss out all the Bill James books and replace them with Deepak Chopra?"

A troubling thought: There’s an entire generation just coming of age here in Toronto that can’t remember just how delicious this pennant race stuff is. It's either/or, all month long, which sure beats trying to remember what year we're into J.P.'s rebuilding plan.

A question for the day, because for another fall, all we have are memories: What was the biggest sporting collapse you can remember by a Toronto team? And the most memorable comeback? Let me know, and more, in the comments.

Couple of other good reads this morning:

Fan apathy, a boring product, soaring ticket prices, spiralling salaries -- welcome to the Premier League.

Best. Video game. Ever.