A comical idea, another fake deadline and the offspring of stars
Okay, of all the crap we’ve heard during this NBA lockout – owners crying poor and talking about concessions that are simply smaller takeaways than first proposed, players talking about being “united” while a lot of ‘em are exploring overseas options, all the other boring BRI and “system” issues – here’s the one that I find most laughable:
A Players League!
Seriously. I read somewhere that Amar’e Stoudemire – while on a tour shilling his shoes that he wants fans to buy – made some crack about the players forming their own league since the NBA won’t “let them play.”
What’s that old saying?
Players – or the money-grubbing agents more interested in their future 4 per cent than anything – are going to find arenas, enough guys who want to take part, sponsors willing to run afoul of the league by backing something doomed to failure and the organizational skills to pull off a league?
You have got to be kidding.
Look, if you held a gun to my head, made me hold my nose and pick a side this ridiculous dispute over a $4 billion business, I’d come down on the side of the players. They are being asked to give back gains they’ve made in legitimate collective bargaining sessions over the years and the owners simply want protection from themselves. It stinks but it’s the way it has to be, I’m afraid.
But to think the players could somehow start a legitimate league is laughable.
More of those silly exhibition games? Maybe.
A competitive league? Ridiculous. And not just for them, either. There are no TV deals to be made for some rival league – at least not ones worth anything – and there are no arenas that aren’t already locked up or an infrastructure in place.
So we can forget that, okay?
These darn varmints as still screwing with the growing sod and seem to have set up winter camp under the deck and as I sit on the front porch and watch the magestic maple and skinny birch trees create leaf carnage I’m rethinking that.
David Stern goes on a popular New York City radio yesterday and then sits down with NBA TV and I figure if I turn on the TV this morning, he might be chatting with Rachael Ray.
Oh, and it’s all doom and gloom: League wants a deal, he doesn’t think the union does; Tuesday’s an important day because he can see the whole season slipping away; Christmas games are definitely in peril.
Oh, and the players are meeting in Los Angeles today, I believe, and I’m sure we’ll be inundated with stories of solidarity and not giving in and sticking together.
Interesting item by my colleague Zelk on CFL quarterbacks now that Anthony Calvillo has passed for a billion or so yards and become the most prolific QB in history.
Is he the greatest CFL quarterback ever?
I must admit I’ve seen less of him than I have of the others who’d get some consideration, watching CFL games on TV has become a victim of time, I simply don’t have enough each weekend.
But if I had to rank them, I’d probably go with:
I was a CFL scribbler for a couple of years in the 1990s when Flutie was around and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more creative football player in my life. He just did wild things. And well.
If you go by winning, he has to be here, no? What’d he have? Five Grey Cups in his short career? I think people might forget how good he was.
By sheer dint of yards and time, he’s definitely in consideration but somehow, he doesn’t elicit the excitement in the mind that the other two do.
He’s retired, right? Bet he’d still be able to do something for this sorry lot of Argos.
Now, I don’t know where Russ Jackson fits on this list but if you’re doing Top 5 – and Zelk’s story on did four – he’d have to be the other one, wouldn’t he?
Hey, how come nobody told me Chynna Phillips got whacked on DWTS? People!
And I’m not sure I realized – or I’d forgotten – that she was the progeny of half of the Mamas and Papas which can only mean …
There’s nothing like a long late-afternoon/evening of baseball playoff doubleheader is there?
Seriously, two fine games yesterday, one hugely dramatic one followed by an okay one the night before and it’s like a ritual of fall.
But the problem I have this year, or this week at least, is that I cannot come to enjoy the announcing teams.
We know that good tastes runs more to the under-stated – Vin Scully should do every post-season game every year – and these guys on Fox and the international feed we’re getting on Turner just seem to turn me off.
Too excited, too verbose, not nearly enough good stories told for my liking.
Besides, just about every time I hear Gary Thorne I think of the pucks and shudder a bit.