Because we can’t cover everything, and we don’t work weekends, each Friday, Sports Casualties’ two co-authors will write two separate reviews of the past week. These startling pieces of immediate nostalgia will cover whatever topics the writers care to include. Consider this a wallet-sized picture that you can carry with you the entire weekend to hold yourself over until Monday when we will be back and better than ever. To read Robbie Hilson’s far more thoughtful take on the week, click here. I like it because it says my name a lot.
This is officially my first post of Spring Break 2010, and I know exactly what you, loyal SC reader, are thinking: What does this mean for me, Bryan?
Well, SC super fan, this means that for the next week, you will be treated to a blog that is more tan, controversial and hungover, than ever. I have packed a trash bag full of bathing suits, an array of bright-colored clothing and enough cheap tequilla to drown the Yucatan Peninsula. Prepare yourself for the journey of a lifetime and look for me on MTV.
Okay, so in all reality, this will not exactly be a rockstar spring break. The next week will be filled with much more spring training baseball than wet T-shirt contests and more country bars than beachside watering holes. Such is life in the spring break haven of Carrollwood, Tampa’s most edgy and soccer mom-littered district. The despicable rumors that I am actually writing this post in the office of my parents’ house are completely ridiculous, and possibly true.
But enough about me. Let’s do this.
Because Adam Schefter needs things to talk about, the NFL Combine was held this week in Indianapolis. The combine is heaven for attribute nerds who will surely use this week’s drills to fuel their “Madden NFL 2011” debates in the fall. It is also a great way of telling you who would win on Sundays if games consisted solely of 40-yard races and jumping contests.
The unanimously declared “winners” of the combine seem to be giant OT Bruce Campbell (who may be able to beat Joe Haden in a foot race), S Taylor “Usain Bolt” Mays and RB C.J. Spiller. Tim Tebow also proved that he is very athletic and not afraid to run around in compression shorts in front of throngs of doughnut-munching scouts.
Speaking of Tebow, on Thursday, he had a personal workout with well-known quarterback collector Jon Gruden at the fields of Carrollwood Day School in Tampa. The workout took place in a portion of the outfield where likely the world’s most lackadaisical softball game was being played simultaneously.
Tebow practiced his delivery and decision-making, utilizing dangerous playmakers like one Deuce Gruden.
It had to be interesting to watch Tebow and F-bomb connoisseur Gruden work together. They are a pair that was truly made in the laboratory of polar opposites. Maybe they were able to bond over some Bon Jovi.
Jon Gruden: Feather-bang enthusiast.
Earlier this week, LeBron James, who SC prefers to refer to simply as The King, announced for approximately the 39th time that he will be changing his jersey number from 23 to six after this season. The move is a spontaneous tribute to Michael Jordan, who The King feels should no longer have his number duplicated by any NBA player.
I bet Bill Russell feels shafted.
In a pregame ceremony to recognize Olympic hockey participants on Tuesday night, the city of Pittsburgh gave visiting goalie and American hero Ryan Miller a much more enthusiastic ovation than they awarded to hometown star and Canadian savior Sidney Crosby.
Crosby, well-known to resist fights and all other things respectable, appeared to remain very composed during the slight snub. However, I like to imagine that during the first intermission, he tearfully stormed into the locker room cursing the fans and all things unfair. A boy can dream.
It has been an interesting week for SC. On Wednesday, our humble site was hijacked by the mischevious writers of the “Tonight Show.” Their artistic ensemble of one-liners received about 200 fewer reads than Robbie Hilson’s “Lost” recaps. Further proof that NBC is in the gutter.
There is a popular cliche that says “you learn something new every day.” That is not necessarily true, unless you are a daily reader of SC.
I experienced this phenomenon this week. On Thursday, co-author Hilson released mind-numbing information through his rugged style of investigative journalism that I can only describe as Pulitzer-worthy. What he discovered completely changed my outlook on the world’s greatest male figure skater.
It appears that Evan Lysacek, American gold medalist who may or may not have been the unfair punchline to a few of my tasteless Winter Olympic jokes, is quite the ladies man. Not only has Lysacek been linked to gold medal gymnast Nastia Liukin in the past, but he is currently dating ice dancer and SC favorite, Tanith Belbin.
This is revolutionary news that increases the appeal of figure skating in the “everyday dude” demographic. Lysacek is officially the master of landing attractive American olympians who aren’t really American.
Let’s briefly talk wrestling.
This coming Monday, TNA will debut their new, occasionally live version of “Impact” which will go head-to-head with WWE’s “Monday Night Raw,” officially sparking Great White Trash Ratings War II. This is the first time that anyone has tried to directly compete with “Raw” since WCW ignited the famed “Monday Night Wars” which created the 1990s wrestling boom that spawned stars like The Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin.
That war ended in 2001 when Ted Turner got tired of Ric Flair making suggestive comments about his wife on national television and sold WCW to WWE.
So with the world watching, these two companies will surely use the platform to boost new stars that will keep fans coming back for years, right? Wrong.
If you tune into “Raw” on Monday night, you will see a match between Vince McMahon and John Cena. Switch over to Spike TV and see a TNA tag match that features Hulk Hogan, and yes, the 61-year-old Nature Boy himself.
Enjoy and notice Naitch’s ode to Gainesville at 1:18.
It’s nice to see that wrestling has manufactured some new star power in the last 20 years.
This Sunday is the Academy Awards. Now I know that I’m a cultureless individual for saying this, but I have watched the Oscars in their entirety exactly once in my life. That one time was last year when I watched simply because I had mentally devoted myself to seeing Mickey Rourke win a golden naked guy for his performance in “The Wrestler.”
The time came to announce best actor. My palms were sweaty as I sat on the edge of my bed awaiting the announcement of everyone’s favorite Hollywood screw-up. And then Michael Douglas pulled the card out of the envelope and read “and the Oscar goes to Sean Penn.” I was then treated to a lovely speech where Penn told me what an awful American I am.
Few times in my non-sports television watching life have I been more devastated. I scaled my dresser prepared to deliver a Ram Jam to my television a la Randy “The Ram” Robinson.
I won’t be watching the Oscars this year. Tell me who wins on Monday.
AND NOW…(drum roll)
WHY I HAVE WRITER’S BLOCK: The Never-Ending Saga
In no specific order, and with no real explanation, this is my weekly look at some of the things that kept me distracted while I was trying to write.
A man heavily inspired by Clint Eastwood’s performance in “Gran Torino.”
A story of fame and maturity.
What to Watch on Television this Weekend
Because although we live in a country where we are free to watch whatever we want, deep down inside we still want people to tell us what to watch.
Spring Training Baseball – MLB Network – All Weekend
Parents’ extensive cable: The small pleasures of spring break.
NASCAR Kobalt Tools 500 – FOX – Sunday, 1 P.M.
NASCAR, good. Atlanta, good.
82nd Annual Academy Awards – ABC – Sunday, 8 P.M.
Watch so you can tell me who wins.
Have an uproarious weekend.