Sports With Mark

Babod Wants Out of Oakland?

2010-02-15T21:36:00.000-08:00

You heard it here first. Apparently, things are not going well for Raiders superfan Babod (Black Ass Bringer of Death) in the cyberspace treehouse of Silver and Blackdom. Seems that relations between him and various members of the Oakland Raiders Darkside (www.oaklandraidersdarkside.com) have been acrimonious dating at least back to last year's infamous Denver road trip and assuredly before that. After said incident in Denver, he was banished from the Darkside only to make an appearance at the Summit tailgate with a ready-made apology. After pleading for forgiveness, he was brought back into the fold.

However, relations since the offseason began this year have been definitely strained. Some point to Babod's extreme intoxication at a tailgate at one of the last home games of the year. Others note that he was never fully pardoned due to the severity of the offense on the roadtrip. Regardless, word has it that Babod is fed up with the draconian abrasiveness of the group and now wants to take his fan membership elsewhere...that is, to another team.

According to a source speaking on condition of anonymity, two teams up for consideration are the San Francisco 49ers and Kansas City Chiefs. Babod is reportedly taking a serious look at joining an AFC West team "so he can come back to haunt the Silver and Black. He was broken-hearted at first when he began to see the writing on the wall...but now he's pissed. Really pissed."

Stay tuned for fireworks, people. I get the feeling this ain't over yet--and you can bet your ass that a certain group of cyber cavemen haven't heard the last of this loquacious crazy mofo.

We’re on our way to Wollongong

2010-02-15T21:35:00.000-08:00

We're on our way to Wollongong
Peace and joy in every bong
We're gonna see Miss Tracy
The cute little lass who writes so racy

We're gonna have fun in Wollongong
Feed Tracy's spider and get some hot cider
And just for some good measure too
We'll take a ride on her kangaroo
And when I'm done getting back rubs
She'll cook up some tasty grubs

We're gonna have fun in Wollongong
I know it, so why's your face so long
Dry those tears, Tracy's cheers
Will have me warm so can't go wrong!

Raider Nation National Anthem (Sung to the tune of Borat’s Kazakhstan National Anthem)

2010-02-15T21:32:00.001-08:00

Raiderfornia greatest country in the world.
All other countries are run by little girls.
Raiderfornia number one exporter of porn dolls.
Other countries have inferior porn dolls.

Raiderfornia home of Acorn project housing.
It's length thirty meter and width six meter.
Judicial system a marvel to behold.
It remove 20 percent of human fuckoffs and addicts.

Raiderfornia, Raiderfornia you very nice place.
From bathhouses of Ninerville to Norther fence of Boltfagtown.
Raiderfornia friend of all except Boltfagtown.
They very gayish people with semen on their brain.

Raiderfornia industry best in world.
We invented malt liquor and cracksmoking.
Raiderfornia prostitutes cleanest in the region.
Except of course for New Orleans'.

Raiderfornia, Raiderfornia you very nice place.
From bathhouses of Ninerville to Norther fence of Boltfagtown

Come grasp the mighty penis of our leader Alholio.
From junction with the testes to tip of its face!

Letter--Marcos Breton, Sacramento Bee (2006)

2010-02-15T21:26:00.000-08:00

Recently, I have noticed that you've been under a lot of fire by readers for your pro-minority approach to sports coverage. Many readers who followed the World Baseball Classic were dismayed by your perceived elation at Mexico beating the United States. Now I'll say this: Marcos, I can't say that I agree with some of your views, but I do applaud your perspective on the changing face of baseball and your vigilance on bigotry in sports (which occurs even in the year 2006). The people who express anger at your pro-minority viewpoint need to learn a lesson from your columns and realize that sports isn't made up of the Norman Rockwell paintings they would like to make it out to be.

Regarding Barry Bonds, I agree that most of Barry's problems and controversies are of his own doing. His personality and people skills flat out suck most of the time. But I think people dog Barry mostly because he doesn't fit the desired American image of a smiling, happy-go-lucky, carefree non-threatening black man. Babe Ruth was a heavy drinker, carouser, womanizer and sloth, yet he's not just a baseball immortal, but an American cultural icon. Ty Cobb was a malicious, mean-spirited bigoted alcoholic who played the game with abandon but was a very despicable person. Steve Garvey was a philanderer but had a carefully crafted apple-pie media image on the exterior. Steve Carlton refused to talk to the media for years but made the Hall of Fame anyway. Jeff Kent got in a fistfight with Bonds in the dugout and has one of the gruffest personalities in the the game, but people don't think about that.

So yes, I think Bonds' predicaments are of his own making...BUT...he gets more negative press and scrutiny than he would if he were a white superstar. Just my thoughts. Peace.

Mark - Thanks so much for the very thoughtful note. I really appreciate it.

Marcos Breton

RE: A life squandered away, yet celebrated

2010-02-15T21:15:00.000-08:00

From: Mark Bryant [mailto:bryant_mb@yahoo.com]
Sent: Wednesday, December 07, 2005 2:04 PM
To: Marcos Breton
Subject: RE: A life squandered away, yet celebrated

RE: A life squandered away, yet celebrated

Alcoholism is a specific disease. It is an affliction that severely impairs the ability of an individual to avoid those "bad choices" that plague just about everyone who has lost a job, been uprooted or otherwise had life difficulties due to this illness. It was and is something beyond the control of people like George Best, Darryl Strawberry, Mickey Mantle, Sad Sam Jones and Thomas "Hollywood" Henderson. While there is no excuse for a mismanaged drunken life, people who do succumb to this disease deserve compassion and loving remembrance just as any other individual in memoriam.

It is also common knowledge that, just like in every other profession around the globe, a significant number of writers-yes this would include sportswriters-are sufferers from alcoholism. So, Mr. Breton, would you care to venture that should a colleague of yours someday fall prey to the bottle, they should be only remembered for their weakness and faults and not their accomplishments in life? Just something to think about.

Mr.. Bryant - Thanks so much for reading and for taking the time to write. I really appreciate it. I am in complete agreement with you on alcohol being a disease and never suggested otherwise. The quote you cite about bad choices was a quote within my column. But even in quotations, I didn't take it to mean that the man I was quoting - Leroy Chatfield - meant that literally. He was quoting a misperception about alcoholism, one that people often wrongly boil down to choices. His point was the Georgie was just as afflicted as the destitute alcoholics that Chatfield had known in his life. And I wanted to explore that idea in this column. Georgie had a terrible disease, one he couldn't even kick after he had been given a liver transplant. He died at 59, way too young for a man of his means. And really, Mr.. Bryant, your point about alcoholics deserving loving remembrance is well taken because my column was a form of loving remembrance. I spent most of the column waxing poetic about a goal I saw a quarter century ago - a moment I'll never forget. I loved Georgie even though I didn't know him and if they sold his jersey anywhere - I've scoured the internet to no avail - I would wear it proudly. He made an impression on me and I admired him very much. But I do think that you can love someone while also being honest about who they were and what they did. You mention colleagues falling prey to substance abuse? I've been though that, saw a college classmate get fired from his job at the Stockton Record because he couldn't stop drinking. I've also known family members - two dear uncles, to be specific - who died alone and estranged from their families because of the bottle. I still love them today and remember them fondly. But I remember them drunk too - and those scenes in my mind are much darker. Georgie was touched by the angels and had a gift but he also left a neglected son, battered and abused wives, policemen he hit and countless friends he let down, in his wake. His life was horribly mismanaged to the end. Despite squandered millions and a soiled career, he kept drinking. Even when a team of doctors basically volunteered their services to get him a liver transplant, he kept drinking. All of Britain rallied around him - just as we fans in San Jose had done the same 25 years before - and damned if that guy still didn't break our hearts. The doctors said drinking would kill him if he started again after getting his new liver, but there was Georgie - drinking again even as his gorgeous second wife left him. And what did he do the photographer who snapped the photo of him drinking again? He punched him. Georgie punched a lot of people. It's just who he was. Thanks again and I hope you keep reading the column. Happy Holidays.

Marcos Breton

I Need A Beer

2010-02-07T03:52:00.000-08:00

6/23/08

One bright and early morning, I'm on my way into work and I pull into the 7-11 for a pack of smokes. No sooner than I pull into a parking space right outside, than I see some fuckass--errrr, street resident, errr, indigent person--standing there just licking his chops waiting to solicit my ass so he can be that much close to his drunk or fix or whatever his high of choice is.

I'm already pissed because (A) I'm on my way to the motherfucking salt mines, and (B) I don't dig giving away my hard-earned coin to some goddamned able bodied con-man standing on a corner someplace, and (C) this fool ain't got nothing better to do than hassle my ass for my hard-earned coin.

Even when I was going through that shit, I never stooped low as to beg motherfuckers. Fuck that shit.

I just did dumpster diving instead. Nice, independent work with little interpersonal contact. Interacting with people sucks shit anyway.

Anyway, I head to the store entrance, and dude starts up his tired-ass spiel of need. I'm thinking, if I give you a dollar, will you go the fuck away?

"Uhhhhh.....uhhhhhh.....I need a beer."

Fuck it.

"OK dude, you want a beer? I'll get you one. Just hold on and I'll be right back."

I go inside and buy a tall can of O'Doul's with my smokes, get a brown bag and stick the O'Doul's in it so it looks like any old normal leaded beer. In fact, it's neutered beer, but homeboy won't know this till it's too late.

I got outside, hand him the brown bag with the contents. "Uhhahhhh, thankya thankya thankya," in that inimitable goobbledygook mumbling that only drunks, junkies and retarded fucks can perfect so well. I start walking to my car giggling under my breath. I'm just getting to the door and preparing to get behind the wheel, when evidently homeboy has decoded my hoax:

"MMMMMMMMOTHERFUCKERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Gotta love street people.

It’s Free

2010-02-07T03:51:00.001-08:00

6/23/08

On break today, I'm thumbing through Sac's Alive and Kicking music rag; it's a way to keep up on all the local bands without so much as coughing up a penny. I'm reading about how this dork went to his first rock concert in 1985 and had to leave early so his mommy wouldn't worry about him. In the process, he missed Ratt and Scorpion play. Talk about fuckin' gay. Anyway, David Jones comes sidling up to me at the paper rack in the snack shack. "What are you doing, Mark? You can't just look at that you have to pay for--"

"It's FREE, faggot!!!!!!!!!!!" I duly inform him of his erroneous assumption. OK, maybe in a pitch higher than I intended to and a couple of heads may have turned.

But fuck, it was hella funny. One bright spot in a boring ass day at the motherfucking salt mines. Sarcasticness and nastiness uber alles, baby!!!!!

The Homeless

2010-02-07T03:49:00.000-08:00

Spring 2008

It never ceases to amaze me how callous and heartless people can be towards those who they see as worthless and society's outcasts. But for the grace of God, they would be in their shoes.

There are people, from the sanctuary of their full kitchens and stocked pantries, from the warmth of their beds and well-insulated homes who, filled with the smug, sanctimonious stench of self-satisfaction, intone: "Homeless people choose to be homeless. They want no responsibility and think they're living totally free. They choose to live that way."

Bullshit. You think a person functioning in their right mind actually would want to live this way? Dressed in the same filthy clothes day after day, scrounging from dumpsters for food and other necessities, harassed by police and strangers. You try pushing all your worldly belongings around in a shopping cart or carrying them on your back with a sleep roll everywhere you go because obviously, you have no place to store or keep them. It's like camping out? Yeah, it's all fun and games when you don't have a place to lay your head and you sleep whenever and wherever you can find a safe spot. And even then, you don't really sleep because you're in constant worry that you'll get rolled, attacked, have your shit stolen, or get your fucking throat slit by some other crazy wacko.

Yeah, that sure sounds like fucking blissful carefree hippie hoboistic lifestyle living to me.

I don't deny for a second that drug addiction, alcoholism and mental issues are a huge part of the problem of being homeless. I will readily agree that most people who find themselves in that position played a pretty good role in putting themselves there. But let's not kid ourselves and think that there's really that much difference between people who live in attractive houses in upscale neighborhoods who are slowly killing themselves with destructive lifestyles and the skid-row derelict. The bum in the army fatigues just happens to be poor, that's all. The upscale guy is in a better position, so he can get away with it. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that drugs and booze can bring a person at the top of the food chain to their knees just as devastatingly as someone on the bottom. Some of the people at the so-called bottom were once up there themselves.

Next, another canard: "I am hard working and if everyone worked hard like me, there would be no homelessness. I don't feel any sympathy for their plight."

I know a lot of people who are successful who do indeed work hard and have a conscientious, diligent work ethic. And I happen to know a lot of people who have all the material prerequisites, but in fact, they don't do shit. These are people whose parents have money and they mooch off of them, or they have some cushy job that was just handed to them. It goes both ways: there are people who are decent, hard-working individuals who would give you the shirt off their backs who happen to be on the streets. And there are lazy fuckheads who can't really be reached; they would squander every cent they had if they were given a million-dollar check. It's the combination of hard work and getting yourself in a good position to take advantage of an opportunity plus being in the right place at the right time that makes the difference.

It should not be our mission to save everyone, because only those who want help can be helped. It is, however, our responsibility to do our part to help make this world a better place. That means getting off of our asses and high horses to think about what some people go through every day in order to survive while we live in a comparative fantasyland Shangri-La. The Phil Collins hit from 1989, "Another Day In Paradise", comes to mind.

The problem in this fucked-up society we live in is that the smartest, most persevering people of strength and character often have unrealized potential and thus do not reap their just rewards. This is a society where he who dies with the most toys wins. This is a selfish, me-oriented society where people with a materialistic and superficial-centric mindset most often come out on top. Empathy is damn near nonexistent, except in cases where it's directly impacting your life.

Other than that, we sit in our nice little air-conditioned and heated fucking cocoons, sip our lattes and type mindless shit on our funky little laptops, drive our SUV's with oversized plastic shells to a place where we spend eight to five like mice on a goddamn treadmill. God forbid we actually are forced to think outside our nice little convenient lives of plasticity and think outside the box. Naw, that's too fuckin' hard. Or think about the possibility to being in places most of us can't comprehend or relate to and spend most of our waking hours working in order to be as far away from the threat of those places as possible.

Four or five years ago, I was one of those people that we love to ridicule and taunt as we're driving by seeing them hold up a cardboard sign. That we love to curse as we see them hanging out next to some store where we're going to go buy some more shit. The people that we love to crush under our feet and love to hate. I was one of those people that when you see me coming, you cross the street. You probably saw me pushing all my shit down the street on a cart. You probably either ignored me or laughed and kept driving. Yeah, I was one of those fuckin' people that you despise and try to keep away from. I don't bring this up a whole lot, and I don't like talking about it to too many people. About ten years ago, shortly after leaving the military, I was homeless, and a few years ago I was in that same spot. I was lucky enough to get my shit together, go back to school and get my degree, and find gainful employment in a career (stop laughing) that I'm still at today. No, I'm not wealthy or filthy rich. I don't have a lot of the outward signs of opulence. Considering where I've been, however, I still consider myself blessed beyond belief.

I'm not any smarter or better than anyone else. I just happened to be fortunate to (A) have a family that supported me through my trials and tribulations and (B) have some shit go my way for a change. It doesn't take much in this day and age to lose your job. Once you get sucked down into the pattern of destitution, it takes more energy just to tread water in one place than just living a "normal" life. Trust me, I know.

I've been there.

Liberals vs. Conservatives

2010-02-07T03:48:00.000-08:00

Fuck liberals. And fuck conservatives too.

In the grand old US and A...some stupid asshat will always leave the light on for your ass...then flog it.

Because I said so, motherfucker! I am a COMPASSIONATE conservative. I will treat your shortcomings and failures with COMPASSION. I have COMPASSION for you drunkards and derelicts and dopers, so you WILL attend rehab to have repetitive phrases and quasi-religion shoved down your throat. I have COMPASSION for you that would abort your own unborn children, because after all, it's not your body and therefore not up to to decide if and how you want to live with that on your conscience. I have COMPASSION for fags, never mind that hetero relationships are at an all-time low and getting worse every day. Marriage is between a man and a woman. God hates fags. I hereby order you to worship MY God, because MY God says that He will sentence you to damnation if you refuse. I order you to live MY way life and to believe in what I believe in. If you don't, I will beat your ass into submission--with the loving paddle of COMPASSION, of course. If you are not middle class, the correct color, and of the correct lineage, then I will whip your ass into shape. Because my COMPASSIONATE way is the RIGHT way, dammit.

Compassionate DEEZ NUTS.

What the fuck ever happened to live and let live, freedom of expression and speech, to each his own and the inalienable right to basically voice and believe in whatever the fuck you please, provided it's not infringing on others?

Fuck liberals. And fuck conservatives too.

Baseball rant

2010-02-07T03:46:00.000-08:00

4/8/08

I love baseball. It is not a flashyassed Nike sneaker saturated sport but, like other things worth getting to know, it demands a respect for its' nuances and intricacies plus a healthy allegiance for teams and players you enjoy rooting for.

I do in fact have my allegiances, which are as follows: If it ain't the Dodgers, A's and/or Red Sox, it can suck my choad.

LOS ANGELES DODGERS: Team terrific!!! Nestled in the Camelot of baseball parks in a dreamlike atmosphere. They call it Elysian Park for a reason. There are only four really magical baseball palaces left in existence: Yankee Stadium, Fenway, Wrigley and Dodger Stadium. Yankee Stadium is going to be replaced soon by a zillion-dollar jizzfest of an opulent affluent replica. The Bronx and the Bosox ballparks carry too many ancient ghouls and goblins to be really beloved. Wrigley is a shrine to baseball the way it oughta be...but the Cubs have a historical penchant for losing their asses off. Dodger Stadium is truly Camelot. Three World Series wins and four pennants within eight years of arrival on the West Coast ('59, '63, '65, '66). Three World Series appearances in the Seventies ('74, '77 and '78) only to lose to the dynastic Charlie Finley A's and the hated Yankees back to back. Two Series titles in the eighties (the only team to do so), one of them highlighted by one of the most improbable stunning moments in baseball history, the Gibson walkoff. This has all cemented the Dodger Blue claim to excellence and tradition despite only having one playoff win since 1988 and Fox fucking things up in the turbulent 90's. Only three teams have more World Series wins. Also they went over 40 years with only two managers in that span: Walter Alston and Tommy Lasorda. Despite what most numbnuts will tell you these days, continuity is a good thing.

OAKLAND ATHLETICS: Where do you start with these green and gold pimps of the East Bay? Their lineage traces back from Philadelphia to Kansas City, where interspersed with a couple of dynastic eras in the early 20th century, they fielded some pretty laughable sorry ass teams. The A's spent their relatively brief period in K.C. being a perennial second-division dweller and the Yankees' bitch (frequent trades with the Evil Empire in those day repeatedly had the New Yorkers getting the better end of the deal at the A's expense). But in 1968, flamboyant owner Charlie Finley moved his A's out west to a little town called Oakland, and baseball hasn't been the same since. The A's revolutionized the game with their bright colored green and gold uniforms and mustaches, both of which were frowned upon by baseball's conservative establishment. Finley didn't just run baseball team, he ran a circus, and the flying acrobats pulled off three straight World Series titles ('72, '73, '74). After a dormant period (as doormats), the A's revived again in the early 80's under Billy Martin ("Billy Ball"). They returned to dominance in the late 80's and early 90's, winning four division championships, three straight American League pennants and one World Series title (1989). Despite their status as a small-market team and their overdependence on the Moneyball concept, the A's have had a knack for plugging in young talent and continuing to win and compete despite losing hordes of star players.

BOSTON RED SOX: Old school franchise, old school tradition, old school fan base. I have to admit, though, a good portion of the reason I root for them to do well is because they are the anti-Yankees. And how can you not have some love for Oil Can Boyd? Luis Tiant? Mo Vaughn? Ellis Burks? I know Beantown isn't exactly easy on the brothas, but the Bosox bros they have had over the years have been among the most beloved Bosox. Just don't expect the Fenway faithful to stand en masse and yell: "I LOVE BLACK PEOPLE!", Whole Wheat Bread-style.

Hate with a deep deep passion:

SAN FRANCISCO GIANTS: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck the Giants. Everywhere I go up here in NoCal, I'm surrounded by hate when I'm wearing my Dodgers gear. It's envy and jealousy because SF is always trying to get what we've got--mainly World Series victories and acclaim--and failing miserably on most occasions, heartbreakingly and excruciatingly on a few select occasions. It's hate, alright. Mostly by Giants fans who have never witnessed a world championship in the Gay Bay and most likely never will.

CALIFORNIA ANGELS OF WHITEBREAD COUNTY: LA Angels my ass. There is only ONE team in LA, the Dodgers, thank you very much. Did these fools think that by choosing some goofy ass unorthodox sobriquet prefix that included the CITY of Angels, that I would start liking them? Ummm, no. Bet you Donnie Moore is on the Field of Dreams right now with his nappy ass head doing what he did best...serving up a gopher balls in critical clutch situations and blowing saves like a motherfucker.

NEW YORK YANKEES: Need I say more? God I despise these fuckers. They represent everything that is fucked up about baseball, sports, and this country in general. Fuckem. Need an iconic superstar with a ridiculously filthyass contract of lucre? George is your man. Need a Brinks' truck? Need Lloyd's of London? Secret account in the Caymans? Tax exempt cash cows? Here ya go.

Take back our dicks

2010-02-07T03:44:00.000-08:00

April 10, 2007

Sac State news:

Oooh, look. Another year, another Take Back the Night aimed at keeping those evil men away. Don't walk around campus at night or the evil male boogieman will jump out of the bushes and rape you. Make sure you eat a clove of garlic so no diabolical man with fangs will come near your stankbreath ass.

Men falsely accused of rape have their reputations destroyed in the wink of an eye. False allegations occur at an alarming rate. There is no justice for the false accusers.

When it's a man's word against a woman's in the court of law in the land of Uncle Pam, guess who usually wins? These are but a few of the reasons why I take 90 percent of what I hear come out of women's mouths with a grain of salt and about half of what I actually see them do.

I strongly urge that there be a Men's Resources Center immediately created at Sac State so that the dudes on campus tired of being viewed as a "potential rapist" and an evil man can take back their dicks and stop having the feminazis on campus shove them up their anuses. But sadly, I don't see it happening. After all, this younger generation is way too busy playing with their iPods and iPhones and shit to realize that they are going to hell in a handbasket unless they learn to stop letting the fuckin' facist feminazis run their lives to oblivion.

In other news, the Sacramento State elections for the (farcical) student government are underway. One of the stated goals for one of of the student-run parties is: Celebrate Diversity. I guess this is on the checklist to accomplish for next year as a priority. Not the fact that the president has turned this campus into a money machine at the expense of students who can barely make ends meet (if they can at all), not the fact that tuition keeps rising without any significant improvements in quality except building new shit on campus like neon green signs. Or the fact that the football and basketball teams perenially suck dick with shitass facilities being the major factor in why Sac State can't recruit worth a fuck. Do intercollegiate athletic performances and excellence (or lack thereof) have an impact on a college campus and those involved with it? You bet your ass.

Nope, the priority is to make sure we're being nice to the faggots. Let the budget go to shit, let the sports teams suck, let the place be a mausoleum of apathy, but for God's sake don't say anything unkind about the peterpuffers and carpet munchers. And let feminazism ring. Fuuuuuuuck.

shutting out

2010-02-07T03:36:00.000-08:00

"Better I can't get out than an asshole, getting in"--Grandpa, re: security home system.

We shut out people and we become shut out from the rest of the world.

We insulate ourselves from things we don't like to recall or things we want to forget about.

diversion.

Each night when I come home, I immerse myself in a world of MY choosing...

I am JaMarcus

2010-02-07T03:35:00.001-08:00

I am Nation as you are Nation as they are Nation and we are all Raiders
See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they quack.
I'm silver and black.

Sitting at the House of Thrills, waiting for the boys to take the field.
Corporation enemy, stupid bloody sunday.
Man, you been a naughty boy, you let your spikes grow long.
I am the Raiders, they are the Raiders.
I am JaMarcus, goo goo g'joob.

Mister league commissioner sitting
Pretty little policemen in a row.
See how they fly like lucy in the sky, see how they run.
I'm silver and black, i'm silver and black.
I'm silver and black, i'm silver and black.

Yellow matter flag why , dripping from a dead ref's eye.
Slobberknocker midwife, pornographic pigskin,
Boy, you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down.
I am the Raiders, they are the Raiders.
I am JaMarcus, goo goo g'joob.

Sitting at an Oakland tailgate waiting for the sun.
If the sun don't come, you get a tan
From standing in the Oakland rain.
I am the Raiders, they are the Raiders.
I am JaMarcus, goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob.

Expert textpert Fox network smokers,
Don't you think the Al laughs at you?
See how they smile like pigs in a sty,
See how they snied.
I'm silver and black.

Seminary neighborhood, climbing up the Tower of Power.
Black hole diehards singing Autumn Wind hour.
Man, you should have seen them kicking Jim Double O Otto.
I am the Raiders, they are the Raiders.
I am JaMarcus, goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob.
Goo goo g'joob g'goo goo g'joob g'goo.

Minions of Bitchdom

2010-02-07T03:34:00.001-08:00

4/14/08

Women cannot teach boys how to be men. Only men--true men--can teach boys to be men.

Not growler beeyotches with a plastic cock strap-on who think they can do it.

Not fakeass men who are bitchified.

These fakeasses are not men, they are spineless puppets and punks who are vaginal vermin. They've been dipped in Mommy's milk for waaaay too long and need to grow a pair. They talk a lot of hot air and a lot of shit, but in the end do not deliver the substance needed for growth. They are minions of bitchdom and need to be bitchslapped.

They need their asses kicked. They need to be slapped into reality. Reality demands that you have to kick ass to get results, not talk a bunch of motherfuckin bullshit. It's kick ass or get your ass kicked, folks. Either get on the train or move the fuck out of the way.

So all ya''lll bitches, say some shit. But you really, really, really need to check yourselves 'cause I'm tired of listnin' to you motherfuckers.

Giants’ next 40

2010-02-07T03:31:00.000-08:00

As a Dodgers fan, I am hereby giving my forecast for the next four decades on the state of baseball in the Bay Area, more specifically, that wonderfully inept juggernaut from San Francisco which has failed to ever win a title by the Bay. Will their colossal bad luck change anytime soon? Read on...

_______________________________________

Giants next 40

2008: The Giants lose 100 games for the first time since 1985.

2009: Still out of work, Barry Bonds finds employment by starring in a commercial which airs in the Bay Area for Outword magazine. In it, he sings the Cameo hit, "C'mon baby tell me what the word, a' word up" while prancing next to a bunch of scrawny male models in his Giants uniform. The commercial becomes a smash hit. Meanwhile, the Giants have another losing season.

2010: A mysterious huge clump of white matter appears on the outfield grass at Pac Bell Park in center field. Speculation at first has it to be a big mound of spooge, then seagull droppings. It is found to be a drippings of mayonnaise mixed with Coffee Mate. The perpetrators of this incident go unknown.

2011: Struggling for revenue, the Giants announce they are renaming their ballpark "The Frisco Disco." Inside will be the world's largest disco dance floor and clientele.

2012: Mark Bryant, controversial blog writer and Dodgers fan, makes waves for writing a sarcastic story following this year's "Until There's A Cure Day" at the ballpark by suggesting they hold "Until they stop dropping the soap Day."

2013: Struggling for revenue, the Giants announce they are putting up new statues of Elton John, KD Lang and Melissa Etheridge next to Willie Mays.

2014: The Giants, with the losing seasons piling up, announce their bankruptcy and move to Sausalito.

2017: Duane Reeder, leader of the Dirty Sanchezes band and longtime Giants fan, rides aboard the Giants float during the Pride parade wearing a bikini thong and balloon hat.

2020: Reeder announces he is running for mayor but loses to Rick Winistorfer, a Frisco native. Frisco fans, meanwhile, celebrate their first winning season in 16 years.

2022: The Giants finish exactly at .500 but lose the NL West by one game to the Arizona Diamondbacks, who tie the '05 Padres for the worst-ever record by a division champion.

2023: Flush from their recent "success", the Giants enter the '23 season with high hopes, but these are soon dashed by an abysmal season in which a new low for attendance is reached. Reeder is named the new manager and the Giants announce a new mascot known as the "Saualito Sausage." The Sausalito Sausage also becomes a ballpark menu item alongside the "SF Giant" hot dog.

2024: Reeder immediately begins his tenure by putting up Barry Bonds commemorative displays, which the team had done away with following his departure. The Giants lose their first eight games, then challenge the 1962 Mets modern record for futility before settling for 109 losses.

2025: Reeder is put away in a mental institution in the midst of a 21-game losing streak for SF. After the sixteenth consecutive loss, he is seen running through the corridors of the Sausalito ballpark in diapers. It is revealed that he is incontinent.

2029: The Cubs win the World Series, making the Giants the official longest-running World Series champion drought-stricken team in baseball.

2032: The memory of a fat man in diapers becomes too unpleasant even for the long-suffering Frisco faithful, so the Giants move to Santa Clara.

2033: Santa Clara evicts the Giants for non payment. The team then funds a new ballpark in the Castro district of San Francisco, where they are enormously popular.

2035: The Giants discover that their season ticket clientele fluctuates wildly, until they discover that it is as a result of their Castro faithful dropping like flies as a result of their alternative lifestyles. They then become the first team to provide meds at the ballpark concession stands, hence their new slogan: "Buy me some AZT and cracker jacks...I don't care if I never get back"

2037: The Giants win the NL for the first time in 34 years. This euphoria is tempered drastically when they are soundly beaten by the Oklahoma City Necks in the first round.

2039: The Castro is declared a quarantined area. The Giants give up and move back to Pac Bell.

2042: San Francisco is attacked by terrorists and declared a war zone by President Rod Gray. The city becomes a no-man's land where criminals, gangs, vagabonds, and homeless people abound. The Giants give up and move to Fresno.

2044: Mark Bryant stars in the flick, "Escape from San Francisco", in which he narrowly escapes the ruins of the city. A nation is disgusted by the filth of the city seen up close.

2048: San Francisco suffers a massive earthquake and the entire penninsula containing the city sinks into the Pacific Ocean. A huge brown cloud can be seen in the water where the city once was.

Message to Uncle Pam

2010-02-07T03:30:00.002-08:00

4/7/08

FUCK YOU

BITCH

rant 3/31/08

2010-02-07T03:30:00.001-08:00

3/31/08

The time has come to overthrow your ass. It is well past time to wean ourselves off your destructive whore milk of estrogen, banish you to the outlands and wastelands of history's chronicles of failed experiments and toppled reigns, and assassinate the Queen of Snatch, Slutism, Seduction and Secularism.

You ascended to the throne, borne out of our weakness for obsequiousness, promising good faith. However, you have acted in less than good faith. Your deceit, lies, blasphemy, godlessness and your less than stellar stewardship has been duly noted. Your services are no longer needed. Your services are no longer wanted. You are the weakest link. Goodbye, beeyatch.

You corrupted little boys and girls with your doctrine of hate. You enslaved and imprisoned men and women with your misguided misandric teachings. You crushed spirits, alienated millions, wrecked lives, and disillusioned countless others. You were merciless in your torture and force feeding us shame. You spread your filth, greed, materialism, sloth and welfare mentality across our once-proud nation. Simply put, you must go.

I am the avenger, the sword of truth, power and justice. I will challenge and fight you every step of the way to ensure your defeat. Though you will squirm in your trademark high-pitched whine and cackle, know this: You will not survive my onslaught. I come to bring my people home. I will battle you any place, any time to free my people from your tyrannic rule. Know this: You have already been defeated. It is just a matter of time. As we all see the truth and begin to realize the depths of your duplicity, you will be exposed and stand before us naked. It is already happening. Look around you.

rant 4/2/08

2010-02-07T03:28:00.000-08:00

4/2/08

If I am offending, rub the wrong way, chafe or otherwise piss you off, good. I ain't writing this for you. I am putting this on paper and the cyberscreen to reach those who feel like I do. This is a cathartic, therapeutic response to all my pent up frustration, anger and hate. I want you to see my anger. My seething, boiling cauldron.

I want you to glimpse the frightening level of my insanity and rage. It is what it is. I'm tired of sanitizing my sarcasm and biting my tongue. This is not pretty. This is not dressed up in Sunday clothes. This is the ugly, brutal truth.

10 years ago I was homeless

2010-02-07T03:27:00.000-08:00

4/2/08

"Just one...How would you like to be out there, on the run?" -Richard Bachman, The Running Man

10 years ago, I was homeless.

I lived on a temporary basis in the Salvation Army trailers in downtown Sacramento. I was under the guise of a double life: returning college student by day, displaced and disenfranchised vagabond by night.

Education is not totally absent among Vagrant Nation. It is estimated that half of the homeless population have at least a high school diploma. As the saying goes, however, "the world is full of educated derelicts."

Like many people who are or have faced homelessness, I am ex-military. Shortly after my discharge in January 1998, my life took a turn for the worse as is common among those who deal with sudden and permanent life changes.

It took me eight more years (and fighting off a host of arduous challenges and issues) to finally go back to school for good, stay there, and graduate and earn my degree. I remember only too well the excruciating pain of inadequacy and inferiority. I still remember the shameful feeling of failure, the loss of self-respect and dignity.

The homeless are systematically and knowingly manipulated, violated, ignored and abused by both the government and "normal" society. This is the most powerful, prosperous, affluent and wealthy nation on earth. This is the greatest country in the world. There is no goddamn reason for anyone here—let alone those who served this country to help keep it free and safe for democracy—to be homeless. There is no justifiable reason for anyone in the U.S. of A. to have to live in poverty without a pot to piss in and a window to throw it out of.

You can take my job, my house, my money, the clothes off my back, strip me of all materialistic accoutrements that deem me worthy in your eyes. Know what? I really don't give a fuck. My self-respect, dignity and validation as a human being and as a person is not for sale. I worked too hard to get it back. My soul isn't willingly being signed over to just anyone or anything. Not any longer.

I for one am not letting this milestone go unnoticed.

Seahawks diss

2010-02-07T03:24:00.000-08:00

One of my fellow coworkers was a big time Seattle Seahawks fan (such a breed exists?) and she relished in my Raiders' failures over the past several seasons. Thus, I was compelled to give her a mountain of shit as a going-away present:
________________________________

There is no such thing as a seahawk. A seahawk is a mythical bird that does not exist. The term "seahawk" is used as a slang term for ospreys, which are sea-dwelling birds whose diet almost exclusively consists of fish. The other closest animals that would resemble a "seahawk" would be seabirds: gulls, terns, auks, skimmers, albatrosses, pelicans. These sea dwelling birds' main function is to lead scavenging existences, punctuated by their tendency to emit copious amounts of excrement. "Seahawks" was the name given to the NFL team in Seattle that began play in 1976. The only Seattle Seahawk that is in the Hall of Fame entirely based on his performance with the franchise is Steve Largent. The only time the Seahawks made it to the AFC Championship Game was 1983, when they were whipped unmercifully by the Oakland (LA) Raiders. To wit:

1983 AFC Championship Game

Seahawks 0 0 7 7—14

Raiders 3 17 7 3—30

The Oakland (LA) Raiders have won three Super Bowls in five appearances; Seattle has made but one appearance and were beaten by Pittsburgh in Super Bowl XL, 21-10. The Seahawks have never won a Super Bowl; thus their franchise history pales in comparison to the superiority of the Raiders.

Bonds behind bars--MLB’s wet dream Part II

2010-02-06T02:25:00.000-08:00

A satirical journalist's work is never done...

________________________________________

Giants' new home will be Federal Prison Stadium

SF to play home games on prison grounds so that Bonds can compete

SAN FRANCISCO (AP)—The San Francisco Giants proved once again they will bend over backwards for Barry Bonds, even as a criminal.

The National League team announced they will play the remainder of their schedule in a retrofitted ballpark specially built at the city's federal prison baseball diamond. Bonds, who began serving his two-year sentence on Tuesday, will thus still be able to compete in the major leagues as an active ballplayer with the chance to pass Hank Aaron's all-time home run record.

The Giants also announced that pre-game warnings will be given to fans attending the games that anyone aiding and abetting Bonds in any attempt to escape will be shot on sight. Bonds will also be warned that he will be shot by federal marshals if he attempts in any way to escape. Signs will be posted throughout the stadium.

In an unprecedented move, inmates will be allowed to attend the games free of charge provided there are no conflicts with their chain-gang details. "This will really improve and increase our fan base," Giants owner Peter Magowan said.

Stadium food will consist of items from the prison chow hall in an attempt to cover costs. A promotional item, "Soap On a Rope" will be heavily marketed to the fans.

The site will be located in the prison's main recreational area.

Bonds behind bars--MLB’s wet dream

2010-02-06T02:19:00.000-08:00

In the 2007 season, as Barry Bonds was on his way to putting his asterisk in baseball's record books, the speculation centered on whether he would soon he swapping his Giants' orange and black for prison jumpsuit orange. Being the initiative-taking journalist that I am, I decided to create a possible scenario:

_____________________________________________

Bombshell hits Bonds and MLB

Slugger will serve two years in federal prison for obstruction of justice.

SAN FRANCISCO—Barry Bonds, the man on pace to break Hank Aaron's all time home run record this season, will have to wait a while—if he ever does get back into uniform. Currently, his uniform will be the black and white striped version.

A federal criminal court found Bonds guilty today of obstructing justice and false testimonies to a grand jury. The San Francisco Giants' outfielder was also found guilty of perjury. Bonds will now serve two years in San Francisco Federal Prison. According to the Giants, it is uncertain whether he will attempt a comeback once he is released in 2009. Bonds must serve the entire two year sentence before being released.

My alter ego

2010-02-06T02:17:00.000-08:00

3/30/08

We eat a lot of shit that is not good for us, especially processed, prepared and fast foods with a shitload of salt, sugar, butter, sodium, cholesterol that's fried and processed. Take those things out and not as many people will be making nightly pilgrimages to Mickey D's, Taco Bell, Bugger King, Wendy's, KFC. That's the shit that makes it taste good. It gets you hooked and makes your body sort of dependent on more and more of this crap.

In moderation, people.

By the same token, I introduce to you my alter ego, Big Dick James. He has basically the same experiences I have, but he's the one with the salty, sugary, buttery, sodium/cholesterol loaded, fried and processed taste bud orgiastic extraordinaire. He's the antidote to the quiet life of desperation and mental confinement of prison without walls. He's the back of my brain telling people to fuck a duck when it's the least protocol-wise thing to do. He's my extra-crispy niggerish side. Let's hear it for Big Dick James!!!

Do we really love our country?

2010-02-06T02:16:00.000-08:00

3/30/08

Do we really love our country? Do we take pride in the responsibility that goes hand in hand with enjoying unrivaled freedom and liberty, or do we simply just love the idea of doing whatever we think we can get away with?

Do we really live up to the phrase "God Bless America", or do we mock a higher power in an increasingly secularized America where God's teachings and principles are dismissed as irrelevant?

Do we love our ancestors, people and visionaries that came before us that helped shape this country into what it is, or do we merely cover up our past in revisionist history, warts and all?

Do we love our country enough to die for it, or do we take the easy way out and take those who defend our nation and way of life for granted?

Do we love ambition, a burning desire to get up each morning and make dreams come true with a work ethic, or are we lazy?

Do we love country's values of perseverance, ideals of self will and reliance, or do we sit and wait for handouts?

Do we love our country's promise of prosperity, wealth and power enough to protect it, or do we just love our things?

Do we love our independence, or are we dependent on our sick society's warped values?

Do we love the notion of capitalism, or do we love the strangling of corporatism?

Do we love our opulence, or do we love driving our shiny metal wagons past a street person overjoyed to not be in their shoes?

Do we love equality and justice, or do we hide behind the cloak of hate, bigotry and ignorance?

Do we love our country enough to do something about it, or do we blindingly love ourselves to oblivion?

SN&R 12/07: Raider Nation Rebuttal

2010-02-06T02:14:00.000-08:00

Sacramento News & Review did a feature on Raider Nation in Sacramento during the 2007 season. I thought it was all right, but that it didn't really do us (NATION) enough justice. So I had to strike back in the name of the Silver and Black. I kept waiting for this granola paper to print my rebuttal so maybe I could get some pub, but they never did. What's the matter, SN&R, no balls?

_________________________________________________

RE: "Fear of a Silver and Black Planet " 11/29/07:

As a lifelong Oakland Raiders fan, I feel compelled to address your amateurish but nonetheless (somewhat) even-handed portrayal of Raider Nation with three salient points:

One: Coker apparently lifted his whole story idea from Jim Miller and Kelly Mayhew's Better to Reign In Hell: Inside the Raiders Fan Empire, hence the copious quoting from the book itself. However, he omits the book's most poignant line in my opinion: "In an era that craves order and safety, Raider Nation offers chaos and fun. In the face of the new Puritanism, 'Just say no' and 'Watch what you say,' the Raider Nation says, 'Fuck you.' That in and of itself summaries the individualism and iconoclastic uniqueness that is synonymous with true Raider faithful.

Two: Despite Coker's claims to the contrary, Sacramento is largely a 49ers stronghold and has been ever since the Raiders moved downstate in 1982 to L.A. While the Niners fan base in Sacramento has shrunk markedly in recent years due to their fall from greatness, many fans turned from the silver and black to the red and gold as a knee-jerk reaction to the L.A. betrayal. Coincidentally, the Niners emerged as a championship team at the same time Al Davis turned his back on the Bay Area for greener pastures. As a city, Sacramento basically aspires to be a mini-San Francisco and shed any vestiges of blue-collar identity it did possess. Thus, the gentrification and increased corporate atmosphere. Not to mention the freak show at 20^th and K.

Three: While Raider Nation has a black eye (no pun intended) of bad reputation amongst its' members (who range from company executives to janitors), in reality the misbehavior of a few churlish louts at McAfee Coliseum is a minority. The media loves nothing better than to paint all with the same brush, and Raider fans are no exception. Personally, I don't feel the need to dress up as a pirate or a skeleton to get on TV, but to each his own. Coker also ends with quoting the property management consultant: "I wouldn't tell any my clients I'm a Raider fan." I'm no closet Raider fan , and I wear my allegiance on my sleeve whether others approve or not. That's the whole essence of bleeding Silver and Black.

Kabbalah/Whipped Cream

2010-02-06T02:12:00.000-08:00

Before I began to see my

KABBALAH THERAPIST,

I was a raging asshole.

BUT NOW I'M COMFORTABLE WITH THAT…

I just offer people a choice these days:

EITHER you get the asshole

with whipped cream and fresh fruit,

OR just the asshole.

THE DECISION IS YOURS…

Why We Like to Get Fucked Up

2010-02-06T02:11:00.000-08:00

4/14/08

Why do artists, musicians, writers and other creative folk tend to have substance abuse issues.

because they see the world differently than most others do. they can create pictures, images, realms, fantasies in their heads that are grandiose in nature. they use their imaginations to spin worlds of escape. the real world pales by comparison. real people are boring and unpleasant, crude and mundane. so we need something to spice it up a little.

we see the world in hi-definition and surround sound while others view it in simple, pragmatic black and white. we see the world in ultra-holographic images of painstaking detail and clarity while others see simple, banal stick figures. we spin, spawn, make, incarnate and create. we are observers, plot choreographers, storytellers, architects.

Honoring the Sukes

2010-02-06T02:09:00.000-08:00

Suki the Boltess almost was able to put me under her spell early in the 2008 season and have me root for her perpetually suckass baseball team, the San Diego Padres. When the Padres began the season disastrously, however, she demanded that I renounce my citizenship in Petco Nation. Too bad, because I was gearing up for trips to San Diego and treating the locals to my obnoxious noxious repertoire, Padre style:

"YOU MOTHERFUCKERS SUCK!"
"BLUE, WAKE THE FUCK UP!"
"OH FUCK YESSS!! That's what I'm talkin 'bout , baby!!! Nice stroke!!!"
"God fuckin' damn you, you motherfucker!! SHIT!!!"
"Oh fuck yeah, fuck yeah bitch!!! YEEEE!!!!"
"IT'S TREVOR TIME, BITCHES!!!"
"YEAHHHH!!! JUST ANOTHER PADRE VICTORY, MOTHERFUCKERS!!!"

Somehow, I just never saw us as a match.

Not giving a fuck.

2010-02-06T02:08:00.000-08:00

4/28/08

You hear all this shit these days about man-law, man-up, etc. It's like the pussification has gotten so thick we need fucking instruction guides on how to conduct ourselves? You can bet your ass our dads and granddads didn't get any written tutoring on this shit.

"How to be a man's man"

I like and do things that ARE considered man's man things.

I like and do some things that aren't.

I have learned to not let someone define for you who and what you are. If you need a fuckin book to fully extrapolate for you on how to get a life, then in my sweet humble opinion, you don't need the book, you need a fuckin' therapist.

Based on my experience, a man's man does whatever he wants, whenever he wants, within reason. And he doesn't give a fuck worrying about whether it's the right shade of manliness or not. If that isn't the definition, I don't know what is. And since I don't give a fuck, well then...

Notable Quotables

2010-02-06T02:05:00.000-08:00

This is a magic show and we are all involved. Everything is based on making something look like something else--Peter Gent, The Franchise

What's a body bag?...It's a big rubber bag. One size fits all....They're dark inside. Uncle Sam uses them for rubbers. You see some of them, you know he's been fooling around---Thomas Harris, Black Sunday

If you don't know who you are and you don't believe fully in yourself, others sense it, no matter how much you try to front it off--Nathan McCall, Makes Me Wanna Holler

The fucking you get is never worth the screwing you take--Richard Bachman, Roadwork
In any case I wear only two colors, black and gray. These colors are appropriate for any occasion, and they go well together...I find it liberating--Michael Crichton, Jurassic Park

If at first you don't succeed, piss 'em off even harder the next time--Mark Bryant

Screw the media, they're all working for the enemy anyway--Anonymous, Military.com cyberboard

Many people would rather die than think: in fact, most do--Bertrand Russell

Fair Warning: Fear the Tiger

2010-02-06T01:59:00.001-08:00

(WARNING AND DISCLAIMER): If profanity, excessive shock smack talking, tastelessness, explicit language, or other viewpoints and opinons which may be deemed offensive are not your cup of tea, then move on. Freedom of speech and the right to vent is strongly espoused here, as is my constitutional right to uphold views and opinions which may strongly disagree with others. In case you missed it in school, there is such a thing known as the First Amendment which protects us from censorship and thought-police intrusion, both of which are performed ritualistically by governments of fascism and communism. Last I checked, America was still a free country. Don't like it, roll on. For those who just want my published writing without all the chicanery and theatrics, go here: http://markb74.blogspot.com/

A Friendly Reminder: Fear the Tiger

2010-02-06T01:53:00.002-08:00

ANY UNAUTHORIZED COPYING, PLAGIARISM OR OTHER STEALING OF ANY WORK PROCURED HEREIN WITHOUT PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR OF THIS BLOG IS STRICTLY PRO-MOTHERFUCKING-HIBITED. I WILL EXERT ALL LEGAL OPPORTUNITIES IN TRACKING YOU DOWN AND SUING YOUR ASS. GOT IT?

BLOG READERS: READ THIS FIRST:

You MAY quote from here. You MAY link to material here. You may NOT reproduce this material in ANY form, copy, plagiarize, alter or otherwise steal any work herein, or use for profit WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. The exception is strictly for private or personal use. As holder of intellectual property rights and copyrighted material, I WILL take legal action against you should you fail to adhere to these terms.

Letter to Brigid

2010-02-06T01:53:00.001-08:00

"I am not so good at squelching my contempt and resentment for those who have cast me out, excluded me or given up on me. I wish I had that kind of forgiveness and forebearance. Maybe one day I will. When I go on rants, they are loud, visceral and served up nice and hot. Calculation is not one of my strong points sometimes. Maybe I should start eating more cookies n' cream ice cream and strawberries?....nahhhh."

Happy Birthday Heather

2010-02-06T01:49:00.000-08:00

This crazy ass girl was one of my childhood friends. SHE IS BOMB. Almond Hill School O.G.'s for life. This is adapted from some cheesy assed personalized kids' birthday recording from the late seventies/early eighties (?) I'm very inventive in my satirical approach, huh?

_______________________________________

4/14/08

Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We have Bud Light!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
Weeee have Bud Light!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We haaaave Bud Light!

Happy Birthday, Heath-er!!!
Your birthday is to-day! Hey!!!

Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We have strippers!!!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
Weeee have strippers!!!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We haaaave strippers!!!!!

Happy Birthday, Heath-er!!!
Your birthday is to-day! Hey!!!

Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We have bomb bud!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
Weeee have bomb bud!
Whadda we have at Heather's party?
We haaaave bomb bud!!

Happy Birthday, Heath-er!!!
Your birthday is to-day! Hey!!!

Rant 4/7/08

2010-02-06T01:19:00.000-08:00

For too long we've all bought into the ideology that the American way is the only way. We've fallen for the bullshit hook line and sinker that we are superior to everyone else on the planet. And now we're paying for it.

We've become a nation bankrupt socially, morally and spiritually.

It's not the plastic, masonry and polished wood that make up the foundation that is America. It's the human relationships and the undying spirit of freedom.

We are no longer free, however....because we are arrogant elitist motherfuckers that care about no one but ourselves.

It's not just the counterculture that has spoken about our widening disconnect. People all over are starting wake up and slowly realize what's really important.

People are not happy. People are not happy despite the 401k's, the home ownerships, the degrees in sheepskins hanging from the walls of those homes, the cars in the garage, the designerclothes, the oil sheik lifestyle we take as an entitlement.

No longer is it simply enough to just be content and happy. The monster has ratcheted everyone's expectations up to insanity in order to keep chasing an elusive dream.

And what is my dream? My dream is to find my place of solitude. Where it is expectation-free and consequently free of the additives and preservatives that make our lives more entertaining and in color but rob us of our souls and kill us.

Lose the expectations. Be simple.

Thoughts on the Air Farce, errr, Chair Force, errr, Air Force

2010-02-06T01:13:00.000-08:00

April 2008

I enjoyed my time in blue. Other than the excessive politically correct bullshit and chick-coddling that was and is more apparent in the AF than any other branch of the military, I view it as how things should be run in the military. Efficient, clean, classy, detailed, and cool. Not to mention the kickass food. Unfortunately, too much hell-raising, drinkin' and booty calls on my part caused my early dismissal. I wasn't helped by the fact that I was stuck with a butter-bar bitch lieutenant straight out of the Academy who was permanently on the rag. We had a, uh, personality conflict that basically greased the skids for my shitcanning. I felt like the dude on "Driving Miss Daisy".

Let me tell you about her tart, strawberry shortcake board stuck up her ass self: One week we had a base-wide field exercise in which we were all getting slammed with duties and details up the ass. Our office was getting calls from civilians nonstop sqwauking about their cattle and animals being spooked by the aircraft noise. During the busiest day in the afternoon, she said fuck it and announced she was going home, and straight took off. I know rank has its privileges, but goddam! I mean, this is like, a mission going on here? That little tidbit somehow never came to light during all the time she was dogging the shit out of me.

Fuck you, Miss Buttercup. Fuck you in your whipped cream apricot pudding ass, heifer.

Duaner’s DS’s

2010-02-06T01:07:00.000-08:00

Duane started a band after he was summarily washed out of baseball due to being a brokedick with little talent. Here I brushed up on my journalistic skills and decided to do the man a favor and give him some PR:

__________________________________________

Duaner's Dirty Sanchezes
Getting' Down N' DIRTY in S.F.

Recently, I had the dubious honor of catching up with the Dirty Sanchezes. It's no easy feat tracking them down, either. They all live in some hippie-ish creaking house in some hippie-ish Frisco district (which part of Frisco isn't?) When I pull up to the address their fearless leader gave me, I recognize it as some bungalow that's showing its' age hard. You get the feeling that a hell of a lot of counterculture aficionados have domiciled here at one time or another since the Decade of Peace and Love…the Sixties.

The fearless leader? When he pulls open the door at the top of the crumbling steps, I instantly know who he is. He's a squat body that's getting squatter and squatter. Protruding beer gut rapidly betraying him. Bald spot right in the center of his dome. Christ, it's fuckin' Homer Simpson. No, wait, it's Duane Reeder…former catcher for the Giants and now leader of this motley crew (no, not the band that put the Eighties to shame). He prefers to be called Duaner. But he's friendly just the same, and I follow him into the living room where instantly my nostrils are bombarded with a shitload of ganja, a shitload of hashish, and a shitload of incense. Needless to say, the incense ain't quite concealing the doobage so well. All the members of the DS's are lounging on couches and either toking or horseplaying.

Their music is nothing short of eclectic, if not downright strange—a mixture of ska/country/punk/new wave/white boy frat rap with of course a generous touch of indie rock. It's like eating chicken soup with beans. It will give you the runs from hell, but it's supposed to be cathartic, so hey, it's all good.

"We love to give each other…Dirty Sanchezes!" an animated Duaner is saying to me when he describes his band. "We rock it the Dirty Sanchez way because we love the vibe and we love our Giants!"

Ohhhhhhh-kay.

Duaner, of course, is the former Giants reject who lasted four seasons as a backup catcher. "Catcher", of course, has an altogether different connotation in Frisco, but I don't think it matters to him.

The horseplay gets more animated. "Dogpile!," shouts Duaner, and all the DS crew starts piling on one another right there on the rug, dry-humping each other like dogs in heat. You've got to be there to believe it. Is this gonna be Dirty Sanchez time with me being forced to watch? Evidently, they have minimal sense of decorum, however, and they slowly untangle after what seems like forever. Duaner emerges from the bottom with a smile plastered on his face a mile wide. Oooh-gah!!!

I Love Wikipedia--Dissing Duane Reeder

2010-02-06T01:03:00.000-08:00

So...we've got morbidly obese, Homer Simpsonian, looks 10 years older than he is...and a Frisco fan with obvious perverted tendencies. The word "tool" does not begin to describe this spaz. I enjoy busting this dude's chops on a regular basis.

Duane Reeder

Duane Reeder (born 1971) is a former catcher for the MLB San Francisco Giants.

Reeder joined the Giants for the 1993 season. He was primarily a backup behind Kirt Manwaring.

Reeder was known as a wide backstop with below-average speed. He remained with the Giants until the end of the 1996 season, when he was released. He joined the Oakland Athletics for spring training in 1997 as a nonroster invitee, but failed to make the roster.

Duane now has his own band, Duaner's Dirty Sanchezes.

Trivia
*On the last day of the 1993 season, Reeder filled in for an injured Manwaring. His clumsiness at concealing signals to the Giants' pitchers, mainly starter Salomon Torres, unwittingly tipped off the Los Angeles Dodgers lineup. Mike Piazza crushed two gigantic homeruns before a delirious Dodger Stadium crowd, and the Dodgers routed San Francisco 12-1 to end the Giants' playoff hopes despite a 103-win season. They finished one game behind Atlanta.

Bay Area Baseball Report 2006

2010-02-06T00:32:00.000-08:00

Bay Area Baseball Report 2006

Another season has arrived for Bay Area baseball fans. As usual, it promises to be full of excitement, controversy, and drama. Both the Oakland Athletics and San Francisco Giants figure to be in contention for the World Series this fall.

The two Northern California franchises have vastly different images, however. While the A's feature a young, talented squad, the Giants are a veteran, aging squad that needs to stay healthy to win.

Oakland, which survived a lousy start and narrowly missed out on winning the American League West division, will feature rock solid pitching. Barry Zito, Rich Harden, Danny Haren, Joe Blanton and newcomer Esteban Loaiza figure to be in the starting rotation. Huston Street is already a top closer.

The A's everyday lineup will feature Dodger castoff center fielder Milton Bradley, 3B Eric Chavez, and SS Bobby Crosby.

General manager Billy Beane once again will showcase his "Moneyball" brand of baseball, which emphasizes a statistical approach to the game rather than the traditional scouting methods. Consequently, the A's notably lack fleetness of foot on the bases and on defense, but typically show patience at the plate and good on-base percentages.

Since the A's lack the financial capital to land superstar "five-tool" players, this approach has helped them stay competitive for the past several seasons while developing an array of youthful talent.

San Francisco, meanwhile, while having enjoyed relative success the past several seasons, is still looking for that elusive World Series title by the Bay. The Giants will be led by Barry Bonds, who is on pace to become the all time homerun king with 48 more dingers. Going into the '06 season, he has 708 round-trippers.

Bonds has been busy this spring ducking the fallout from the Bay Area Laboratory Co-Operative (BALCO) scandal on the grounds that his personal trainer supplied him anabolic steroids as well as to a number of players in Major League Baseball. Bonds has repeatedly denied using steroids.

Recently, Game of Shadows, a book written by two San Francisco Chronicle reporters, has been published amid much fanfare. It alleges extensive use of performance-enhancing drugs by Bonds. He sued the authors, Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams, over use of grand jury documents and attempted to block the authors and publisher from profiting from the documents. A judge, however, denied his request, citing free-speech protections and that the lawsuit is unlikely to win in court.

As far as the on the field action goes, the Giants appear to be headed about as far as Bonds' aging body will carry them. Their 12-games-under-.500 finish is seen by most as an aberration because Bonds missed most of the year due to knee surgery.

Still, the Giants bullpen is downright suspect, the bench is virtually nonexistent, and the team seems held together by duct tape, which might make for a long, gloomy summer in The City. Here are the ages for the majority of the San Francisco lineup: Randy Winn (CF) 31, Omar Vizquel (SS) 38,Pedro Feliz (3B) 30, Bonds (LF) 41, Moises Alou (RF) 39, Ray Durham (2B) 34, Mike Matheny (C) 35. This does not include Steve Finley, 41 and Jose Vizcaino, 38, who both figure to see ample time coming off the bench.
PREDICTIONS

AL West

Oakland
Los Angeles
Texas
Seattle

NL West

San Diego
Los Angeles
San Francisco
Arizona
Colorado

Oakland Athletics
Established 1968*
World Series Winners: 1972, 1973, 1974, 1989
American League Champions: 1988, 1990

San Francisco Giants
Established 1958**
National League Champions: 1962, 1989, 2002

*Philadelphia (1901-54); Kansas City (1955-67)
**New York (1883-57)

K-Dub nicknames

2010-02-06T00:21:00.000-08:00

I've got about 150 different names for this cat. All in the spirit of jocose humor, of course. Others out there have a ton of names for me, however, and they are ALL bad...

___________________________

K-Dub
K-Dubalistic
K-Dubalisticness
K-Dubalisticness of Doobage
K-Dubiousness
K-Dubiousness of Doobage
K-Dub & The Dubalistics
KW
The Dubster
Dub
The Boy Who Played The Bench For The Oakland A's
Good Field No Hit
K-Dub Sheezy Off Tha Heezy
K-Deezy
K-Deezy For Sheezy
K-Doobius
K-Deezius
K-Deezy Eazy Neezy Sheezy
K-Deezy Eazy
K-Deezy E
K-Doobity Doobage
Kevin Otizian
Kevin Worteezian
K-Dubai
K-Doobius Noobius
K-Sheezy Heezy
Kevin The Funky Otizian
Kevin The Funky Homosapien
Worteezy
Worteezy For Neezy
Shot Calla For Tha VVH
Wortezzeese (Shot Caller)
Worteezian Funk
Worteezy Off Da Sheezy
K-Deezy 4 Neezy Sheezy
K-Sheezy
K-Doobage
K-Sloobage
Utility Playa
Scrubstop*
K-Swiss
First off the Bench (for a brouhaha)
Last off the Bench (for an at bat, esp. against lefties)
Dirty Home Uni
K-Neezy
K-Heezy
K-Sleezy

*K-Dub is/was not an infielder, due to his southpawness. This was duly noted and changed.

I Love Wikipedia--My Buddy Kevin

2010-02-06T00:16:00.000-08:00

Some more made-up-shit concocted and inspired by Wikipedia. I'm forever ribbing his ass about 1988, but he (mostly) takes it in stride.

_________________________________________

Kevin Wortell

Kevin Wortell (born 1968) is a former major league utility outfielder who played primarily for the Oakland Athletics.

Career

Wortell was drafted in 1986 by the A's shortly after graduation from Valley High School in Sacramento, California. He made his way quickly through the Oakland minor league system and made his major league debut on June 22, 1988 vs the Milwaukee Brewers. During his career in Oakland he was mainly relegated to backup status, although he regularly vied with Stan Javier, Luis Polonia and Eric Fox for playing time. Ultimately, he mostly saw action at all three outfield spots. He logged most of his time at center and left field.

Wortell was known throughout baseball circles as a classic "good field, no hit" player, though he made up for that with his trademark scrappy hustle and grit. His uniform was known to be always the dirtiest in the clubhouse after each game he played in.

During his seven-year stint with Oakland (1988-1994), he helped the A's win three consecutive American League pennants (1988-1990) and a World Series win in 1989. He spent his final two seasons with the New York Mets before retiring after the 1996 season.

Kevin is now an analyst for Fox Sports Net Bay Area and works A's broadcasts.

Trivia

*Wortell made the most of his limited playing time in the 1989 World Series by going 4-for-4 and driving in three runs over the four-game sweep.

*He was hitless in two at bats during the 1988 World Series.

*He made the second to last out in the 1988 World Series by grounding out to second as a pinch hitter. Dodgers pitcher Orel Hershiser then fanned Tony Phillips to end Game 5 and the Series, won by Los Angeles.

*During the early stages of his career with the A's, Wortell made a name for himself by becoming a DJ. Thus, he was placed in charge of all music in the Oakland clubhouse. He still runs his own DJ business today.

*During the offseason winter of 1989-90, he lived hippie-style out of a Volkswagen van with friends.

*In one game in May 1990, he (uncharacteristically) made two errors in a game against the Cleveland Indians. Teammates presented him with a new nickname: K-Swiss (as in glove made of Swiss cheese)

Kevin Wortell

Outfielder

Born: 1968

Batted: Left

Threw: Left

MLB Debut

June 22 1988 for the Oakland Athletics

Final Game

Sept. 29 1996 for the New York Mets

Career statistics

BA .254

OBP .368

Teams

Oakland Athletics (1998-94)

New York Mets (1995-96)

I Love Wikipedia--Me, the Dodgers’ Ace

2010-02-06T00:06:00.000-08:00

This just proves beyond all doubt that I have way too much time on my fuckin' hands. I got hooked on Wikipedia a few years back because it's one of the few things I can actually read on the internet during work hours. Basically, over time I came up with a few interesting bios. Behind a computer screen, I can be anyone and anything I want to be...not that I don't usually try to in real life.
____________________________________________________

Mark Bryant

Mark Bryant (born 5/15/1974) is a left-handed pitcher in Major League Baseball formerly of the Los Angeles Dodgers. Despite not breaking into the majors until age 30 as a late bloomer, he has become one of the National League's premier southpaw starting hurlers. He helped the Dodgers to the National League West division title in 2004. He recently signed with the Oakland Athletics as a free agent.

Beginnings

Bryant attended the United States Military Academy in West Point where he excelled as a pitcher as well as track and field and basketball. He only elected to try out for the baseball team after a drinking buddy suggested he might have success at pitching because of his long arms and wingspan. Despite becoming a promising hurler at West Point, he went through a self-described wilderness period where he claimed to have lived in railroad boxcars as a hobo and lived indigenously while traveling throughout the United States. During this time, he played on various semi-pro teams. He then showed up at a Dodgers tryout in 2003. With an impressive season at Triple-A Las Vegas in which he wowed management, Bryant was a nonroster invitee to spring training in 2004.

Bursting on the Scene

In April 2004, at the outset of a season in which they would ultimately win the NL West, the Dodgers turned to Bryant in the starting rotation when various others went down with injuries. He responded by becoming an immediate smash hit, including a no-hitter thrown at Shea Stadium against the New York Mets. His year ended with a dazzling 21-6 record and his first Cy Young Award. The Dodgers clinched their first division title in nine years on the penultimate day of the 2004 season. In 2005, Bryant followed that up by going 20-9 in his second season. In 2006, Bryant hit his first career home run in July against the Arizona Diamondbacks at Dodger Stadium. The Dodgers returned to the postseason as a wild card and Bryant had his third straight 20-win season at 22-8, winning his second Cy Young.

Bryant threw a one-hitter against the San Francisco Giants in April 2007. He went on to record his fourth consecutive 20-win season and All-Star appearance in a row at 23-12.

Leaving L.A.: Hello, Bay Area

After the 2007 season, Bryant became a free agent and the Dodgers declined to match the offer presented by his agent, Scott Boras. Bryant regarded that as unacceptable considering his rise from unknown prospect to stud anchor of the Dodgers' staff. He entertained an offer from Oakland and ultimately decided to sign with the A's, thus leaving the Dodgers for a young, rebuilding A's squad looking to reload after their first losing season since 1998. He will assume the role of ace for the Oakland staff while bringing credentials as a proven All-Star and Cy Young hurler.

After signing with Oakland just before the start of Spring Training in Phoenix, Arizona, Bryant said: "I'll always bleed Dodger Blue, but it's great to be an Oakland A," noting that he grew up watching the A's as a kid and they were his childhood team. He added: "I can't wait until I get to check out our fans in the Green Hole. We got some dedicated folks."

Style

With a tall, rangy build, Bryant is a classic power pitcher who also displays good control and command. He possesses a lethal curveball to go with his smothering fastball and also has wicked offspeed, breaking ball and changeup options in his arsenal. These strengths will serve him well in extending his career. He has been compared to Dock Ellis, Oil Can Boyd , Vida Blue and David Wells for his outspoken and sometimes outrageous demeanor, plus his prodigious appetite for nocturnal activity.

Personal

Lives in Sacramento, California where he plans to go into law enforcement when his career in baseball is over.
Bats right-handed, making him a rarity among southpaw throwers who also bat right-handed, including all-time steals leader Ricky Henderson.
Was disciplined on a regular basis while in college at West Point on account that while a great athlete who excelled in the classroom, he tended to be lackadaisical in his military duties and was known as a party animal. The restrictive atmosphere of the brass played a major part in his decision to leave for the greener pastures of baseball stardom. Among other things, he was confined to the barracks for a period of time for taking an officer's luxury parade sedan vehicle to go out drinking without permission.
Is friends with Kevin Wortell, former A's outfielder. Wortell, like Bryant, is from the Sacramento area. This sparked an intense debate between the two on just who had the skills. Wortell reportedly said "I faced (Roger) Clemens, (Frankie) Viola and (Jack) Morris and was on the same team with (Dave) Stewart and (Dennis) Eckersley. Your shit does not impress me." To which Bryant replied: "Playa—'scuse me, I mean EX-playa--please…Raise up like Exxon gas, fool" They agreed to "take it to the stage." They put on a mini-competition duel at the McAfee Coliseum in Oakland before a Dodgers-A's interleague game in 2006. Bryant proceeded to set Wortell down four straight times, all on three straight heaters. The A's, however, swept the series. "But I gave his ass the horse collar, and now he knows not to bring that weak shit against me on the hill," said Bryant.
Whenever the Giants visited Dodger Stadium, Bryant was known for leading the fans in "Giants Suck" chants from the dugout.

Mark Bryant

Pitcher

Born: 5/15/74

Bats: Right

Throws: Left

Nickname: The M Train

MLB Debut

April 2004

for the Los Angeles Dodgers

Team accomplishments

NL West Division champions 2004

Wild card winners 2006

Individual accomplishments

NL All Star: 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007

Cy Young Award: 2004, 2006

Win-loss: 86-35

Teams

Los Angeles Dodgers 2004-2007

Oakland Athetics 2008

Dad isms

2010-02-06T00:01:00.000-08:00

By no means a comprehensive or exhaustive list:

Boy I don't hear no mumbo jumbo outta you.

Now that ain't no way to run a railroad.

OK you slimy worms!

Boy, get up. It's time to roll 'em out.

Son, you're a day late and a dollar short.

Ready...down...hut one two three!

You wanna be an asshole for the rest of your life? Huh? Wanna be an asshole? Well you makin' a good start!!!

Son, you don't climb all the way up on a horse just to fuck him.

Boy, yo' ass better straighten up.

Mark...Mark. (used in extreme exasperation, which i seemed to excel at).

Goodbye, Bobby Thompson! Goodbye, John Wayne!

2010-02-05T23:48:00.000-08:00

Summer 2004

Jess Bryant
May 22, 1948--August 8, 2004

Dear Family, Friends, Co-Workers and Colleagues of my beloved Dad:

These past several weeks have been truly been a challenge, however, with your support and prayers I have managed to stand up and be the man my Dad would have wanted me to be during these very difficult times.

Dad, AKA, "Mr. B.L.M." (for the U.S. Bureau of Land Management where he spent his entire working career) was a very proud, super independent and stubborn person! Born in Marigold, Mississippi in a family headed by two wonderful parents and now, fifteen living brothers and sisters, he traveled light years from his humble roots to Oregon, Idaho, California, and back to Mississippi in his quest for a quality life.

He was the greatest Dad on earth. I fondly remember spending time with him playing basketball in the backyard and eating at various restaurants including Mr. Perry's diner and Skippers (where I was the Eating Machine contest winner). Dad always made time for me. He took me to baseball games and taught me the importance of good sportsmanship. He watched me being born at St. Vincent's Hospital in Portland, Oregon. He was the room monitor for my parent cooperative preschool. Out of all the people who could have served, I chose Dad as my sponsor for my first communion at Holy Spirit Catholic Church and he made many financial sacrifices by sending me to Jesuit High School. He was an active member of the Jesuit Booster Club even though my skills as a freshman football team member were questionable. He again sacrificed by supporting me when I attended Fresno State University and went into the military. He has always stood by me and, in spirit, he continues to surround me with his presence, blessing me and wanting nothing but the best for me.

I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you who helped me, supported me, respected my Dad's legacy and kept me grounded during this last month. Thank you for the flowers, condolences, food, notes and words of encouragement and sympathy. Your sentiments will never be forgotten. Thanks also for making my Dad's homegoing special. All of our ancestors who have gone before him now welcome him with open arms and laugh with delight as he tells his crazy jokes with that awesome smile!

Love,

Mark A. Bryant

"Louis, God Is!"

2010-02-05T23:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, it's time for me to break out the God thang...Four years later, it still carries as much meaning to me as when I first penned it...Some days I'm fired up...other days it's like (making wanking motion with fist). But still, it's there. It is what it is...

I do and say a lot of crazy shit...my stubborn and hardheaded nature won't allow me to bend to anyone's will...and that's just the way I like it. I like my individuality and my creativity and my ability to flaunt that shit. But there's a need to acknowledge and rise to something and someone way, way, bigger than myself and my concerns...

__________________________________________________

Summer 2004

by Mark Bryant

While enduring a very sad occasion of a loved one passing away, I happened to be riding in my uncle Louis' car one evening and noticed a message pop up on his compact disc player interface screen: "Louis, God Is!" At this time, yes, I was very disappointed in God for having taken away my father and forget the hurt I felt...I was angry that others had to feel this pain. This message, however, served to inspire me through this excruciating period in my life.

My uncle Louis and my dad had, shall I say, their differences. My dad had no qualms about informing people of his displeasure with them, usually in no uncertain terms. Although he made quite a few acquaintances through the years, he was content to keep to himself most of the time. He didn't care for the socialite routine. When he passed away, however, Louis took control of all details related to funeral and burial arrangements. Louis is known in our family as "Chairman of the Board." In other words, he gets things done and insists that those around him pull their weight in making sure that is carried out.

In the Deep South, large families are common. My dad had seventeen siblings. Things were not easy, the cushy lifestyle that many Americans of the post-World War II Baby Boomer age took for granted in their youth was unknown to him. He was raised with a strong work ethic and desire, which he carried with him all his life. He did his best to instill that in me as a youth; he never forgot where he came from. I am continually in awe of the sacrifices he made for me and the fact that I was educated in private schools, given the best possible education, and never wanted for a thing as a kid. All this a scant generation removed from his being made to suffer the indignities of "Jim Crow" in Mississippi in the 1950's and 60's. Dad left home at seventeen years old to find his way, and he ended up living beyond his dreams in a way he could not comprehend while he was growing up dirt poor. When I was seventeen, my biggest worries were whether I could keep my grades up to get into a decent college somewhere, whether my beloved Los Angeles Lakers could win the championship, and oh yes, girls.

We all were, and are, saddened deeply by the loss of my father, because for what he lacked in formal education and sophistication, he more than made up for in character, self-reliance and wisdom. Through his strength and guidance, he helped pave the way for me to enjoy things that were denied him--and to appreciate them. Why then, did God call him home after I began to make a soul-searching journey to find inner peace which I would then use to reconcile with him?

My childhood years were great. During this time, however, I had little or no concept of God other than the fire-and-brimstone variety that seeks to punish for every transgression, who strikes fear of retribution into hearts in order to scare one straight. My years immediately following high school were that of an unfulfilled, underachieving state. I rebelled against this authoritarian being who had the audacity to carry lessons to me that life is not always fair or just. I was lost desperately searched for a means to an end to escape this reality. My twenties were consequently filled with turmoil and turpitude at every turn. The more I rejected a spiritual, dedicated plan, the more pain and heartache seemed in store for me. I justified my missteps with excuses and pointed fingers. Finally, I realized that not only was I living in misery, but I had trapped myself within these walls and this was insanity. There was nowhere to go but up, and for me that was to accept God in my life regardless of my feelings about organized religion. For me, this was a spiritual rebirth and a feeling of love and joy I had not experienced in authenticity in years.

So, to me, God is working in my life. He has restored my dignity and self-respect, he has made people look at me differently, he has shown me that the way to a satisfying life is to follow His direction and carry out His plan. He has walked me through some very difficult times now, and for that I am eternally grateful.

God is showing me the benefits of serving Him. Uncle Louis is very enthusiastic about his service and commitment to God. Through my renewed faith, I can sense a feeling of belonging that no human institution could have given me.

God is rewarding and patient to His people. He provides direction and gives guidance to all those who seek him. He turns no one away. He forgives us when we fall short of living up to His glory; he does not condemn.

God is instilling in me a sense of duty and responsibility to be the best man I can be. To love and serve others. To carry on what my father taught me. To do what my father would want me to do and live up to his proud legacy. To be a Christian man of principle, thought and action. To always hold my head up high and as my father would say "put some life in those hands"--shake hands like I mean it when meeting people in my encounters.

God is magnanimous in that he allowed me to see my father one last time and allowed him to see for himself the stronger person I had become, that I uphold my faith and values with conviction, not to be compromised. He enabled me to stand before my father as a new person, unwavering in my commitment to my faith.

Yes, to me, God is all these things and more is yet to come. I am still human and I still make mistakes, but I can now say that I have come home. Even this sad occasion of losing a loved one will not shake my faith, because to me, God is.

Dad, Is He Out?

2010-02-05T23:36:00.000-08:00

Dad once became involved in the Big Brothers/Big Sisters organization, and so became a mentor of a kid that came from a broken home or somesuch. His job was to make sure the kid got out once in a while to enjoy life. I don't know the details, but I'm fairly sure that was in short commodity for him.

So one afternoon we went to the park to play pickup baseball with a tennis ball. Dad pitched and we took turns batting. Pretty soon, it was the kid's turn, and he starts raking. I have to admit, he was kind of a semi-talented athlete even though he didn't look like it. Now I'm getting pissed off because I'm chasing the flies he's hitting to no end. Being the supercompetitive nine-year old I was, I'm trying desperately to make a play. So the kid hits a towering fly ball and I chase it...again. Like I said, I'm trying to make a play. I end up smashing into a tree trunk and being knocked silly just as I grasp the ball with my Reggie Jackson mitt. A lump instantly rises on my noggin and I'm knocked silly with the accompanying hurt moans that can only come from a kid. Dazed, lying in the grass, there's a situation of a little bit of importance:

"Dad, is he out?"

Bushrod Park ’81 (Daddy)

2010-02-05T23:35:00.000-08:00

We went to Bushrod Park in Oakland during the holidays to go throw the pigskin around. It was too wet on the grass, so me and Daddy played on the playground blacktop. I'm out there running around, diving on the ground for the ball and all that. I skinned and scratched myself up a little bit...but I didn't give a shit. First of all, when I played, I PLAYED. It didn't matter whether it was on grass, dirt, mud, or concrete. Still doesn't today. Another thing was that I had on my brand new (Sears-bought) Raiders jersey number 7, courtesy of Santa. Yeah, it was sorry-ass Dan Pastorini, but I didn't care. Kids don't care about things like that...as far as I was concerned, it was MY number.

Daddy: Football (1982)

2010-02-05T23:31:00.000-08:00

It was while on vacation in San Diego this summer that I first flirted with the idea of becoming a southpaw, but then again I don't recall it that well.

What I do recall was that the sandy white beaches down there are a kid's paradise, perfect for running and sprinting like an Energizer bunny, as only an eight-year-old kid can do. We stayed at Dad's friend's place while we were down there and played catch in his front yard, tossing around the pigskin. Back then, I was always dragging Daddy outside to play something, or at least trying my damnedest to.

"You wanna play football? I'll be the Chargers. Who do you wanna be?" Bouncing up and down, back and forth with the persistent, annoying energy of a kid. "Who do you wanna be, Dad? C'mon. Who do you wanna be?"

"Ummm....I'll be the L.A. Rams, OK?"

"OK...Kickoff!" Bouncing up and down...I think me and my daddy both knew, and I basically reinforced for him, that you can either be this or that, but you have to be something...

Suki at 50: A Tribute to "Da Boltess" (2005)

2010-02-05T23:09:00.000-08:00

The (un)authorized DEBBIE biography celebrating her old ass birthday from 2005!!! The slimmed down version...
____________________________________

Vital Statistics--
Born: Somewhere on the East Coast in upstate NY
Full Given Name: DEBORAH JANE
Marital Status: Just like Texas weather. It changes every five minutes.
Current Residence: Santa Nella Valley, CA (the armpit of the state, the unglamorous area of Cali you never hear about, the area not on the tourist guides where the migrants roam)
Hometown: San Diego
Nemeses: Bryant_MB (Raiderfan), Shalen (Ramfan and proponent of Bolts-to-LA movement), KP (crusty bitter old man)
Allies: Dan Dolphin (love interest from Miami), Luigiil (fellow NL West bottom feeder--Rockiesfan)
Nicknames: Sukihawk, Sassy Sukimelt, Sexy Sukimelt, Deb, Debbitha, Debbitcha, Debya, Bitch, Bitchess, Princess, Uki, Uki Uke
Favorite NFL Teams: San Diego Chargers, Seattle Seahawks, Denver Broncos
Favorite MLB Team: San Diego Padres
Favorite NHL Team: San Jose Sharks
Favorite NBA Players: Bill Walton, Luke Walton
Least favorite NFL Team: Oakland Raiders

Quotes:
"To know me is to love me" (No kidding. To paraphrase the 'Mary Jane' song by Rick James, Suki spreads her love around like a mofo.)
"Fuck you. Eat shit" (usually in retort to a Raiderfan comment on how bad the Chargers suck.)

Future goals: To disembowel Camilla Parker-Bowles
Greatest fear: That grandson Michael will grow up to be a Raiderfan.

TIMELINE:

1955
March 11--At precisely on this date, Suki is hatched, birthed, created, regurgitated, reincarnated, or shitted out (depends on your interpretation) into this cold cruel world. As such a holy terror, even her bio folks don't want nothin' to do with this hellion. She is taken in by a family of SDites and moves at a young age to SD.

1960
Summer--Suki gets into her first game of "you show me yours and I'll show you mine" with the boy next door. Upon hearing the boy query: "Why'd you break yours off?" Suki wails and runs home to mommy, who proceeds to teach her all about da birds n' bees.

Late 1960s
Suki begins her stretch of puberty and becomes reknowned at this time for having the biggest knockers in school.

1969
Fall--Suki enters Helix High School (9th Grade) and gains QUITE a bit of a following...(heh heh)

1971
...but it isn't until right around her Sophomore year that she is able to discard her cherry (while at the drive-in for "Midnight Cowboy" no less)

1973
Suki turns 18, graduates HS, and proceeds to marry first of many jackasses.

1975
Suki decides to become a GI Jane, be all that she can be, and get an edge on life in the Army. She enlists just before the official Vietnam era for veterans passes, earning her yet another distinction.

1976
While doing the nasty in The Black Forest in Germany during a bivouac, somehow SolPlyr's egg makes it up Suki's tract to the finish line. This leads to Will Gotterungdang (aka SolPlyr) coming out the box 9 months later

1977
Bill Walton, Suki's neighborhood/high school crush, leads the Portland Trail Blazers to the NBA championship.

1978
Another of Suki's offspring, Jennifer, is created.

Somewhere in the 80s:

Suki leaves active duty and joins the National Guard
Suki moves to the Bay Area and (sort of) attends Los Medanos College, where she spends most of her time in the student quad area smoking pot.
Suki somehow gets wind of Jackass number infinity cheating on her and she flies home like a bat to confront him. He begs her to take off her holster before flaming him.

1984
Suki dons her "Mow Down Motown" T-shirt in celebration of the once-inept Padres making their first-ever World Series appearance, but the Detroit Tigers defeat them easily in five games, highlighted by Kirk Gibson's monster dinger off Goose Gossage in the finale.

Sometime in the mid 80s:

Suki moves to Colorado, where she is stationed at Fort Collins. She becomes a Bronco fan.

1985
At Mile High Stadium, Suki is inattendance at a crucial AFC West showdown between the Raiders and Broncos. Donko Jesus-in-cleats (Elway) is sacked and he fumbles in overtime deep in Denver territory, paving the way for a Raider game-winning field goal. Suki freezes her ass off both at the stadium and on her way home (since her car has no heater and it's the dead of winter.) This important win helps the Raiders eventually win the division at 12-4 while Denver sits home at 11-5 (best record of team in 16 game schedule era to not make playoffs.)

Rest of the 80s

More marriages and breakups to more jackasses to follow

Late 80s/early 90s

Suki moves up to Cobain City, where she develops an affinity for the Seattle Seahoz (errr, Seahawks.) As manager for a "well respected hotel chain" (her words--no Motel 6) she is lodging authority for the Seahawk training camp.

One year, as appreciation for all she's done for the 'Hawks (hehehehehe), they get Suki drunk.

1991
Dan McGwire, Mark's "little brother" (he's six-eight) fails to win the starting job as QB of Seahawks, much to the consternation of Suki. Two years later, it becomes Mirer or bust for the 'Hawks. Ultimately, it's bust for the poor Cobainites.

1994
Chargers face the mighty 49ers in the Super Bowl and not surprisingly San Francisco is favored by 10,000 points. The Niners score 240 points in the first three minutes and cruise to an easy 12,456-14 win (actually it's 49-26, but you get the point...it gets fugly real fast.) Suki gets drunk.

1998
The Chargers and Colts both tie for the number one pick in the entire NFL draft. San Diego selects Ryan Leaf of Washington State and pays a king's ransom to get their man. They immediately anoint him the next Hadl/Fouts/Humphries, etc. This ultimately sets back the Charger franchise 500 years. Meanwhile, the Colts select Peyton Manning, who proceeds to become the next Dan Marino.
The Padres, who finished last in the NL West in '97, pull a worst-to-first and win only their third divisional title in team history. Rumors that the team will relocate to Northern Virginia thus are quelled.
In the playoffs, the Swinging Friars ambush heavily favored Houston (who had picked up Randy Johnson at the trade deadline) and heavily favored Atlanta (they take a 3-0 lead on the Braves in the NLCS and eventually win in six) to head to their first Fall Classic in 14 years.
The Padres are then brought back to earth and swept by the mighty Yankees. Suki gets drunk.
Leaf proves to be a complete dumbshit both on and off the field for the Chargers, who remain at the bottom of the barrel. Suki renounces any ties to her "son" and disowns him in subsequent years. The scrapbook on Leaf for this year includes screaming at reporters infantilely, inefficient play and dismal on-field performances, and a celebrated incident in which he gets kicked out of two watering holes and a 7-11 in a drunken bye-week trip back to Pullman in eastern Washington, his college hometown. Suki is disgusted.

1999
Leaf still sucks and is not welcome in Suki's abode. In a complete unsurprising development, the team catches him in a lie when he says he's working hard on his game, but playing golf instead. He is also discovered playing pickup touch football when he says he is injured. The Chargers begin plotting ways to get rid of his sorry ass, even though his huge contract is a proverbial albatross-slash-millstone.

2000
Spring: Suki stumbles onto the CBS Sports Line Board, an internet message board for hardcore sports fans, and assumes the handle "Suki 1". She meets a hardcore diehard Raiderfan named Bryant_MB. It is the start of a beeee-yooootiful relationship.
Suki quits smoking, but MB takes up the slack for her.
Suki and MB lock heads over MB's refusal to immediately don a Broncos T-shirt and take a picture following a close defeat suffered by Oakland vs. Denver on a Monday Night game (It was a bet). Suki then threatens to have uttered her final words to MB and never speak to him again, ranting: "Bryant only cares about Bryant".

2001
Early '01: MB finally fulfills his portion of the bet and Suki stops being a bitch about it.

2002
MB outs Suki as Ryan Leaf's mom in a skit he writes on the Fans' Sports Board (Jerry Springer Show). This is not well received by Suki, to say the least.
After a gloriously underachieving career that includes stops in San Diego (colossal bust), Tampa Bay (cut in preseason), Dallas (where he ends up after the season's underway), Ryan Leaf walks out of the Seahawks training camp and hangs up his cleats. His legacy is that of an irrepressible shithead who nontheless accomplished a few things of note: robbing the Chargers blind, proving that babies shouldn't play in the NFL until they at least stop pissing their diapers or get on Ritalin, and providing textbook examples of what a overhyped, overrated first round pick should NOT do.
For the Raiders clinching their third straight Western Division title, Suki must pay off a bet by wearing all Raiders garb and holding up a sign that says "I Love The Raiders!" and snapping a photo of it. This is received with great glee in Raider Nation.
Shortly thereafter, MB is banned from the FSB for the 896th time.
Shalen starts his "Chargers back to LA movement" which infuriates Suki.

2004
Suki marries for the 13,283th time, setting a Western Hemisphere record for white women (some royal chick in England owns the world record.)
Suki switches from Judaism to Wiccanism, the latest religion conversion in her 49 years on the planet.

2005
To be continued...HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUKI!

More Kings--Hidden Agenda

2010-02-05T22:51:00.000-08:00

Didn't make it to the final cut of Master Report, but once again I'm raising the provocative tough questions that a lot of people won't put out there...

_____________________________

Hidden Agenda?

By Mark Bryant
The Kings NBA franchise has gained an impressive, unprecedented following among sports fans in Sacramento for two decades now. The fan base is renowned for being peerless in the areas of fanaticism and support. Once a perennial loser mired in mediocrity and bad luck, the Kings rise to contender status has intensified the devotion of Arco Arena's cheering throngs. It's a love affair that has been ongoing since Gregg Lukenbill brought them west from Kansas City in 1985.

Yet, in the midst of all this euphoria here in the City that Sleeps Promptly After Quitting Time Downtown, there may be a caveat attached. The Kings, as much as they strive to paint themselves as the league's ultimate fan-friendly franchise with loads of family fun, may have a hidden agenda in terms of acquiring players.

It seems that the Kings organization seeks a certain mix among its roster to placate the season ticketholders. While Sacramento is fairly diverse within the city limits, the fans who plunk down the cash for season tickets tend to come from outlying areas such as Placer and El Dorado counties, Elk Grove and Davis. These areas are mostly rural, white and relatively affluent; consequently, there are few African-Americans that line the coffers of the Kings box office.

The Kings have never been known as an organization with an abundance of black players heavily promoted as superstars. Marginal white players such as Joe Kleine, Jim Les and Bobby Hurley have historically tended idolized as fan favorites in this area. The European invasion in the NBA over the last decade has proven to be a boon for the Kings' fortunes. Peja Stojakovic and Vlade Divac have been among the European imports who have helped the Kings gain rise to prominence over the last few seasons.

It is obvious that a controversial black superstar such as Allen Iverson will never be welcome here, and fans buzzed over the addition of Bonzi Wells , who to this point has been an underachieving player with a history of insubordination.

Chris Webber's alleged transgressions while at other stops in his career were relatively mild compared to most other high-profile players who find their way onto a police blotter, but his sins were a public debate here for quite some time. Of course, that was a mere whisper compared to when he howled in protest over getting traded here, then criticized the area for its lack of acceptable African-American cuisine—"soul food." You'd have thought he tried to blow up the Capitol or something.

You won't find anyone in the Kings front office or directly employed by the team who will publicly endorse the tactics of deliberate selection of warm, fuzzy, scrappy feel-good (white) players over perceived black troublemakers and thugs for obvious public relations reasons. From a business perspective, however, it makes perfect sense as to why the Kings seek a certain apple cheeked personality rather than a player with a sinister hip-hop image.

Dave Smith, a Kings fan and state worker, says the agenda lies in tailoring the product to what the typical arena-going fan here will most identify with. "The ticketholders and fans who go to the games regularly are higher up on the economic scale and thus are the higher wage earners," says Smith, who is white. "You won't find much diversity among a fan base that comes from places other than Oak Park and south Sacramento."

It is certainly not cheap to attend a Kings game at Arco Arena these days. "My wallet's out at least a couple hundred bucks every time I go (to Arco)," Smith says. "By the time I pay for tickets, parking and food, it gets pretty expensive."

Myron Terrell, who is African-American and also a state worker, echoes the sentiment that the Kings are simply fitting the product to the demographics and clientele. "Anytime you have a city that is not known for being a huge melting pot, you have to have a product which fans will be comfortable with.

"You put a team with this type of makeup in Philadelphia, and fans wouldn't take to it. You put it in L.A., and it wouldn't work. You put it in Utah, it probably would. Sacramento is a white, conservative city with a small-town feeling, and that's reflected in what's on the court."

The architect behind most of the Kings success in recent years has been general manager Geoff Petrie. He is one of the most successful front office men in the NBA with an eagle eye for talent and a knack for pulling off great trades for the Kings.

Thus, the reason for Sacramento's success in recent years may have more to do with the philosophy of play they have embraced.

"(Petrie) loves multiskilled players—passers, shooters, technically sound guys," Smith says. "A lot of the players with those kinds of skills come from Europe. They're more fundamentally sound over there. Here, the emphasis is more on being physical and athleticism."

It falls right in line with the goals of the Maloof family, which bought the Kings six years ago and coincided with the upward trend, according to Smith.

"The Maloofs are not really basketball people," Smith says. "They're about entertainment and family fun. They're going to appeal to the fan base and conduct their marketing right along with that."

It's all fun and games and profit for the Kings and their fans. It's all in the name of extreme partisanship born out of blissful frenzy and a hunger for pro sports identity. Yet in the quest for something to call our own, there is a growing cloud of exclusion.

In the Land of the Enemy

2010-02-05T22:48:00.000-08:00

Fall 2004

Love and basketball, love and war. All is fair in both. In my book, fair enough. I love the game of basketball, and to me the game is sacred. It is a game of ebb and flow, of maximum energy and athleticism, but cannot be mastered without a considerable amount of mental cohesion and intangibles.

I am a Los Angeles Lakers fan. No, not the kind of bandwagon fan that has little knowledge of the franchise's history preceding the three-peat Shaq/Kobe dynasty.

I know that without then-coach Jack McKinney falling off his bike early in Magic Johnson's rookie season and without Magic pulling strings to get succeeding coach Paul Westhead canned to bring in Pat Riley, the glory days of the 1980s might have had a much different landscape. I also know that in the mid-70's, the Lakers bamboozled the then-struggling New Orleans Jazz into accepting a trade which included great-but-aging Gail Goodrich for future draft picks. Which is basically how a scintillating, radiant magician guard from Michigan State became Lakers property in 1979. I also know who Mark Landsberger is.

The NBA's greatest days were in the Eighties, and the Lakers were the dynasty that ruled the league during that decade. The best playmaker in history, Magic, combined with the greatest (ageless) big man in history combined with the motivation seminar leader's dream, Riley, to finally propel LA past Boston as the NBA's most preeminent flagship franchise.

In other words, it was a hell of a lot of fun growing up during those days.

Oh yes, I adored Larry Bird (blue collar ass-kicker and green machine legend), Charles Barkley (mouth extraordinaire), Dr. J (valiant Sir Galahad of street-ball realm).

But the Lakers, see, were the transom that held the door to basketball fandom open and accessible, as far as I was concerned. They were the New York Yankees of basketball, and their purple and gold trappings, their celebrity fandom (Jack Nicholson, Dyan Cannon), the Fabulous Forum, and the Laker Girls (yes!!!!) signified to me pure royalty.

However, my fandom is put on trial every day in the ultimate sports fan's crucible. Let me explain why.

What makes this an innocuous allegiance is that I live in Sacramento.

Indeed--the whole of Northern California--does not like or respect anything affiliated with Southern California. The political spectrum, the water issues and territorial differences divide this state like a folded map. Hence, the Lakers are despised and hated.

Sacramento fans have a pathological hatred for anything Laker-related, and looking at recent history, it's easy to see why. The Lakers have been the one roadblock separating the Kings from greatness.

In 2000, the Kings stretched the Lakers to a decisive fifth game in the first round of the Western Conference playoff. LA won easily to eliminate Sacramento. In 2001, the Lakers swept the Kings in four games in the conference semifinals enroute to a second straight title. In 2002, the celebrated knock-down drag-out fight of the conference finals ensued with the Lakers winning in overtime in Game Seven to deny the Kings what would have almost certainly been a Finals win. Instead, the Lakers got to feast on underdog New Jersey for their third straight title.

Kings fans chose to ignore the fact that the team had several opportunities to unseat LA in that epic contest and failed. Most notably, poor free throw shooting and shot selection down the stretch did them in. Instead, Kings fans railed loudly that LA benefited from their supposed privileged status as one of the NBA's big market glamour teams, and therefore the referees and NBA officials would simply not allow them to be beaten. They pointed at the Kobe Bryant elbow given to Mike Bibby at the end of Game 6 and the wailing was as intense as any sour grapes ever vented in the aftermath of a crushing defeat. Ralph Nader was even summoned to imply that the Lakers did not earn the championship, but were given it by the powers-that-be.

Today, Kings fans' hatred for all things Laker burns as hot as ever. Though the intensity has cooled in the last two years since that bitter loss, it is not uncommon to see on bumper stickers around town depicting a Calvin & Hobbes cartoon style fan in a Kings hat urinating on the Lakers logo.

How, then, in the name of Reggie Theus did I become a willinng participant in Kings Nation?

This can only be explained by the fact that my job at Arco Arena dictates so. This fall, needing a job and looking to fill my idle hours with something meaningful, I went to work at Arco Arena, home of the Kings. An infiltrator in enemy camp.

September, 2004

Three weeks prior, I happen to look in a job newsletter and see that Arco is holding walk-in interviews for concessions. I fold the paper, make a note in my planner--any job will do at this point, any port in a storm--and pay it no mind.

September 23, 2004

Job hunting sucks ass. You gets the feeling you are a whore, spreading your legs for a john (job) for the money, whether you're in the mood or not. Grim as it seems, the alternative is having no money at all, unable to meet your basic needs.

I really don't fit the all-encompassing Generation X rationalization "slacker", but there has been a growing undertone in my psyche in recent years that suggests I have not found my station in life, nor have I escaped the chronic underachiever stage where I really don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Of course, much of this problem is that I really haven't grown up yet.

We as Gen Xers are accustomed to settling for things that our parents would never have been caught dead doing---moving back home, for example. Working shitty jobs that barely provide a living wage may be good for the soul, but when you have a background and pedigree that suggests otherwise...that dog, sir, simply don't hunt. Most of us are spectacularly underrated activists and agents for change, which Boomers conveniently ignore; hence the "slacker" image.

Most of us will marry later in life, if at all. We saw our parents' divorce rates skyrocket and decided we wanted no part of the traditional nuclear family. Our sex and dating lives are tailor-made for our cynical, jaded selves--transitory, instant gratifying, and superficial.

Settling for mediocrity and quiet desperation seems to be our norm, but if there is anything to be taken from our legacy, it's fitting that we are the first generation in American history that has not gone through life by the numbers: graduate from college here, marriage here, first house here, kids grow up here, retirement here, death here. And here I am, thirty years old and to paraphrase a line from Pink Floyd: I missed the starting gun.

The Kings current home, Arco, is the third oldest arena in the league at the beginning of the 2004-05 season. Built in 1988, it is still serviceable and accessible, but not a money-maker. That's something the Maloof brothers, who won the team, are doing their best to change by trying to build an arena downtown, preferably with city and taxpayer money.

Heading north on Interstate 5, it is easily accessible, but the simplicity of the location and the building's design make it easy to see why rumblings are being made about the Kings needing a new home. It is a pleasant, modern structure, but a workmanlike one with few frills.

The ad said between 2 and 7 in the afternoon. I had an interview earlier today that I'm coming from, so I mosey in sometime about 2:30. There's a line, but it doesn't stretch too long. I'm still in my shirt and tie from the interview, and I immediately feel overqualified. I sit down at the long desk outside the security kiosk and begin to fill out a mundane application in which I state my vital stats, previous employers, references and so forth. I turn this in and am ushered to a back room where a group of people are sitting in chairs. Most of them are a wide cross section of society. Some have seen better days. After all, it takes little inherent skill to be a soda jerk for a congregation of rabid sports fans. Many are senior citizens on fixed income, many are black and low-income.

After a short interview and another foray through a line of paperwork, I can now officially say that I work for the Kings.

My mom reminds me that life works in mysterious ways, then urges me to take all my Lakers paraphernalia and distance myself from it as much as possible., I'm not going to go that far. Yet I understand the importance of keeping my true identity hidden. Job politics being what they are, I could very well be sent packing for committing the faux pas of revealing my Lakers allegiance in the eyes of Kings Nation. I have lost more than one job for committing similar offenses of uttering the just the wrong thing that got back to the wrong ear. Only this time the stakes are that much higher, because it won't be just a supervisor shitcanning me; I'll also have to deal with 15,000 crazed Kings fans on my ass.

Now I'm undercover. I am now a Lakers fan getting a Kings paycheck and the Kings are, for now, my employers.

Let the infiltration begin.

September 24, 2004

I've worked out a rationalization already. "Fuck the Kings unless it's on the first and fifteenth. Then I love 'em, 'cause it's when they're paying me," I tell my friend Karen, who takes this moment to announce she is a Kings fan, and proceeds to shower the Lakers with expletives, namely a repetitive phrase directed therein that leaves little to the imagination.

September 25, 2004

I have a confession to make. I really can't stand the Kings, also known as the Queens by us Lakers brethren. I hate their whining fucking fans that think the refereers are working in conspiratory tandem against their team, their lament that the Lakers "bought" the nail-biting 2002 conference finals by paying off the striped shirts, and their childish hatred of all things Laker. But now my anti-Kings antidote is being put to the test.

What if I catch this Kings Fever? Already, I'm envisioning myself being drawn to the purple and black colors of what has become one of the NBA's hottest selling merchandise teams. What if I find myself toying with the idea of making the Kings my other favorite team? Get caught up in the rapture of the rabid fandom that is Kings Nation?

The speculation is too ghastly for me to consider right now, but my stepdad thinks it's a good thing. How, I'll never know.

I shudder at the idea of strolling through a mall somewhere in town, hit with the affliction of Kings Fever, and searching the racks madly for a Kings jersey, my mouth salivating at the black and purple colors. I wake in a cold sweat and tug my Lakers cap a little tighter on my head.

Commitment To Excellence

2010-02-05T22:43:00.000-08:00

What happens when a day in paradise spins out of control? Here we explore the ugly side of Raider Nation.

___________________________________________________

By Jeff Field and Mark Bryant

Summer 2004

Rip was, to use the oft-repeated expression, a "die-hard Raider fan." He and his cohorts Julio, Greg and Burt had arisen early that Sunday morning to see the Raiders take on the Cincinnati Bengals in Oakland. To them, they weren't simply going to a football game, they were on a mission.

The foursome piled into Greg's black Chevy Blazer, festooned with decals sporting the Raider logo and team colors. They reached the stadium parking lot around 9:30 am. The game was not set to start until 1 pm. As had been planned, they joined the assembled multitudes in that ritual which has come to be known as "tailgating"--in which the Raider faithful (and whoever else happened to be there) would loiter around their vehicles, eat, scream, yell, and enjoy a beer or two. Or thirty.

In addition to the prodigious amounts of Budweiser on hand (was it three cases or four?) there was also Jack Daniel's, and, for such a special occasion, a couple bags of crystal meth.

By the time 1:00 rolled around, the foursome were making their way into the stadium, in game form--that is, hopelessly intoxicated.

The game was over almost before it began, with the Raiders fumbling the opening kickoff and the Bengals returning the fumbled ball for a touchdown. This, however, did nothing to slow the brisk business being done at the concession stands, where the beer flowed freely.

Somehow, sometime during the third quarter, Rip managed to make his way to the restroom. But that was as far as he got. As he stood there attempting to unbutton his pants, he suddenly vomited violently into the urine trough. Then, he passed out on the floor.

After a time, Julio, still in the stands, became concerned and went to look for Rip. He found him just in time--security had been called--but not before Rip's wallet, metal-spike studded collar and wristbands, and his vintage Lyle Alzado jersey had been stolen. They made their way back to their seats.

By the time the game ended--the Raiders lost 27-6--Rip, Julio, Greg and Burt stumbled out into the parking lot. Greg and Burt, swearing loudly and infuriated about the game's outcome, kept repeating that the Bengals "sucked ass" and were "a buncha fags."

They piled into the Blazer and headed out of the parking lot. Greg and Burt, riding in front, got the idea to drive to downtown Oakland* to "score a fat-ass rock." Rip, in back, was nodding in and out of conciousness. Julio worried.

Once they found an area that looked promising, they parked the Blazer and got out. They walked down a dimly lit street, looking for someone who could "hook them up." They were still loud and belligerent. Burt spotted a car parked about half a block up. It was a red Lexus. Its' vanity license plate read: "9ERNO16"--Niner number sixteen**. Burt, upon seeing this, flew into a blind rage, snatched up an empty bottle from a nearby garbage can, and hurled it at the Lexus. He missed. Instead, he hit the car parked behind the Lexus--a meticulously restored '72 Olds Cutlass. Its' custom chrome rims shone even in the dank, hazy early evening. The bottle hit the trunk of the Olds, denting it, bounced, and hit the back window, cracking the glass.

Upon hearing the noise, four men dashed out of a nearby corner market. Evidently, one of them owned the Oldsmobile. They spotted Burt and company down the sidewalk and raced toward them, spoiling for a fight. The ensuing melee was disrupted by the sounds of approaching sirens. All the combatants scattered and fled, albeit in different directions.

Rip half-ran, half-staggered in what he knew not direction until it seemed he was a safe distance away. Eventually, the sirens faded. He ducked into a dark alley and collapsed on an empty shipping crate.

Rip surveyed his surroundings: Empty bottles, used syringes, trash, rats. He noticed he had lost one of his shoes. It occurred to him that he was hardly the first person in his condition that had occupied this space.

Rip sat for an indeterminate period of time. He felt himself sobering up som--not a lot, but some. A thought occurred to him--he knew not from where:

"If this isn't rock bottom, I don't know what is. I guess there's nowhere to go from here but up--unless I stay right here where I am."

"AND THAT WAS A TERRIFIC JOBBA CONSUNTRAYSHUN BY TIM BROWN"

(...announcer's gushing commentary, fade to black)

*According to FBI crime reports in 2002, Oakland exceeded the national average per population of 100,000 in the following: murders, forcible rapes, robberies, aggravated assaults, burglaries, larceny and thefts and arsons.

**Joe Montana wore number 16 during his years as the San Francisco 49ers heroic quarterback. Montana led the 49ers to four Super Bowl titles in the 1980s. Many Raiders fans despise the 49ers primarily because of their squeaky-clean image and do-no-wrong aura that they claim the media promotes. The aforementioned is reputed to be the antithesis of Oakland fans, legendary for their rowdy behavior.

State of Hoop (from Philadelphia: A Fan’s Notes)

2010-02-05T22:42:00.000-08:00

By Mark Bryant
May 11, 2003

"The Philadelphia story is not unique. In fact is typical of a handful of cities around the eastern portion of the United States, stretches into the Midwest. Boston, New York, Philly, Washington (formerly Baltimore), Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit (nee Fort Wayne) and Milwaukee make up the nation's Basketball Belt, characterized by intense fandom and loyalty. At one time Carolina was high on the list, but Charlotte doesn't have a team anymore and Duke, N.C. State, and the Tar Heels are college programs."
"The Sixers take the floor to a tepid response from the sparse crowd. They are an important part of the city's culture and pride, and possible the lone entity that elicits such unbridled, opinionated and unisoned responsed from those of different backgrounds...The Eagles have a mostly working class fan base, but like the vast majority of NFL cities, those that attend home games are predominantly white. Likewise the Phillies, in addition to most other major-league baseball fan bases...
...Basketball is a black man's sport, and the NBA's demographic both in terms of game patrons, front-office people, coaches and players reflect that. Recently, the league has attempted to counter this by moving into previously uncharted waters in Europe to find new white talent in the hopes of creating another Larry Bird. The results have been encouraging for those executives who secretly are yearning for a white superstar, a marketable product to put an end to the domination by coarse ghetto street toughs with their braids, cornrows and Afros and their loud rap music which utterly irritates the powers that be."

Philadelphia (A Fan’s Notes)

2010-02-05T22:40:00.000-08:00

Mark Bryant
May 11, 2003

"...Which brings to the forefront a question that has haunted our town for over a decade now. We've got the Betsy Ross House, the Spirit of '76, the hallowed Independence Hall, the equally grandiose City Hall, and perhaps the most demanding, pedantic, engaging and vocal fans in the world. We're the most patriotic, passionate American city. So why does out pro basketball team...for lack of a better word...suck?"

"Other teams have boasted by far more talented and superior rosters. Other teams have boasted more players considered among the greatest in the game's history. Other teams have garnered more championships. But for the scant number of years that Philadelphia pro basketball was in the limelight, this was a team for the ages...It was a team built not on flashy talent, ubiquitous endorsements, household notoriety, but on the premise of hard work, camaraderie, teamwork, togetherness, love and devotion. Qualities that seem vastly unattainable in today's me first "supa-star" driven pro hoop world, where every time you turn around, a "supa-star" is sauntering into practice, fifteen minutes late and having the gall to take offense if a coach dares upbraid him for it. Every time you turn around, a "supa-star" is hit with a paternity suit, hit with a drug charge, hit with the police blotter.

"Drugs, alcohol, massive sexual promiscuity and misconduct, and domestic discord has become so widespread and common that seldom do we show shock, or even give thew illusion of disillusionment anymore, when a "supa-star" is taken to task for his offending deeds. But then there are those who argue that this mega-ego era is not wholly different from seasons past. Them, the media covered up most of the dirt and swept it under the rug. In the Sixties, Seventies, and Eighties, the residue of the free-love, me-,and he-who has the most toys generation, a lot of the booze, drugs, partying and uninhibited bed partnership was considered okay. Are we, in the pursuit for nostalgia, crying out for old-school values by maintaining a politically correct veneer of smog?"

"Let's see, what else? I like deep dish east coast style pizza, good dark ale, enjoying the dives around the city, Allie's Jazz Bistro, Eagles at the Vet on Sundays, catching up on reading at the Free Library, taking in a movie and of course visiting the crumbling Spectrum for what we call "squeak-ball". Not much different from other red-blooded males in the City of Love, I guess."

"Fans here in Philly have long been characterized as bleeding-heart working class Joe Schmoe-esque fanatics, but the reality is that many of them are ugly drunks."

"Philadelphia is a coagulating working-class/lunchpail city combined with city slickers and yuppie types (see: "Trading Places"), not without the disdain on both sides. It is also a city fraught with underlying racial tension. Inner city blacks and Italian-Americans have long been notorious for various fracases. Hence, the (Philly) fans, which consist of all these various elements, unleashes a barrage of steam at the games, channeling their insecurities and frustrations into cheering, harassing and heckling both teams with equal fervor...Philadelphia is also a hard luck city, possibly the city with the least to show for it in all its' years in the annals of American professional sport. The Eagles last championship came in 1960, and the Phillies' baseball team has managed to capture one, and only one World Series in 1980; during the rest of their existence they have been traditionally a low-tier team...The psychological reaction of this has taken its' toll on countless Philadelphians, but our tendency, while overbearing and tough-love-esque, is also to hope. Underdogs are revered. Rocky Balboa, the mythical underdog Italian Stallion of motion-picture boxer fame in the incarnation of Rocky Marciano, has a statue here. This fact has not failed to piss off Joe Frazier, another long-odds champion who is black. Richie Allen, a former Phillies star, had his troubles with fans who he felt criticized him too severely and game underperforming white players the benefit of the doubt. Curt Flood, a black standout player for the St. Louis Cardinals, was suddenly traded to the Phillies and flat out refused to play here, which eventually created baseball's free agency system (You have to think Curt knew something...)...Such is the City of Brotherly Love"

Gina’s Roadside Truckstop Cafe

2010-02-05T22:36:00.000-08:00

Sometime during Spring 1999

One day in the newsroom I got bored while hard at work (like this nnnnneeeeeeever happens). I happened to speculate on what might be the case if Gina M., the little petite (and cute, I might add) chick over in the Features department, started up a business with me. I think she had a stupid ass frat rat as her boyfriend. The result after a few minutes of combination fuckaroundathon and creative thinking was this:

GINA'S ROADSIDE TRUCKSTOP CAFE

"You slaughter it...we sautee' it!" It beats playing with your food!" --Gina M.

BURGERS

PETITE BURGER-- For those my size. .99
BIG BURGER--It's a bigger burger than the above 1.99
BIG ASS BURGER--It's a big ass burger. Self explanatory! 2.99
SUPER BIG ASS BURGER--Once again, self explanatory! 3.39

FRIES
Tater Tots-- .89
Calf Fries-- Nothin beats these 1.29

ROADKILL
Finest Delicacies From America's Highways
Dead Possum
Dead Squirrel
Dead Monkey
Mutilated Fowl
Cooked Pigeon
Skunk with Body Spice
Skunk without Smell Sac

Roadkill Pitty Patter--If you can't decide, this is it. Dead possum, skunk, squirrel, dead bird and monkey all rolled up into one BIG ASS casserole with gravel from car bumpers optional.

Oakland Pilgrimage ’98/Predictions in Hornet (Will’s Wizardry)

2010-02-05T22:34:00.000-08:00

On a starry silvery and coal black night, we headed over to Oakland and the Oakland Coli (aka Mecca) under cover of darkness in the witching hour. If I'm not mistaken, this was the weekend that we did it. Only some crazyass Raiderfans would venture to Oakland in the middle of the night, drinking copious amounts of beer through the entire process. We ended up knocking on the doors of several Coli-area hotels at 2 in the morning, but alas, no vacancies. Did I mention we were DRUNK OFF OUR FUCKIN' ASSES?!?!?!?! AHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!!! Oakland 27, Cincinnati 10.

10/21/98--Hornet Sports
State Hornet, Sacramento State

Will's Wizardry

NCAA
1. Hornets vs. Lumberjacks (Northern Arizona)
NFL
2. Falcons vs. Jets
3. Ravens vs. Packers
4. Bills vs. Panthers
5. Bears vs. Oilers
6. Bengals vs. Raiders
7. Jaguars vs. Broncos
8. Vikings vs. Lions
9. Steelers vs. Chiefs
10. Patriots vs. Dolphins
11. Buccaneers vs. Saints
12. Niners vs. Rams
13. Hawks vs. Chargers

My picks (Will Mosley)

1. Hornets
2. Jets
3. Packers
4. Bills
5. Oilers
6. Raiders
7. Broncos
8. Vikings
9. Steelers
10. Dolphins
11. Buccaneers
12. Niners
13. Hawks
11-2

Mark Bryant, Hornet columnist and hopeless Raiders fan
1. Hornets
2. Jets
3. Packers
4. Bills
5. Oilers
6. Raiders
7. Jaguars
8. Vikings
9. Steelers
10. Patriots
11. Buccaneers
12. Niners
13. Hawks
9-4

Josh Ellis, ex high school quarterback and Esparto native
1. Hornets
2. Jets
3. Packers
4. Panthers
5. Oilers
6. Bengals
7. Broncos
8. Vikings
9. Chiefs
10. Patriots
11. Saints
12. Niners
13. Hawks
8-5

RESULTS, Sac State and Week 8 NFL
Sac State 38, Northern Arizona 21
Jets 28, Falcons 3
Packers 28, Ravens 10
Bills 30, Panthers 14
Bears 23, Oilers 20
Raiders 27, Bengals 10
Broncos 37, Jaguars 24
Vikings 34, Lions 13
Steelers 20, Chiefs 13
Dolphins 12, Patriots 9 OT
Saints 9, Buccaneers 3
Niners 28, Rams 10
Hawks 27, Chargers 20

Go Figure: Most Likely To...(Class of ’92)

2010-02-05T22:29:00.000-08:00

I have always had a nastyass mouth...but hey, I get my point across...

__________________________
May 28, 1992
Originally Published in The Plank (Jesuit High School)

Most likely to...

Mark Bryant--become a beat writer and revolutionize the use of profanity in the public media.

__________________________

LMAO!!!!!

Dave the Dick’s Demise (Too Funny)

2010-02-05T22:26:00.000-08:00

Dave the Dick’s Demise (Too Funny)

God, this guy was a dick. We all hated him. In fact, we sorta collaborated a fake news story on his demise.

___________________________________________________

Fall 1993

Campus police today are baffled by the sudden disappearance of The Daily Collegian Editor In Chief David Donnelly. Donnelly, who had many enemies on campus, was last seen at the Bucket, where he was, according to one witness who asked to remain anonymous, "plastered off his ass." Campus Police, who also did not like Donnelly, refuse to search for the missing newsman. Fresno police laughed at inquiries as to whether or not they would search for Donnelly, replying, "Would you?"

According to news editor Dave Mirhadi, "Applications for editor in chief are now being accepted at The Daily Collegian office." Mirhadi seemed no worse for the wear in relation to the disappearance. Insiders tell this reporter that an all night party was held at the Collegian with such amenities as a fully stocked wet bar, numerous naked women, and boxes of fine Cuban cigars.

Donnelly as a person could only be described as a loser. He had no friends, no girlfriend and was known to frequent bars with Pee-Wee Herman. Donnelly leaves behind no family that will claim him and a mountain of debts incurred during his tenure at the Collegian.

Tommy Monreal, an employee under the hopefully late Donnelly, commented on the vanishing of his former boss. "I hope they never find his ass," he said. "That son of a bitch was always on everybody's ass. I just wish he hadn't disappeared so I could still take a shot at him."

Another subordinate under Donnelly, Celeste Cox, tried to hold back giggles when told of the news. "Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha", said Cox, who is also a ROTC cadet at CSUF. "Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha."

Funeral services will not be held because no one will probably show up anyway. Donations in Donnelly's name can be made to the Daily Collegian "Beer and Breasts fund." Cash only, people.

Zoldak proves to be a good choice (Vault: Daily Collegian 1992)

2010-02-05T22:21:00.000-08:00

Zoldak proves to be a good choice

November 11, 1992
Originally published by the Daily Collegian (Fresno State)

Bursting onto the cross country scene this year for Fresno State has been junior transfer Dan Zoldak--and that is the great understatement of 1992. Zoldak has gained respect from just about everybody--his opponents, teammates, and coaches--because he has the drive in him that won't let him down. According to head coach Red Estes in midseason, "He has done quality running every time."

Now, with the season winding down and the WAC/NCAA Region 7 Championships coming up, Estes still maintains: Outstanding. He was a good choice for our program. Dan is really a solid runner, and never has a bad performance."

Five-foot-nine, 130 pounds of bouncy, kinetic speed, Zoldak is on the go from the opening gun until he hits the tape. Some Bulldog observers would rank him on the team second only to Jamey Harris, the senior who won the Big West last year and could win the WAC this year.

The two--Harris and Zoldak--are the one-two punch and dynamic duo that gives the Bulldogs the edge in close races. But it's clear that Zoldak is coming into his own. When Harris leaves, it's likely that Zoldak will step into Harris' shoes--and they might be too small.

"Dan made a very easy transition from junior college to Division I NCAA running," Estes said. A lot (of runners) don't preoject themselves immediately. It usually takes a year or so to make the jump and be able to compete. Dan's an exception. He stepped into Division I shoes and never missed a beat."

Zoldak said, "Division I pumped me up. And being on a team that's going for a championship makes it all the more worthwhile.

"The team needs me to be consistent. I usually am."

He has shown that consistency in every Bulldog race this sdeason. In this season's initial meet, the FSU Invitational, he placed second on the Bulldogs to Jamey Harris in 25:28.6 and third collegiately.

That was an impressive start for his first Division I meet. From then on, his strong running came to be known as the "Zoldak Attack." Zoldak continued his strong running by being in the top 10 at the UC Davis Aggie Invitational. He was second collegiately in 31:24.8.

In the Stanford Invitational, he ran a 24:52 meet and finished 30th overall, which was still good enough to finish second behind Harris. Zoldak's showing enabled the 'Dogs to get past UC Berkeley after losing to them twice this year.

He certainly has helped the Bulldogs consistently this year, having finished second among Fresno State runners in the Cal Poly-SLO, Stanford, UC Davis, and FSU Invitationals.

"I was waiting for competition to come along," he said candidly about his running days at West Valley JC in San Jose. "And the competition came along."

"His strengths are at 10K, which is what we'll race in the WAC Championship on Nov. 14. He'll really be in his prime by then, and running his best, which will be an advantage. He has not missed a practice this year. He hasn't had any injury or any other setbacks. He's just had an outstanding year," Estes said.

He went on to add about the Championship, "It's a good bet Dan will be in the thick of it. I see him in the top 10, maybe higher.

"Of course the two things that concern us are the altitude and that we don't know how good the WAC runners might be compared to us.

"It'll be a challenge, and Dan will accept it."

To this, Zoldak responded, "The whole team's going in to get nothing less than championship.

"I think we'll surprise people. I think we're all strong runners, so it'll come down to running ability and not how thin the air is."

Abas tries to rise to a new level (Vault: Daily Collegian 1992)

2010-02-05T22:17:00.000-08:00

Abas tries to rise to a new level

October 21, 1992
Originally published by the Daily Collegian (Fresno State)

How to deal with raised expectations and standards after a highly successful season is any athlete's challenge to avoid the "sophomore jinx". A runaway start to a career becomes a tough act to follow.

Gerry Abas is in that boat this year. He's only has one wrestling season under his belt but already a great career. Abas enjoyed a highly productive 1991-'92 season, going 41-7 with one pin.

He marched all the way to the NCAA tournament, where he placed sixth. Abas, a returning All-American, was 18-1 in dual matches and was third in the WAC tourney.

Try these other highlights on for size: He was fifth-ranked nationally in his 142-pound weight class by Wrestling USA magazine. Abas was also named one of two Bulldog most outstanding wrestlers. He shared the honor with Lorenzo Neal, who also can be seen throwing opponents at Bulldog Stadium.

To no one's surprise, Abas was named the Bulldogs' most outstanding freshman.

Head Coach Dennis DeLiddo contends that Abas was quite possibly the best recruit the team has ever had.

"I knew he'd be real good. He wrestled real well during his redshirt year and he was going to have a great year, no doubt about it," DeLiddo said. "I hope he can do it again--I hope he has another three years like that. I'd like to see him place higher in the NCAA's and win the WAC this year."

Abas said that the year he spent as a redshirt was the best things he could have done upon entering Fresno State.

"I thought it would be best to redshirt," Abas said. "I learned a lot.

"There's a big difference between high school and college, and I realized it well. It's like the minors and majors. By redshirting and sitting out that transition year, I could use that year as a way to slowly adapt to college," Abas said.

"That was a big jump. In one blink, I was dependent and living at home, and then the next I'm moving out and getting my own apartment. By the second year, I was ready to go and real hungry.

"The best thing about it was that I wasn't pushed. There were two others in my weight class with more experience when I got here, so I just took a back seat to them and tried to learn as much as I could."

When Abas takes to the mat in 1992, he will be trying to extend his success in another way. The 5'10" grappler has a 10-match winning streak heading into this season.

Abas was second on the Bulldogs in match points last year, with 70. His 41-7 record last year was the eighth best in school history and was the sixth best winning percentage at .854. He also made impressive showings in season tournaments, winning the All-California tournament, the CSU Fullerton tourney and placing second and third at the Oklahoma Open and Las Vegas Invitational.

Now comes the tough part. There is another season to prepare for, another in which to outdog and pin opponents who want a piece.

"I didn't have any pressure on me or expectations last year, because I was new," Abas said. "I was continuing to win and by midseason I had a spark in me to be an All-American. I kept telling myself 'You're only a freshman, there is no pressure'. Pressure will eat you up and spit you out. I tried to avoid it as much as I could and still do when I wrestle.

"There will be an increase in pressure every year and with that will come new challenges. People will be telling me every year that I'll do better than last year. I'll have to win more, pin more and surpass last season in order to say I had a good year. People will be gunning for me this time around. I caught them by surprise when they thought they could pound on me because I was unknown.

"The tide has turned. One year, I was an underdog to everybody and supposed to lose. The next, I'm expected to win. I'll just have to deal with the pressure, and I think I can do that. I think I can uphold my standards."

Holiday Bowl hopes still alive after 42-31 victory (Vault: Daily Collegian 1992)

2010-02-05T22:12:00.000-08:00

Holiday Bowl hopes still alive after 42-31 victory

November 2, 1992
Originally published by The Daily Collegian (Fresno State)

When Fresno State football came out with the "Four Quarter Football" slogan for the 1992 season, they weren't kidding.

It wasn't until Anthony Daigle pounded home a three-yard touchdown run with 2:39 to go that the Bulldogs 42-31 barnburner win over Wyoming was sealed, and the Red Wave's 31,088 patrons could breathe a long sigh of relief.

The Bulldogs were looking to post their second straight win for the first time this season, and it looked early on that they were going to do it in pinball-machine style--with a 28-point gorge in the first 15 minutes.

Quarterback Trent Dilfer and company drew blood on the first two possessions, mixing it up well. After Ron Rivers sliced for 22 yards on his first three carries, wideout Michael Ross had time to get behind the Cowboys' secondary for a 52-yard strike. Boom--the 'Dogs were up 7-0.

On the next drive, the Bulldogs drove 73 yards in six plays to another score. Dilfer hit Malcolm Seabron on a 27-yard TD pass to rise up 14-0.

They would get another on Anthony Daigle's one-yard TD blast. It was 21-0. On the ensuing kickoff, Wyoming's Ryan Christopherson couldn't hang on to the short kick and the Bulldogs' Gabe Romero recovered.

"That was an area which gave us trouble all night long," Wyoming head coach Joe Tiller said.

The turnover led to a six-yard scamper by Rivers to put the Bulldogs ahead 28-0 and Wyoming in a gaping hole that looked to be growing wider by each Bulldog possession. Dilfer was perfect in his first seven attempts for 139 yards.

"Our offensive line has to get the credit," FSU head coach Jim Sweeney said. "They make the good backs we have look great. We also caught the ball extremely well."

In the second quarter, the Cowboys began to chip away at the FSU lead. A 70-yard. 11-play drive was capped by Hughes running a one-yard keeper and putting Wyoming on the board to make it 28-7.

The Cowboys' receiving threat, Ryan Yarborough, who is the country's top wideout in scoring and TD catches while only a junior, had yet to make an impact. So Hughes hit him in the end zone on a five-yard TD pass and the score stood at 28-14. Yarborough would not have a heart-stopping night, being held to six catches for 73 yards.

Dilfer had thrown a surgical-precision sensational game in the first 30 minutes, with 16 for 20 passing and 227 yards, which would be decent game totals for lesser quarterbacks. He would finish the night 19 for 30 and 282 yards. In the third quarter, Wyoming crept closer. Too close. Kris Mindlin's 27-yard field goal made it a 28-17 game.

Wyoming then went 85 yards in nine plays to another score. Driver got a two-yard TD run and then the two-point conversion.

Suddenly, the Cowboys were knocking on the door with 25 unanswered points.

If the 'Dogs didn't realize it earlier, they had to now--they were in a ball game. They hadn't been on the board since the first quarter and the momentum had shifted to Wyoming.

With the score 35-31, the Bulldogs put on a clock-eating, run-only drive that took six minutes, and Daigle had his third touchdown run to put the game out of reach. Linebacker Wendell Valentine ended all doubt by scooping up a fumble by the Cowboys' Yarborough with 2:31 to go.

"It looked like it was going to be so easy," said Sweeney. "I was thinking: New Mexico (last year's 94-17) rout all over again. We were having the night to do it, too. They (the Cowboys) could have laid down and died, but they didn't. That guy on the sideline (Tiller) has too much character to let them quit."

Tiller said that the Bulldogs would cause many a problem in the WAC in the years to come.

"I have tremendous respect for Fresno State. Offensively, they are explosive and can score at any time. Defensively, they make the plays when big plays have to be made. I credit FSU for finding a way to win. Good teams find ways to win, and that's what they did," Tiller said.

"I was frightened to death," Sweeney said of the Cowboys' comeback.

"This is the best we've ever played over four quarters here. I don't know whether any past Bulldog team could beat this team tonight."

FSU tries to keep WAC hopes alive (Vault:Daily Collegian 1992)

2010-02-05T22:09:00.000-08:00

FSU tries to keep WAC hopes alive

October 30, 1992

Originally published by The Daily Collegian (Fresno State)

It has been a long time since anyone can remember Fresno State being at .500 this late in the season.

But then, this hasn't been your typical season either. All of the Bulldogs' four losses could easily have gone the other way. With a little luck, the 'Dogs could be 8-0 at this juncture.

Since luck doesn't count in the standings or on the scoreboard, however, the Bulldogs remain at 4-4 and 2-2 in WAC play, needing a win over Wyoming Saturday night to stay in realistic contention. The game will be at 7 p.m. under the bright lights at Bulldog Stadium.

In fact, both teams need a win. Wyoming comes in with the same record as the Bulldogs.

"I think at this stage, it looks like we could have the WAC winner with two losses," Wyoming head coach Joe Tiller said. However, he said that he does not think the champion of the WAC will have three losses.

The Cowboys are coming off a 31-14 win at Colorado State that allowed them to break even at .500 with a 4-4 record.

In their game against the Rams, Wyoming, for the first time this year had success in the third quarter.

"We had good success (in the third quarter against the Rams), Tiller said. "We've been a team that has struggled in the third quarter. It was nice to play a football game for 60 minutes."

Wyoming doesn't run an option. Their offense utilizes the two tight-end spread.

Tiller sees his as a team that has to work hard to win. I don't see us like Fresno State; we don't have that capability," he said. "Our team is an average football team."

One player that FSU fans will look for is 6'3" junior wide receiver Ryan Yarborough. Through only eight games, Yarborough is six yards away from the magical 1,000 yard mark. Not too many college wide recievers have those kinds of numbers. He had 59 catches for 994 yards and 10 TDs. He is averaging seven catches and 124 yards a game.

"Yarborough is a great receiver, one of the best I've ever seen," said Bulldog head coach Jim Sweeney.

Fresno State is looking to win consecutive games for the first time this season. They are coming off a 31-28 thriller over New Mexico last Saturday night. In that game, Trent Dilfer rallied the 'Dogs to a last-minute victory by taking them 80 yards in six plays, capped by a 34-yard scoring strike to Malcolm Seabron.

Tiller had nothing but respect for Dilfer. "If we had to vote right now (for a player of the year in the WAC), Wyoming would vote for Trent Dilfer," Tiller said.

Tiller was also impressed with the rest of the offense and the Bulldog squad. "I think Fresno State is an excellent football team. I have a lot of respect for the Bulldogs and Sweeney," Tiller said.

What does Sweeney expect from the Cowboys?

"They have a huge tight end who can play. They have a great offensive line," Sweeney said. "They run more formations; I called Joe (Tiller) and told him why don't we make a deal; you run two formations and I'll run two formations."

Linebacker Wendell Valentine and defensive back Tommy Jones were a force for the Bulldogs. I'm proud of these guys; Tommy (Jones) has done a tremendous job for us," Sweeney said. He added that Valentine is becoming one the team's favorites.

Satterwhite sets goal to fill starting role (Vault: Daily Collegian 1992)

2010-02-05T22:04:00.000-08:00

Satterwhite sets goal to fill starting role

October 14, 1992
Originally published by The Daily Collegian (Fresno State)

It could be said that last year's Bulldog men's basketball team, with a 15-16 record and just missing .500, several players needed to step up and raise their game to fit into the team's plans for 1992-93.

The roster spots appear to be wide open and it looks to be up to the players to decide they want them.

And one player who wants one is sophomore guard Davon Satterwhite, who is constantly working to make good on his promising ability. Satterwhite had a solid year as a freshman, making the most of his chance to play early on. In the preseason, he hit five of six three-point shots for a season high 17 points against the University of San Francisco.

Satterwhite went on to play in all 31 games, averaging 6.7 points and 2.7 rebounds on the season.

"He had a very good freshman year," said Assistant Coach Jim Saia. "While he got off to a great start in the preseason, he tailed off as the season went on. But he came back strong late in the season."

"Davon's a gamer. He can play well in practice and obviously does, but he turns it up a notch come game time. Last year, he bailed us out a lot and helped us win games."

Saia added: "As far as being a player, he has tremendous ability. His natural instincts and hand-eye coordination are probably the best on the team. He has all the tools to be a great player, it depends on how much he wants it."

And does he.

"I went out there and just gave 100 percent," Satterwhite said on last year's season.

According to Satterwhite, his arrival wasn't so convincing. "When I first got here I was out of shape, and my ability to play had dropped. So I just worked hard on my game."

His training regimen included working on free throws and three-pointers following practice each day--100 shots each.

Now, Satterwhite is getting in shape for the upcoming season by lifting weights and conditioning.

"I'm a lot stronger than I was, and I'll have to be when we play our league games this year in high-altitude places."

The WAC schedule will include destinations like Utah, Colorado, and Wyoming.

"The older guys showed me the system and showed me around," Satterwhite said. "They showed me what I needed to work on and gave me the confidence so that when I got the open shot in a game, I'd hit it.

"This year, I hope we do better. Our team was real good in the beginning, but in league we didn't do so hot. I'm very excited about this year."

Saia said: "It's up to him. How well he does during preseason will determine whether he will get a chance to start." Satterwhite played a prominent role in '91-'92 as a sixth-man spark plug.

"He's in our plans. He can start. The starting lineup is in the air, and we don't know now who we'll redshirt and who we'll play," Saia said. It's up in the air and it's up to him."

Satterwhite was going to redshirt last season, but Head Coach Gary Colson decided to keep him on the active roster.

"I like playing under Colson's system. There's nobody standing around watching everybody else shoot. Everybody is involved in the offense,: Satterwhite said.

"When I got into game situations last year, I came off the bench and that made me more relaxed and confident when I got into the game," he said. "I want to start, but it really doesn't matter as long as I keep working hard. When I get into the game, I'll give 100 percent."

He seems to have great ability, but instead he says, "I just work at my game real hard. I go out and try to stay on top by keeping a step above everyone else."

Satterwhite made an impact showing in last year's Red and White Game, the annual scrimmage. He scored a game-high 20 points with four rebounds.

"I went out and shot a lot, and I was hitting my shots. It worked out because we were all pulling for each other to do well."

Saia said, "The experience he got last year will give him an edge. He was a reason we got off to a good start last season, because he played phenomenally well then. When he played well, the team usually did also.

"He wants to learn and wants to get better. He can be really good. The other guys get along with him well, he's a very likable person and a good student."

"We expect big things from him," Saia said.

But now Satterwhite wants to raise his game on stopping people.

"Offense wins games, defense wins championships," he said.

"And that's all we want to do, win a championship and take it one game at a time."

Tinsley fits in on FSU soccer team (Vault: Daily Collegian 1992)

2010-02-05T22:01:00.000-08:00

Tinsley fits in on FSU soccer team

October 7, 1992
Originally published by The Daily Collegian (Fresno State)

Ryan Tinsley, a junior transfer from UC Irvine this year, is emerging as one of Fresno State soccer's top newcomers.

Tinsley had an assist credited to him in the Bulldogs' 1-0 win over Oregon State. He has started in all 10 games this season and has one goal--a game winner--and two assists for four points. He played at Irvine Valley College in 1990 before moving to UC Irvine last year.

"The quality of play wasn't near what it is at FSU, but I got some experience. Last year at UCI, the talent was there; however, it's nothing compared this level, Tinsley said.

"It's like another world. This is a big-time soccer program. We have much better support, bigger crowd, and better coaching. Everyone on this team is good, but we also have the team-player atmosphere."

Tinsley said those aspects were lacking somewhat at UC Irvine.

"When you don't win, people get mad. We had a lot of talent and we could have been good, but there was too much dissension. On this team, if we lose, we don't really worry because we know we'll win again. We know we'll win a lot of games, so we'l pull together and go out to win the next one."

Head Coach John Bluem is more than happy to have Tinsley on board.

"We're pleased with what he has done. He is a player with a good attack," Bluem said. "Ryan has the skills, and he's worked hard since he's got here."

As a result, the 5'9", 145-pound midfielder has won himself a starting position.

"He has been a pleasant surprise," Bluem said.

Tinsley decided to play at junior college upon graduating from high school rather than coming to a major college immediately.

"I was a decent player, but I didn't think I could play Division I right away. I got better each year, and I improved my game. The (Irvine Valley) JC coaches helped me a lot. We also had some good players ,which made it an experience worth having," he said.

He not only is a dedicated player, he follows the game and laments the lack of enthusiasm for soccer in the United States as was once seen.

"I try to stay up on it, and I get magazines about teams in other countries," he said. "But in order to be able to compete with them, the U.S. is going to have to have a pro league, like Brazil and Argentina do. We need to get pro stars and get some national talent that is on the level with everybody else.

"The World Cup coming here in '94 should help the game grow. Some people won't care, but I think people will pay close attention and be exposed to the game," Tinsley said.

"Soccer is very popular on the youth level because kids just want to play. They don't need bats, bases and balls, or pads, or an indoor court. All you need is a ball and a place to play. You don't have to be big--size means nothing--and you don't need much supervision. Just kick the ball. There's not nearly as much pressure on kids and that's why they like the game so much."

Bluem is hoping the Cup will help the game prosper here also. "Everyone involved with soccer is hoping that will take place, he said.

"Whether that will happen, we don't know, but that is what we hope."

It's the Persistence (and Faith) that Got It Done

2008-05-17T03:19:00.000-07:00

Originally published by The Master Report (Sacramento, CA)

Oct. 2006

_____________________

It's the Persistence (and Faith) that Got It Done

By Mark Bryant

"It ain't over till it's over" --Yogi Berra

Johnny Lechner exemplifies what most people derisively refer to as a Generation X "slacker" and "Peter Pan that never grew up." He is 29 and still in college after 12 years. Lechner was set to graduate earlier this spring from University of Wisconsin-Whitewater but decided to study abroad in Europe, making him a student for one more year.

He's gained national fame and scorn for enjoying his free-spirited, carefree life as a college kid to the extreme utmost, refusing to leave an insulated world of academia and blissful limited responsibilities and head into the real world. I, for one, applaud the man. The moment you begin dying is precisely when you shed your youth and become one of the cynical, bitter and hardened souls you swore you'd never become.

While I don't recommend taking his overly scenic route to a goal of higher education, I can say that my road to a college degree contained more than its share of meandering curves, bumps, dead ends, and car breakdowns.

Fourteen years after alighting on a college campus as a precocious, wild-eyed, innocent eighteen-year-old freshman pronouncing myself ready for the world, I can now say that now I am prepared for whatever may come my way for the rest of my days. In June, I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree in journalism at the spry young age of 32.

All of these years weren't wasted. There were valuable lessons along the way. And before anyone asks…no, I didn't exactly spend all this time in school deliberately failing so I could stay in that perpetually half-boy, half-man state. Many people, including my family, did wonder whether I'd ever grow up, however.

You don't learn much from success, except what it took to get there. You learn more from rejection, disappointment and defeat than you learn on the climb up. Character is your stance in the dark and cold. And this climb was a roller coaster through both sunlight and summit and pitch black arctic valleys.

My odyssey took me from the idyllic pastures of campus to the rough but honorable world of military life (in which I failed miserably), back to school, back out again (repeated ad nauseam), to menial jobs, low-on-the-totem-pole jobs, working poor jobs, to no job, from broke and destitute to moneyed and discontent, from loneliness to unsatisfying relationships, to countless personal travails and scrapes. Frequently, all of these factors were in combination at one time or another.

I witnessed friends and acquaintances who were not so fortunate as I, friends who were friends in name only and solely in my fractured judgment who took advantage of me. By and large, these people fell by the wayside. Some are no longer with us. In the process, I nearly destroyed myself. But the human spirit is amazingly resilient. I've always had an innate ability to bounce back, stand and deliver just when most have counted me out. I also know that my father and grandfather are watching from above and are grinning with thumbs up.

This was truly my Super Bowl, World Series and NBA Finals and my greatest victory thus far.

I guess I needed some material to write about. I can safely say that my repertoire for my planned novel has been more than polished, thank you very much.

Contrary to common belief, college in itself doesn't make you any smarter than when you came in. It is the experience that enriches you and allows you to grow as a person, not what's inside the ridiculously overpriced textbooks you pay through your nose for.

What is basically summarized upon completing your quest is that you've achieved a mastery of higher education quality in a given subject and now you are deemed thus ready to make said subject your life's work.

I know this next one may sound equally heretical, but…while brawn may be the most overrated of a person's exterior qualities, intelligence may not be far behind. If you were trapped in a desolate godforsaken wilderness with all kinds of beasts waiting to devour your flesh plus unspeakable elements to deal with, would you rather have a person possessing an MBA/PhD./MENSA card and an Ivy League sheepskin attempt to lead you out…or would you entrust a person who maybe isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but is a skilled survivalist and maybe will stand a better than even chance of getting you to safe ground?

The IQ (also known as intelligence quotient) is not a gauge on how well you can rack up standardized test scores; it is what is supposed to be your learning potential. IQ is not and should not be a divisive barrier/difference maker between putting you in the smart, average or slow classes in school. It is not a failsafe predictor of performance. By age ten, a person most likely has developed all their skills above their shoulder they will ever have. IQ is a capacity and barometer for a person's "bandwidth", nothing more. You may not even reach a given score, or even top out there.

Now that I've ingratiated the self-aggrandizing elementary school teachers, superintendents, principals and shrinks out there who love to pump boys with Ritalin and other mind-altering chemicals and then wonder why we have a lost generation rather than accept that every kid learns differently and it's their job to reach them…let me get back to school days at good ole U. The social interaction defined your younger days, and it's what defines your days in college.

Why? Because in high school, a kid normally runs with a small pack, a small circle, a very exclusive clique. In college, this circle is drastically stretched to include a large group of people whether you like it or not. You are forced to interact with this large giant circle inasmuch as everyone has the goal of bettering themselves with a higher education pedigree (Or it may be as simplistic as bonding to beat the hated archrival for bragging rights in the bowl game coming up.)

A person must learn to be an effective communicator and how to navigate and negotiate if they want to get the most out of this transition period between childhood and being considered a full-grown adult. For me, this was hard. I had to learn to be my best advocate and guard my best interests rather than attempt to conform to a group of adherents that didn't fit me. Plunging into a square as a round peg was not going to fulfill my spiritual health.

The college experience for most coming of age today is little more than a pleasure cult filled with glorified wantonness. The challenge to think just isn't a high priority as it should be. Also, for far too many universities, academic brilliance is not the goal. Instead, the pursuit is in millions spent on sports programs, especially the football juggernauts. There are many deserving and hard-working starving students that literally don't know where their next meal is coming from. Yet, athletic directors think nothing of keeping semi-illiterate kids eligible to win a few more games and perhaps make a bowl appearance or next-bracket March Madness run to put coins in coffers. While all of this is happening, the pockets of faculty, trustees and "administration" are being lined gratuitously. And don't get me started on Frat Boy Frankie and Sorority Scandalous Suzy. Frankie typically carries all of a whopping 1.8 GPA. Suzy is a wanna-be debutante who has been known to get intimate with anywhere from half to three-quarters of Dear Olde Alma Mater's skill players and backfield depending on her blood-alcohol level. You, the mere mortal and dweebish nonathlete, will not be given the time of day. And maybe it's just as well.

Aside from these observations, I have also gained the insight of a few principles along the way.

Relentlessness is a state of mind, a state of body. Once you reach the state of being a tenacious and relentless to do the things you need to do, you don't accept anything less.

Denial of feelings and emotions is destroying things in yourself that you'd rather not be conscious and aware of. I have never shied away from showing my feelings on my sleeve because it's who I am. I wear many hats and many masks and one thing my personality will never be accused of is being bland and boring.

Once you reach attainment, your obligation is to give back. You didn't get here alone. My friends and parents leveled with me, and teachers from childhood to college told me in so many words: "I see something in you. I won't let you settle for mediocrity."

As an agent for change, a missionary for development, and an activist for action, I can say that "doers" do, while "don't-ers" make excuses. Doers, creators, and architects are those who don't take no for an answer and find ways—however unconventional—to get it done. People that don't do are those who are holding themselves back by mentally castrating themselves based on past failure. A person with a frame of reference for success is a winner before even stepping onto the field or into the arena. Thus, no matter what may lie ahead for me in the years to come, this diploma is something that can never be taken from me.

Now, I am out there in the dreaded "real world" at last, no longer a kid, no longer having the youngish college atmosphere to fall back on in a state of suspended adolescence. But no matter how much time passes from my walking the stage…as long as I preserve my one-of-a-kind persona and thirst for irreverence and iconoclastic paths like the guy from University of Wisconsin-Whitewater, I'll always be young.

Oh, the canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see. --Christopher Cross "Sailing"

Fans Get Stiffed: Owners' money game killing sports fandom

2008-05-17T03:08:00.001-07:00

Originally published by The Master Report (Sacramento, CA)

Mar. 2006

____________________________

Fans Get Stiffed: Owners' money game killing sports fandom

By Mark Bryant

In the days of old I used to love the Oakland Raiders, and I still do. Their pugnacious image and us-against-the-world mentality meant something. I became a rabid sports fan primarily based on this affinity for the Silver & Black warriors. I was a miserable lad on the occasions they lost.

Now, my feeling is more resignation. Since winning their last world championship in 1984, it is obvious the franchise has seen better days. Owner Al Davis was once a renegade hero, now he is reviled by many for moving the team to Los Angeles and strangling the organization due to his cantankerousness and stubbornness to change with the times.

It's not just the Raiders' fall from grace that has turned me cynical and hardened my love for sports like a dinosaur fossil. I look at most of these players today that populate the NFL, NBA, NHL, and MLB, and get the feeling that 90 percent of these dudes could give a rat's posterior what uniform they're adorned with as long as they're getting paid. It used to be exactly the opposite. Players played for pride, dedicating themselves to winning the ring.

The fish stinks from the head, and a similar feeling of malaise has occurred lately here in Sacramento with the Kings fans. As the Maloof brothers have babbled constantly about the need for the good people of the River City to pony up duckets for a new arena, fans have become increasingly irritated by their condescension. Already paying through the nose for some of the highest prices in the league for what has so far this season been a substandard product, the bloom is starting to fall off the rose.

The problem with the current Arco Arena is that while it's certainly not an ancient building by conventional wisdom, it was built in 1988 and therefore ill-equipped to handle the amenities that are a requirement for new arenas and stadiums today. This would include luxury boxes and suites, kiddie playlands and fan entertainment zones, restaurants, sports bars and other goodies that come with the modern day sports palaces.

Sports used to be great competition. Now it's all about great business.

Recently, the stewards of the Seattle Supersonics have discussed possible relocation to San Jose with the owner of the NHL Sharks franchise. Call me naïve, stuck on yesterday, a hopeless nostalgic, but it has always been my belief that the owners may run the teams as they see fit and direct their operations and ultimately their fortunes. However, the teams themselves—and the franchises thereof—belong to the people of the city they represent and their community. For an owner to break that trust and go whoring himself to the highest bidder is a purely reprehensible act in my book.

The Raiders are obviously more than a local phenomenon. They still have a large fan base from their days in Southern California, and indeed all over the country and the world. Their fandom is dubbed "Raider Nation" for their numerous passionate fans and outrageousness and fierce loyalty they project. But rumblings persist they may be moving back to Los Angeles because of the lack of sellouts and guaranteed money in Oakland that were promised them in 1995 when they returned.

Al Davis was raked over the coals by the rest of the NFL and fans when he had the audacity to move the team from Oakland in the early 80's, where they enjoyed their greatest success. But what transpired afterward was that owners slowly realized that they could increase the value of their franchises dramatically by holding cities hostage for new stadiums paid for with public funding. Failing to get the required support gave them a license to pull up stakes and go elsewhere for the almighty dollar.

Thus the Baltimore Colts became the Indianapolis Colts overnight in moving vans, the St. Louis Cardinals found greener pastures in Phoenix, the Los Angeles Rams migrated to St. Louis after years of horrible play in Anaheim, the Browns pulled out of Cleveland and began anew as the Baltimore Ravens, and the Houston Oilers eventually became the Tennessee Titans.

What happens is that the owners, who feel the need to put even more money in their bloated pockets, gouge the fans with exorbitant prices and then insist they help pay for new digs. If the fans balk, the next step is to threaten to wave goodbye unless they cave in. Even more discouraging is the fact that most of the true fans and diehards are priced out of the new ballparks, arenas, and stadiums because they can't afford it. They are then replaced by sheeple who will plunk down the cash to have a place to see and be seen, rather than give a damn about what takes place on the field.

If the owners want new stadiums to keep up with the Joneses, let them build the things themselves. I'm not paying one dime to support their whimsical demands when these guys have amassed more assets than you or I will most likely see in three lifetimes, let alone this one!

The Travails of Terrell Owens

2008-05-17T03:00:00.001-07:00

Originally published by The Master Report (Sacramento, CA)

Dec. 2005

____________________________

The Travails Of T.O.
By Mark Bryant

Once upon a time, there was this real nice kid from the Deep South who became a star receiver overnight and replaced a legendary player. Why, he even set a record for catches on a day that was supposedly set aside to fete the aging incomparable Jerry Rice.

Terrell Owens—what a player. He's the best, man. The guy's a driven superstar who is just misunderstood. Yeah, that's the key phrase, misunderstood. He might diss a fellow teammate (Donovan McNabb), might question their manhood (Jeff Garcia), but hey, the guy's a fun-loving prankster and boys will be boys. Besides when was the last time you saw him go Bill Romanowski on somebody?

He was respectful and polite, and always addressed reporters as "sir" and "ma'am", which in the lexicon of pro sports hierarchy is like a sergeant major saluting a private.

Players don't make a habit of congeniality towards the press.

Such a nice guy. He even gave a tribute a while back to his strict grandmother who never let him so much as go past the front yard while raising him. He used to never be allowed to play with the other kids unless he snuck out. Yeah, that's the ticket in getting to the bottom of why he can't seem to fit in and keep his mouth shut. His tragic youth.

Then he stood on the star at midfield in Irving, Texas and became T.O. That was his coming out party and arrival on the scene.

T.O. just wants to be loved and admired, and seeks attention because he's not getting enough of those. Hey, doesn't everybody? All he needs is a little love. So what's wrong with you people? He just got done catching his hundredth TD reception. No acknowledgment from the Eagles? 'Tis a travesty. Give him his due already.

I don't profess to understand or know a lot of Terrell Eldorado Owens' actions, incendiary comments, and most of all mindset. I do know that a lot of "true"sports fans have been deeply offended by his habit of turning the NFL on its' ear wherever he goes. The sad thing is that ninety percent of these so-called purists would welcome him to their team in a second.

Maybe he's just going about things in the wrong way. Maybe he needs to beat his wife or girlfriend, get caught with a pound of weed in his car somewhere, engage in a good-old fashioned bar fight, or do a bunch of steroids. Then maybe he wouldn't have to worry so much about being vilified for his mouthy, self aggrandizing demeanor.

T.O. burned bridges in San Francisco and now Philadelphia because for one thing, he refuses to at least carry the pretense of being discreet about voicing opinions related to teammates and authority figures—i.e. coaches and management. In the NFL, this is a no-no. You don't diss the guys you line up with on Sundays. It's like being in a foxhole. For another, he doesn't seem to realize his impact on team morale when he chooses to act out and make inflammatory comments. He doesn't think he's doing anything wrong. Then he acts as if his status as pariah is unfair when he is duly informed of his transgression.

Ahhh, just a symptom and manifestation of his inhumane treatment at the hands of the press, fans, management and players. Don't they realize his greatness? The man is unloved, unwanted and unappreciated, pure and simple. Conduct, schmonduct. Team rules, accountability and consequences are for the scrubs and civilians. Shame on the Eagles for their failure to anoint T.O. as the sacred cow he is.

After all he did for them? Playing on a broken leg in the Super Bowl? They lionize Jack Youngblood for doing the same thing but T.O. gets no love for putting his life and limb at risk. Whadda pity. He has every right to ask for mo' money. Contract, schmontract. Just reciprocate, baby!

T.O.'s biggest problem, however, is that he and his flamboyant, individualist personality would be more suited to the NBA. He moonlights as a part-time basketball player (he was denied by the Eagles permission to play in the Continental Basketball Association during this past off-season.)

See? They don't let him do what he wants. A guy like that who's a genuine superstar, you check with HIM on whether to do or not do something, yes sir. Especially when the said superstar is getting paid a superstar's contract. Yeah, buddy. As soon as everyone gets it through their thick head that the man is a god, the better off we'll all be.

A hoops superstar can make even a terrible team respectable, but the NFL is first and foremost a team game and a player can only be as good as his team puts him in a position to be. They call it "football" for that reason, not "T.O." T.O. wants to play "T.O." while the rest of his teammates play the conventional sport, and that isn't going to work. It certainly didn't during his latest escapade that culminated into him being told by the Eagles he was no longer welcome.

Allegedly, he said in a radio interview (with Michael Irvin, that prince of peace, no less) that the Eagles would be better served by having a QB other than Donovan McNabb in the lineup, namely Brett Favre of Green Bay.

Migawd, T.O. has every right to play his own game. It's called self-expression and it's just what this boring, PC-ized, neutered and sterilized NFL needs. He needs for everyone to see where he's coming from and stop hatin' on him.

T.O. is certainly not the first player to have a reputation for complaining loudly when things don't go his way or when he doesn't get the ball enough. Rice routinely was known for prima-donna behavior throughout his years with the Niners. The trick was, that Rice had the presence of mind to keep his ego in check most of the time. T.O. clearly doesn't understand the sophistication of keeping one's image intact, and this is what causes him grief.

Maybe it's just too much to ask superstars to have a bit of restraint and respect for their profession these days. Maybe T.O. is just exposing sport as entertainment and we all should just let him roam free, let him wave pom-poms, dance and stand on logos to his heart's delight. After all, for every one minute of airtime talk shows are aflame with the latest transgression of a knucklehead, three dozen kids from ages eight to eighty have already bought his latest jersey down at the local shopping mall. For the pernicious publicity, I think it's kind of an even trade-off.

Blacks in Baseball: A Silent Crisis (2005)

2008-05-17T02:39:00.000-07:00

Originally published by The Master Report (Sacramento, CA)

___________________________________

Blacks in Baseball: A Silent Crisis

By Mark Bryant

There was yet another World Series this fall, as there has been just about every year for the last century, with a couple of notable exceptions. For roughly half of that period, a significant segment of the population could only participate in the Fall Classic if they bought tickets.

Blacks were excluded from the rosters of Major League Baseball until Jackie Robinson broke in with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947. Today, the African-American baseball player faces a different crisis than his predecessors who suffered from outright bigotry: He is simply disappearing from the game.

As the NFL and NBA has increased in popularity among spectator sports by leaps and bounds, the MLB has sharply declined from its’ status as “America’s pastime.” Today, pro football is considered to be on the cutting edge in attracting and keeping new fans, while baseball is regarded as stagnant and boring. It is no surprise, then, that more and more black athletes have elected to enter the lucrative, player-friendly arenas of the NFL and NBA rather than embark on a career in baseball.

Sports Illustrated ran a front-page article two years ago lamenting the absence of the black ballplayer in the major league ranks, but don’t hold your breath waiting for MLB to solve the problem. A letter to the Washington Post this spring summed up: “Why should it change, if the game is profitable, given its current fan base?”.

Latin-American players, particularly those from the Dominican Republic, Cuba and Venezuela, have stepped into the void left by the declining numbers of black ballplayers. They account for 86% of players born outside the U.S. Just as basketball is seen as an ingrained part of African American culture, so is baseball in Latin America. Cheap talent is always a plus when considering the recruitment process of the tangled maze of baseball’s scouting system.

“Baseball is an inherited game, you can’t pick it up on the streets like basketball or football,” says Ralph Wiley, the ex-Sports Illustrated writer. “We’re still waiting for the day when American-born blacks are treated with respect in the game.

“In the first place, baseball never welcomed black players to begin with, which is why they had to form their own leagues in the first half of the 20^th Century, if they wanted to play…There is an underlying resentment for black ballplayers.”

Percentage-wise, blacks in MLB peaked at 20-25% in the late 1970s and early 1980s, since then the numbers have declined. Today at 10%, we have the lowest number of black players in MLB since the Robinson days of integration. What accounts for that?

First off, baseball is not, never has been and never will be considered a “sexy” and “in” kind of sport. It is tedious and puts a premium on strategy and execution rather than sheer athleticism. While blacks may opt to participate in skill-oriented sports like football and basketball in droves, it perpetuates the stereotype that they do not have the cerebral skills to excel in “thinking-man’s” sports such as baseball.

Second, the role of the black mentor in the lower levels—Little League, youth, high school, college and minor leagues—has been rendered nonexistent. It is clear that baseball is not a popular choice among black youths of today, but the cutting of youth and feeder programs in black communities has been the most stinging indictment. There is a dearth of knowledgeable fans in black communities and inner cities who are qualified to step in and teach the game to black youths.

It is tough to aspire to a major league career when not given the opportunity to play at a young age, and such a fate befalls most kids, not necessarily only in poor predominantly black communities. Major League Baseball has been remiss in marketing the sport to youth. World Series games typically start late in the evening and end well after midnight on the East Coast. That is much too late for even adults to stay up and pay rabid attention to, much less a youngster.

Third, the overall glamorization of football and basketball in high schools is a factor in why baseball has become less popular among black youths who otherwise would be good candidates for baseball. Talented athletes more often than not will forgo baseball altogether in order to put more focus on training for football and basketball seasons. As more and more high schools demand their players participate in year-round conditioning, weight programs and camps, three-sport athletes have become increasingly rare. More often than not, baseball is left out in the cold.

“All the girls cheer for the football players, and the players see all the fans,” said former Pittsburgh Pirates manager Lloyd McClendon, who is African-American and has a son in high school. “You go to a high school baseball game, and 30 people are there. So a kid is naturally going to go toward football, if he’s only going to play one.”

Justin Kasprisin, a recent graduate of the University of Vermont, points to the influx of Latins in baseball as another culprit. “Latin-Americans rose in baseball for the same reasons African-Americans did when they had the Negro Leagues. The low cost of developing players in Latin America plus baseball’s popularity there has created a player pipeline to the U.S.”

Finally, the economic structure often dictates that blacks opt for the greener (yes, this pun is intended) pastures of the NFL and NBA. Baseball is an expensive sport that requires more equipment and space to play than football or basketball. Many African-Americans simply can’t afford to play or go to summer instructional camps. Colleges offer scholarships in football and basketball, and more blacks naturally see those sports as a way out of poverty. It has become increasingly common for teenagers to declare themselves eligible for the NBA draft in recent years. Baseball typically requires players to spend an extended apprenticeship in the minor leagues for at least two to three years with no guarantee of reaching the major league pinnacle.

To remedy this, MLB has begun the RBI (Rebuilding Baseball in the Inner Cities) program in the last decade as a way to bring back baseball to black youths. Today, 190 cities across the U.S. and Puerto Rico are home to RBI. In 2004, Commissioner Bud Selig opened up a new Urban Youth Academy in Los Angeles in addition to facilities at Compton Community College. Bringing baseball to African-American urban centers has been a sorely needed idea, but much more is needed.

“I’m not sure many African-Americans kids identify with baseball players anymore,” says Mike Zmijanac, athletic director and football coach at Aliquippa High School in Pennsylvania. “(Blacks) don’t identify with baseball the way they used to, but I think the sport has fallen out of favor with a lot of Americans overall.”

Matt Drudge: The Man and the Myth--Feb. 2006

2008-05-12T23:35:00.001-07:00

Matt Drudge: The Man and the Myth

Matt Drudge had a nonescript childhood as an only child and barely graduated high school at a less-than-impressive 341 out of 355 students. His exasperated mother only sent him to public school after he failed Hebrew school and Bar Mitzvah.

“Secular school- i.e., sexular school- was like jail to me,” Drudge says.

Upon graduation, he held a swing shift position at 7-Eleven. “More than adequate curriculum vitae for that,” he notes.

Not exactly a candidate for “Most Likely to Succeed,” indeed.

Meet Mr. Drudge, media innovator of the 21^st century and Internet news personality. He breaks stories before others even get their hands on them. He is the creator of the Drudge Report website and was the first to break the news of President Bill Clinton’s infidelity tryst with Monica Lewinsky and the subsequent scandal in 1998. His rise to fame is all mapped out in the Drudge Manifesto, a scathing, irreverent chronicle on how he turned modern media on its’ ear and basically started a revolution in how we get our news.

Drudge actually started his assault on the journalism establishment as a youngster growing up in the Washington, D.C. area. “I’d look up longingly at the Washington Post newsroom walking the streets, knowing I’d never get in. I didn’t attend the right schools. In fact, I never enjoyed any school.” As a junior high school student he held a job delivering the now-defunct Washington Star. He often neglected to reach every subscriber on his route because “I would play editor. I noticed how their lead story was not really the lead story…how the hottest news and best reporting was buried on the inside pages and the best reporting was secluded in the rear sections when it should have been at the beginning. I’d rewrite my own headlines for an audience of one…I just knew I’d do it better if I was in charge.”

Drudge eventually forsook his penchant for reading newspapers brought into the store hot off the press at his all-night 7-Eleven gig and moved to Hollywood, “the part they’re always promising the clean up and never do.” Finagling his way into a clerk job at CBS Studios, he suddenly had what he always dreamed of: access to insiders’ news, gossip and hush-hush stories. This was the beginning of the inspiration for the Drudge Report, which he created using a few email addresses, which turned into a few hundred.

His website, www.drudgereport.com, soon would take off after a series of reports in which he beat the mainstream media by being the first to report the story. Drudge first got national attention in 1996 when he broke the news that Jack Kemp would be Republican Bob Dole’s running mate in that year’s presidential election. His site was the first outlet to break the “Zippergate” Clinton sex scandal. Today, his site receives millions of page views per day and is still growing.

To keep the site updated, he reportedly monitors several news channels and number of websites on several computers in his home office.

Drudge’s success in being a maverick news hawk is simple: He can do what he wants. He has no editor and he is his own boss. What makes his stories so popular is that they are exactly as he envisioned as a kid poring over the Star headlines: news stripped to the bone. The stories and news you find on his site are raw news with no additives or preservatives.

Virtually every newsroom across the country rewrites, spins, slants, softens and purifies the news it receives to the point to where the news item in question is but a caricature of what was the actual message.

Drudge has built his medium without propaganda or mainstream fanfare. He has over seven million readers a month. He may well be the antidote to the controlled, monopolized, biased information we receive from corporate monoliths on a daily basis, who control and operate most of America’s major media outlets.

It is not surprising, then that many in mass media industry do not agree with the things Drudge has said and one on his website to upstage the establishment. It is a fact that many in the conventional journalism field harbor an extreme dislike for Drudge, who owes his success strictly based on the advent of the Internet. He is the only person ever sued by the White House. Aide Sidney Blumenthal took him to the mat for a $30 million suit after being exposed on a Drudgian story of spousal abuse, which he vehemently denied. The case was settled before trial.

A federal judge noted in a judgment on libel lawsuit, which was in Drudge’s favor, that Drudge is not a “reporter, a journalist, or a news gatherer.” He has been reviled for his publishing of personal attacks, suggestions and private information, such as the Monica Lewinsky and Blumenthal reports.

However one thing that cannot be summarily dismissed is Drudge’s impact on the mass media culture and his total disregard for the “old boy’s club” of newsroom etiquette.

On any given day, a typical major metropolitan newspaper throws out twice as many stories as they actually publish. Such selectivity will very soon become a thing of the past as the Drudgian empire spawns new outlaw journalist. New ideas and concepts have always have been ridiculed and rendered unpopular by those seeking to maintain the status quo, and the Forth Estate is no different. In Manifesto, Drudge strips bare conventional press and what it chooses to report.

The future of journalism will belong to the internet predators, bloggers and people who dedicate themselves to digging up stories before the networks can get to it. Drudge is clearly devoted to exposing at every given opportunity the lazy and cliquish ways of the mass media in the conventional world, which no doubt fuels the ire of his enemies.

For the first time in the history of communication and the spoken word, one is not required to live in a corporate newsroom to gain access instant information, Drudge notes. Anyone can have their newsroom in a living room or bedroom with a modem, a phone jack, and an inexpensive computer. Drudge shows how to do it in Manifesto.

As predicted, six years after publishing his autobiography-slash-Chinese fire drill hit and run style of journalism guide, the Net is gradually replacing contemporary media at an alarming pace. His writing style, as would befit his image, is quick, witty and in-your-face. Purists will detest his unconventional email style of punctuation, prose and his cryptic messages throughout the book, but it is an accurate reflection of his persona. It is raw, uncut, and no-frills.

Definitely one of those stories where the little guy beats the big guy. Drudge has gone toe-to-toe with corrupt arrogant politicians, snobby journalists who believe their word is the only word that counts, and the sordid corporate underside to mass media. He has won, and continues to win with his penchant for true news coverage, not neutered tripe.

Literary Journalism III, Feb. 2006

2008-05-12T23:30:00.001-07:00

Literary Journalism III

By Mark Bryant

A great majority of artistically inclined persons-that is, writers, musicians, poets and the like-are to a large extent estranged from the world in which they are forced to operate with the rest of the mere mortals. Truman Capote, the author of the critically acclaimed literary journalism half-novel, half true-life In Cold Blood, certainly falls in this category along with noted eccentric writer Hunter S. Thompson. While Thompson is credited with expanding the idea of literary journalism into all sorts of "gonzo" journalism and new journalism that loosely contains fact and fiction, Capote is recognized by many as the innovator of such writing with the novel that made him famous.

New journalism, "gonzo" journalism or literary journalism, this form of informative writing that mixes fact and fiction and holds four main themes:

It is a form of literary expression.
Fiction and journalism are not mutually exclusive and can be mixed together to create a story.
To get the whole story, the idea is to get the story behind the story, to dig beneath the surface of external facts.
The New Journalist acknowledges his or her intervention and insertion into the story and their own experience is part of the events.

Capote was outrageous, offensive, and insulting to many people, being the social climber and back stabber that he was. His behavior was not, shall we say, becoming of what would be expected of a senator or congressman. He made the infamous remark that contemporary peer Jack Kerouac's work "isn't writing at all, it's typing." This one-upmanship made him many enemies and contributed to his isolation later in life. It may have contributed to his untimely death from substance abuse.

But between the white lines- on paper, that is, Capote was all writer. In Cold Blood is the story of a horrific murder of a family of four in Holcomb, Kansas at the hands of two sociopaths in 1959. Capote had unconventional methods of preparation for the book. He reportedly memorized entire conversations rather than take notes during the interviews of those involved in the investigation.

This is a complex story involving these sociopaths, who like Capote, didn't fit in with the rest of society. Unlike Capote, these two ex-convicts had no refuge for their angst. Richard Hickock was a gifted charmer with a knack for persuasion and above average intelligence. He was also a habitual criminal who specialized in petty theft, check fraud and prone to violence against animals and pedophilistic desires for young girls. Perry Smith was artistically and musically talented and enjoyed performing for others; however his life was filled with tragedy. Smith's father abandoned the family, and his alcoholic mother committed suicide as well as his brother and sister. He suffered abuse at the hands of nuns and caretakers in children's homes, which affected his mental health for the rest of his life. Smith was also painfully shy and introverted, which fits into what Capote, the author in private was.

In many ways, then, the foils that make up these two characters in a semi-portrait of Capote himself. These two murders were clearly bright, sharp, and extremely sensitive and carried a hard shell from years of rejection and ostracism.

The Clutter family, on the other hand, could be easily construed as a profile of what Capote and the two sociopath ex-convicts could never live up to. The head of the household, Herbert, was a dedicated and successful family man and farmer. He was held in high esteem b his farm hands who were employed under him. This was the typical All-American, salt-of-the-earth family.

Despite all of this, Capote steers remarkably clear of making excuses for the two murders. The men's life stories are intended only to serve as a backdrop, not as a way of explaining away their crimes.

While in prison, the two men meet up and are informed by another inmate that a substantial amount of cash is hidden on the Clutter premises and property. This turns out to be false, but it doesn't stop Smith and Hickock from killing the husband, wife and two children living in the home at the time. Incidentally, Smith, even though he commits the actual murders, dissuades Hickock from raping the teenage daughter, Nancy.

This story spawned a host of writers who attempted to follow in Capote's footsteps, some with success, and others with less than successful results. Most notably, Hunter S. Thompson also came to a tragic end by suicide. He was regarded as one of he most irreverent writers to grace a published page of writing.

This book was published in 1996, at what was the height of Capote's writing career. From then on, his career would largely wane, due to his substance abuse problems and chronic alcoholism. He was reportedly addicted to various drugs, both illicit and medicinal. In his later years, he often required hospitalization. He died in August, 1984 of a pill overdose.

Also unwittingly, Capote's book may have chronicled the death of innocence and total prosperity in America as the 1950's turned the page into the 1960's. It was now made horrifyingly clear that even in post-World War II America, in full flower, grisly murders and senseless violence did in fact happen, not just in some whodunit flick. Part fiction, part fact, In Cold Blood gave birth to a whole new writing genre in journalism.

Literary Journalism II, January 2006

2008-05-10T23:10:00.001-07:00

Literary Journalism II,

January 2006

By Mark Bryant

Justice: "Just Us"

The state of Texas incarcerates more citizens than any other state in the United States. It is by far the most draconian legal and punitive system in America, putting to death more of its' citizens than any other government in the world- over 280 in the last dozen-and-change years.

In the last decade, Texas has killed more people under the guise of state law than 43 other countries and the rest of the United States combined. In his last year as governor, while campaigning for the presidency, George W. Bush allowed 40 men to be executed.

The indignities suffered by many prisoners inside the Texas jails and prisons or on probation or parole are far too lengthy to list and document here. Suffice it to say that the system leaves a lot to be desired and that the Lone Star State is about the last place you would want to so much as stealing a candy bar, or run afoul of the law.

With so much glee and zealotry at imprisoning and sequestering them inside small rooms with bars on them, little thought is given to the fact that sometimes Loan Star's finest and the legal system do make mistakes. On rare occasions, God forbid, the wrong man in wrongly put in jail and even sentenced to die at the hands of glorious "Texas Justice".

Which brings us to the cautionary, sad, but nonetheless uplifting tale of Randall Dale Adams. He was arrested for a murder in 1977 and ultimately condemned to die for a grisly murder of a Texas cop that the eventual confessed killer, David Ray Harris, eventually admitted to. Finally, after more than 12 years of incarceration, Adams was freed.

No small contributor to his cause was the 1988 movie The Thin Blue Line, which suggested that the police altered, fabricated, suppressed and omitted evidence to convict the person they wanted guilty, rather than the actual guilty party (The real killer went on to kill again before he was brought down.) This movie was directed by Errol Morris, a noted documentary director. Because it was the only conviction he could get, he prosecuted an innocent man (Adams) while using the guilty man's (Harris) false testimony.

The practice of knowingly prosecuting the wrong person burying the evidence by executing him is chillingly common in our courthouses and venues of the law. Prosecutors can literally get away with murder, using the state to murder innocent defendants, especially poor underrepresented defendants with little or no advocacy support.

Chronicling this attempt to expose the crooked long arm of the law is Mark Singer in "Predilections."

AIDS in Africa

Denial is commonplace in the ravaging epidemic of AIDS in Africa. Women are beaten by their husbands savagely for insisting they wear condoms or so much as questioning the husband's health. AIDS is a shameful disease that is claiming untold lives of Africans every day, wounding a land beyond repair and yet little is done to stop the bleeding, other than the occasion goodwill visit or conference.

The ultimate tragedy is that people don't know-or don't want to know-what is happening to them and the lives of people close to them (i.e. the ones they sleep with). This disease thrives in a stagnant pool of shame and stigma and ignorance (i.e. the widespread myth that AIDS can be cured by sleeping with a virgin).

It also feeds off poverty and sexual violence (men often force women to have unprotected sex, if not outright rape, which causes women to play Russian roulette with their lives every time they hop into bed with a man) and double standards of promiscuity (men sleep around with impunity, but in some cultures it's an executable offence for women).

Ted Conover chronicles these travails of the African people in "The Road is Very Unfair: Trucking Across Africa in the Age of AIDS." He travels across East African Kenya through Mombasa and Nairobi and encounters hopelessness, wives' tales and predatory acts by "sex workers," who often contaminate unsuspecting victims looking for a warm body to sleep with on the road.

Of the 14 million people with HIV (the virus that causes AIDS) worldwide, more than eight million reside in sub-Saharan Africa.

Louisiana's Purchase

In 1987, John McPhee wrote a piece of literary nonfiction on the Army Corps of Engineers' attempts to tame the waters of Louisiana. "Atchafalaya" is the opening chapter of his 1989 book The Control of Nature. The plan by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers' is to divert the flow of the Mississippi River into the Atchafalaya tributary; this goes for naught.

This is the heartland of Cajun/French Acadiana. Many people made their livings, however meager they were, along and beside the Louisiana waters.

With the devastating effect of Hurricane Karina, one central tragedy is that the continued vitality of this region-or any return a reasonable sense of normalcy anytime soon-is highly in doubt.

Before Katrina, the fishing industry in Louisiana was on the brink of death. The number of people who could make their living in fishing has been declining. This will have a crushing blow on the industry. People of Cajun ancestry often make light of their reputation as resourceful underdogs who speak a fractured Franco-English dialect unique to their colorful culture.

Cajuns took to fishing, trapping and subsistence farming after arriving in Louisiana. However, they have often been looked down upon as poor, unsophisticated country bumpkins. The culture had been in decline even before the hurricane, as many families have stopped teaching their children the dialect of French that their parents spoke.

It would have been very interesting if "Atchafalaya" had been written in the present day, if nothing else, but to see the impact of a natural disaster on a gritty, blue-collar, often indigent people. It is my hope that McPhee sees fit to provide an updated version of his story.

Literary Journalism I, Dec. 2005

2008-05-10T23:01:00.000-07:00

Literary Journalism I, Dec. 05

Mark Bryant

Literary Journalism

December, 2005

The following are based on writings in Literary Journalism: A New Collection of the Best American Nonfiction. I have included my perspectives on a number of the authors' perceptions and portrayed individuals.

Unattainable Criteria?

Susan Orlean is disarmingly funny. The American Man At Age Ten pretty much sums up the frustrations of the dating cycle in a nutshell.

When I was ten, I had a crush on this golden-browned cutie at summer camp. My all-consuming fantasy of that particular time in my life wasn't getting in her pants…rather it was being the star outfielder for the Oakland A's.

Interests in my life were bikes, making things out of wood like tanks and ships and beating the bad-boy boxers in the Punch-Out video game. I had no idea that my attraction to chicks basically peaked then…because I was harmless and precocious. Now that I am older, wiser and thus hardened and bitter…that's the ballgame, folks.

It goes without saying that I am not a proponent of women who claim to have an exhaustive list of what they deem to be the perfect man. This would include "wish lists" for the knight in shining armor that they amazingly believe are out there somewhere. Sorry girls, but I do believe Joe Montana is already taken. Peyton Manning, however, is still up for grabs. Manning, alas, is too dumb to open a Campbell's Chunky Soup can but that shouldn't deter too many football frauleins if the assessment that intelligence is a minus and ruggedness a plus in the rules of attraction is correct.

An American male born into the crazed pop culture that is our society stands little chance against the onslaught of pinkification that has become prevalent in the post-1980's cloak of Orwellian thought-police concept known as "PC". The natural process alone removes most of the XY chromosome population from the unattainable list of flawless candidates. As soon as boys figure out that those are little hairs over their private parts, they become teenagers and thus sex-crazed, testosterone-fueled nutcases. Little changes through the next decade after as boys (sort of) grow into men and are indoctrinated to the numbing, exhilarating, euphoric sensations of plenty of drugs and alcohol. It's little wonder that precious few of us are sane enough to be taken seriously by the fairer sex by age 35.

A Colorless Death Sentence

Literary journalism is by definition, the art of a writer immersing into cultures that differ vastly from their familiar world and latching onto individuals that they normally wouldn't give a second thought or look to. Invariably, preconceived thoughts or ideas lead to the reader or writer being in for a rude awakening, or at the very least a jolting surprise. In Adrian Nicole LeBlanc's Trina And Trina, the protagonist is a teenage girl hopelessly entwined in prostitution, drug addiction, horrific poverty and a world of mind-numbing degradation and filth. She also is hampered by little or no job skills and education, and chronic illness.

In short, life has not been kind to Trina. There is something that seems unusual in this story, which adds to the shock value portrayed. She is neither a black girl nor a fugitive Hispanic driven to a squalid substandard life that is ten times better than what she knew. She is white.

"White trash" is an increasingly growing phrase of ultimate disdain, because the inference here is that the "trash" designation in America should only be reserved for minorities. So what's a white person's excuse for not attaining the shining lifestyle and wealth and power befitting their status? The answer is that in today's corporate and materialistic-oriented world, nothing is guaranteed anyone, least of all those with little education, job skills or background of solid foundation (i.e. upbringing).

Though the prisons are chock full of men of color these days, there's another exception in her "housemate", a man who has recently been released from prison. He is also white and Italian (judging by the his use of styling gel for his hair, I won't even get into the fact he dollops mayonnaise onto it like most people in this world use hair grease).

The reality is that the streets in America are a colorless, unforgiving maze of a cycle of poverty that will bite your ass no matter what hue your backside is; it is a culture that is hard as the concrete and pavement that they are comprised. The world's greatest government can't seem to put an end to, or at least make a serious dent in the hunger and homelessness and hopelessness that people like Trina wear like a overcoat against the weather. Capitalism is a bus that leaves behind the stragglers; the unlucky and unmotivated.

Which bring me to the conclusion that it's not so much a racial barrier that keeps the poor in their state of being poor, it's a have/have-not system. And as the gap steadily widens, so the chances become dimmer for people to live up to America being "a land of opportunity."

More Color

I love color. It defines shapes, sounds, things and life. And even though our society likes to pretend otherwise, it also defines people.

Walt Harrington examines an America cut along racial strands in A Family Portrait in Black & White, and the first impression is that he is apologizing for being white and therefore automatically privileged to gain access to worlds where minorities are often shut out. Hearing a racial joke, for example, makes him cringe. Seeing color, for him, is paying homage to a mindset he would rather not.

Harrington seems to seek refuge from his own self-hatred by maintaining an interracial marriage. Also, his experiencing things for the first time that black people have long been privy to is often funny, in a sad way. There are many examples of the accepted ignorance that white privilege creates. However, we find Harrington asking himself questions that would be so easy to sugarcoat with a milquetoast liberal response, but he instead answers with the unexpected--brutal honesty It's what you suspect he is thinking, but would never say. Such honesty, needless to say, is rare today in our society of shallow courtesy and deep resentment like a river undercurrent.

White and black social styles are different, which we can deal with. What we seem unwilling to confront, in our social policies and our private assumptions, are the much larger and harder-edged gulfs between economic classes. Harrington's realizations that poor blacks and whites have more in common with one another than with the wealthy, and his analyses of barriers to individual success put up by economically stressed communities, as opposed to racially segregated communities are brilliant and eye-opening.

Media Websites

2008-05-10T22:30:00.001-07:00

Summer 2003

Media Websites

By Mark Bryant

1. www.heroism.org. Dedicated to creating educational media and outreach programs that strengthen the fabric of our society. An introspective on the heroes, leaders and public figures of American history. Includes a chronicle of events, persons and places for each decade of the 1940’s to the 1980’s.

2. www.angelfire.com/journal/worldtour99/paynefund.html. The Payne Fund studies, a series of research analyses done on children between 1929 and 1932. This project examined the effects of movies on children. First breakthrough study ever conducted by media experts on a large segment of society.

3. www.utne.com. Alternative media group publishing provocative stories that differ radically from the perspectives of “mainstream” media. Contains a virtual online community that contains a bevy of topics for forum discussions. Most active online community in North America.

4. www.sfgate.com. This is the official website of the San Francisco chronicle. Local and international news. Guide to area’s entertainment and attractions, including sports teams as the San Francisco 49ers, Oakland Raiders, San Francisco Giants and Oakland Athletics.

5. www.well.com/user/mmcadams/online.newspapers.html. Do it yourself guide to writing, producing and formatting an online publication. Stresses the difference between print and online methodology. Advises publishers on how to cater to an online reader’s wants and sensitivities.

6. www.copyeditor.com/default.asp?id=3. Geared toward copy editors of magazines, newspapers, books and newsletters. Website of McMurry publishing firm; which consists of a publishing company, advertising agency and subscription-based newspaper. I consider this an excellent place to look for hose who want to pursue a career in writing but not sure where to start their search.

7. www.gwu.edu/~jmcq/. George Washington University website. Operated by School of Media and public affairs. Examines ethics, diversity issues, and research techniques in journalism.

8. www.writenews.com/. News, features and resources for media and publishing professionals. Contains scores of articles that pertain directly to media and publishing business. Contains updates on online companies and internet media guides.

9. http://www.ire.org. Dedicated to investigative journalism and in-depth reporting. A grassroots nonprofit organization. Offers membership and information on seminars and conferences.

10. http://www.fair.org. National media watch group offering criticism in an ongoing effort to correct media bias and imbalance. Constantly vigilant against media-generated myths and stereotypical information. Debunks media-generated lies and half-truths.

The Vast Influence of TV on American Culture in the 20th Century

2008-05-10T22:16:00.000-07:00

Summer 2003

The Vast Influence of TV on American Culture in the 20^th Century

By Mark Bryant

As Americans reached unprecedented prosperity by the twentieth century’s midpoint, people found more and more time for leisure activities and recreation than ever before. Consequently, the emphasis placed on entertainment increased exponentially. Leading the way was television, which had the greatest influence on American culture during the second half of the century.

Politically, television has been a deciding factor in the fates of candidates for public office since the Kennedy-Nixon debate in 1960.

In terms of societal matters, however, television has placed its’ indelible stamp on American culture in three distinct categories- behavior, lifestyle, and spending patterns.

BEHAVIOR OF VIEWERS

Television is generally regarded as particularly influential on behavior patterns and attitudes, especially children. America’s best teachers and scholars have concluded that television teaches more powerfully than any previous instrument in society (Skornia, 1965).

By the decade of the 1970’s, census data indicated that 96% of American homes had one or more television sets. The average home set was on more than six hours a day. Most adults and children reported watching at least two hours daily. For most people of all ages, viewing was a daily practice (Rubinstein, 1972).

Senator Thomas J. Dodd, chairman of the Senate Subcommittee to Investigate Juvenile Delinquency, was part of a task force in June 1961. He viewed excerpts of scenes of violence and sex with fellow committee members. The findings were that in an average week, 50% of prime time was devoted programs containing violence and sex. There are 130 million exposures to children 12 and under. Many of these children are saturated by these programs before they can read or write (Skornia, 1965).

The slogans, catchwords, phrases, mottoes and other lessons that children learn are not educational but commercial. The lessons and values which education offers then become compromised or diminished. Television places a high premium on emotional attachment. Children are not so much spectators of a film as they are co-actors. They live it (Skornia, 1965). A study done by Elizabeth Wurth in 1953 concluded that chld of 5 or 6 years of age is not sufficiently mature enough to be exposed to films without detriment to his personality development.

Studies repeatedly showed that a given program would harm one person but yet cause no apparent harm to another. Industry spokesmen tended to exploit these contradictions by defining and operating media using a one-size-fits-all generalization approach. The average then became the normal. According to Skornia, “Human beings cannot be averaged as if they were numbers. A small group of children done harm may will be more important an a thousand time as many children who are not done harm. The quantity criterion cited by industry does not holdup with human beings are at stake…Instances of people harmed by television will not be found in averages or statistics, but in hospitals and prisons. They are specific tragedies” (145).

Psychiatrists have lone concluded that matters that people do not take seriously affect them the most. Skornia concurs: “Courts have repeatedly declared that the power of motion pictures as organs of public opinion are not lessened by the fact that they are designed primarily to entertain” (148).

Television has the attraction because it contains moving images. Substantial evidence indicates that people will hypnotically continue watching. However, to say that continued viewing is an endorsement of whatever is being offered is to confuse the form with its’ content (Skornia, 1965).

In short, television is credited with information about the appropriate structure of society and thus the appropriate motives for behavior (Berger, 1987).

Skornia went one step further to warn that “farfetched as it may seem, historians of the future may conclude that never before was there a period during which control of the thinking of a nation was exercised in a more totalitarian manner, or by a smaller group, than it is now by television and radio” (145).

LIFESTYLE OF VIEWERS

Television fast became the cutting edge of American lifestyles. It was symbolic of seemingly newfound American affluence which earlier generations had been deprived of thanks to the Great Depression and World War II. Indeed, it represented a reward for years of forbearances (McDonald, 1990).

Television had a hand in making sports, music, goods and services, and a host of activities popular because of slick advertising and marketing that television aggressively pursued.

The Super Bowl has been declared an unofficial national holiday in light of not only the hype surrounding the game, but in terms of the commercialism and advertising around it. People who have a minimal interest in sports and therefore indifferent about the outcome of the game will tune in, because they want to see the commercials. The emphasis on companies soliciting items to be aired during this event has increased exponentially since the game’s inception in 1967.

Because television does not usually involve exclusive or focused attention except during stretches of the viewer’s choice, people can perform a wide range of activities while the set is on (Rubinstein, 1972). The viewer helps to determine a large part of what networks will consider offering to the public through the concept of ratings. Ratings are based on the premise that stations should broadcast ‘What The Public Wants’ (Skornia, 1965).

The characters depicted on the screen and in television shows are another matter. The fast life indicates a desire for such a life (Charters, 1934). Television places celebrities on a pedestal, treating them as society’s most valued members. It is well documented that on the basis of salary and prestige, show business people and sports figures are the most important people in the United States, with the exception of corporate executives.

These people are paid, imitated, adored and idolized on a grander scale than any profession in the country. They earn more wealth than scientists, artists, journalists, composers, teachers, doctors and government employees (Skornia, 1965). Skornia adds about stars: “If a character wishes to be interesting, he or she must have a past. Such fallen heroes can understand people in ways that others cannot” (154).

SPENDING PATTERNS OF VIEWERS

By noting which products the stars use, the public knows what products are most desirable and effective. The kinds of values these stars represent, however, are open to some discussion. According to Skornia: “Heroes, especially athletes, used to be associated and identified with wholesome food, regular hours, exercise and self discipline. Recently heroes are shown associated with soft drinks, shaving materials, beer, tobacco, automobiles and luxuries” (154). That could very well sum up today’s athlete/icon with the necessary insertion of rap videos, jewelry and drugs.

Buying and being a consumer of goods is the American way, and television has an inimitable way of attracting someone to spend. The spender knows he has a duty to free enterprise-capitalism-to spend, rather than save (Skornia, 1965). By strict conformity, viewers are urged to do as the person on the screen does in terms of choosing a name brand. Research proves that this is effective, and that people will do as they are shown (Skornia, 1965). Therefore, television has us linked to a capitalist ethic, and television has operated as a commercial billboard (McDonald, 1990).

Particularly susceptible to the pitfalls of consumer saturation are the middle and upper-class families, who have a higher level of income and therefore a larger pool of options for spending. According to psychologist Dan Kiley: “Peddlers blitz these families with an endless variety of one message: If you buy this, you will belong” (231).

Parents then are faced with the task having to explain that “a certain cereal will not transform them into great athletes as the highly paid announcer says, nor will the drug mentioned really cure hemorrhoids, or cancer, or arthritis. The announcer is really lying. Nor will certain cosmetics or cars guarantee success in romance as is implied (Skornia, p. 168).

CONCLUSION

Television was the most important social and cultural force in the Unite Sates in the mid to late twentieth century. Since it emerged in the late 1940’s as a nationally available medium of mass entertainment and information, it influenced millions of lives and shaped not only American politics, but also the economic and social matters of this society.

Works Cited

Kiley, Dan (1983. The Peter Pan Syndrome: me who have never grown up. Dodd, Mead &Company, New York.

Skornia, Harry J (1965). Television and society: an inquest and agenda for improvement. Mc Graw-Hill, New York.

Rubinstein, Eli, et al. (1972). Television and growing up: the impact of televised violence. Report to the Surgeon General, United States Public Health Service. US Government Printing Office, Washington DC.

McDonald, J. Fred (1990). One nation under television, the rise and decline of network TV. Pantheon Books, New York.

Berger, Arthur Asa (1987). Television in society. Transaction Books, New Brunswick, NJ.

Rise and Fall of Network TV

2008-05-10T22:08:00.001-07:00

Summer 2003

The Rise And Fall Of Network Television

By Mark Bryant

In the good old days of network television, virtually every choice was made for the viewer. The choices were made primarily on what the viewer would most likely tolerate, rather than what he or she really wanted. It was a simple, yet shallow strategy. In those days, television was synonymous with ABC, CBS and NBC, plus a few rerun-filled independent formats. There were only a handful of stations in any given market area. Local outlets were recognized by the network reruns and low budget commercials they ran for community merchants. ABC, CBS and NBC were the trio that ran national television.

There was security in this simplicity. In this system, the primary concern was which of three networks would out-rate the others and what new programming trends would appear next, such as comedies, westerns, detective stories or anthology dramas.

This was broadcasting purely for mass culture, a search for the largest possible audience at any given time. Those with tastes not shared by enough millions had little chance of seeing their preferences on television. Broadcasting in this form was done with a commercial incentive. The networks were in business to make money, and programs were designed to be profitable. The programs that failed to deliver high ratings and audience shares were discarded. The networks thus held a staunch bottom line.

After decades of continued success and wealth in the 1950's, 60's and 70's, however, American television changed. Old media empires fell into disarray while new ones climbed up the ladder. Audience numbers tumbled. Companies known for their newspapers, magazines, movies and telephones are now operating there own networks. Where profanity and nudity had been taboo, television now communicates such things freely and undeleted.

This has come after decades of sameness on national TV and the resulting diversity has created a new pecking order. Foreigners have brought up the most familiar institutions in American entertainment- from movie studios to record companies. American companies, meanwhile, are busy overseas entertaining foreigners.

The biggest example of this is Rupert Murdoch, native Australian and owner of the FOX Network. Murdoch bought the storied Los Angeles Dodgers baseball franchise in 1998. He is outspoken and known for tabloid journalism that appeals to today's sensationalist media. The FOX Network began televising National Football League games in 1994 and became an instant hit. Murdoch is generally known as the first global mogul of media.

As J. Fred McDonald, archivist and emeritus history professor stated "If viewers are deserting 'free TV', it is because they were never fully served by broadcasting in the first place" (1990).

The challenges to network television consisted of technological innovation and enhanced competition. What contributed to its' downfall were monopolistic media practices which placed standardization about diversity, and politics, both national and global.

The years of experimentation had passed by the 1960's and television had come of age. It was now a mature and streamlined business- a cash cow. The average household was using television five to six hours a day. Only sleeping occupied more human time.

Television was as lucrative as it was powerful. In 1963, the three networks and 565 stations in the United States pulled in 1.8 billion dollars in total revenue. CBS earned 555million, an increase of 700 percent over revenues in 1948. CBS in 1963 also pulled in 39 percent of all network business. NBC garnered 35 percent, ABC 26 percent.

National TV was firmly in place, and for the next two decades the main concern was the battle between three corporate giants locked in season after season of rivalry. McDonald noted: "There were countless citizens who felt abused and disenfranchised by a national utility that seemingly ignored their protestations" (1990). Overwhelming control of television was the name of the game to ABC, CBS and NBC.

The most successful operation was CBS. This network emphasized soap operas in the afternoon and sitcoms in the evening. According to Andrews and Dunning "there have been more sitcoms throughout history…except during a brief period when westerns were riding high, situation comedy has always been the major force on Television" (1980).

By 1964, CBS was charging $50,000 a prime time minute for advertisers. McDonald noted "Others…felt it regrettable that the scarce public airwaves were being manipulated so unabashedly to make greater and greater amounts of money…The loyalty was to the bottom line" (1990).

Thus, splicing and inserting advertising minutes, cutting quality here and there, subtle changes could mean millions of dollars when carried out over a whole year. As Dave Karp, television writer, noted: "TV is not an art form or cultural channel. It is an advertising medium…The (shows) are not supposed to be any good. They are supposed to make money" (McDonald, 1990). For all their flaws and vulnerability, the networks kept their grip on American television and profited heavily.

Beginning in the early 1970's, the networks were challenged with restrictions to their business operations and access to the national audience. These rules and laws were passed by the Federal Communications Commission, the White House and Congress. The resulting limitations on monopoly adversely affected network profits:

Prime Time Access Rule: Limited network TV to three prime-time hours per night in 50 largest markets. Created to help free-enterprise networks of affiliate stations and independent programmers. This was passed in April, 1970.

Finalcial interest and syndication rules: Networks were order to surrender all financial interest and syndication rights in any series not totally produced by them. Considered the most damaging attack against network TV monopoly in FCC history. Placed domestic and foreign syndication rights in hands of studios actually producing the programming, not the networks.

Restricted network production: Limited number of hours a network could fill even with their own productions. This was a settlement of a protracted hearing against NBC by the Department of Justice in 1975.

Ban on cigarette advertising: Enacted by Congress beginning January 2, 1971. Banned cigarette ads on television under pressure from consumer groups and professional medical associations.

After three decades, viewer loyalty to TV was in decline by the late 1970's. The prime time schedule had been streamlines into a few entertainment genres that had been worked and reworked for over 30 years to the point of repetitive quality. A TV Guide pool in the spring of 1979 showed that 44 percent of the American population was unhappy with TV. Said George Comstock, "There has been a definite decline in public satisfaction (in the last two decades). With each passing decade, the expression of public opinion favorable to television has declined" (1989).

National TV had never offered viewers what they wanted; it offered audiences what they most accepted. Audiences were to be as large as possible, shows as large as possible, and program content was to be as common as possible to attract viewers. This was a fatal flaw in network television that hastened its' decline.

Technological innovations emerged in the 1980's. Videocassette recorders, videotape, and camcorders became common. The increased use of satellites created a boom in able TV. Network cables offered programs from foreign countries, movies, sports programming, distant domestic stations and closed circuit feeds. Peter Conrad noted, "We have been almost persuaded not to accept the reality of anything unless we can experience it at second hand, mediated by the television cameras" (1982).

Home Box Office (HBO) debuted on September 30, 1975 at the Joe Frazier-Muhammad Ali heavyweight boxing championship bout-the "Thrilla In Manilla". Other companies followed suit. Ted Turner's WTBS station in Atlanta went satellite in December 1976. Showtime, a pay-cable network, debuted in March, 1978. By the eighties, cable delivering via satellite multiple programs was commonplace.

Cable offered new local and regional channels plus national networks devoted to specific topics and interests- news of he day, popular music, sports, religion, finance, politics, humor, travel, home shopping and weather. Cable could appeal to narrower cross sections of society, such as blacks, children, rock music fans, history buffs and sports fans in ways that network TV never could. Superstations such as WTBS, WGN (Chicago) and WWOR in New York flourished.

Meanwhile, in network television, Comstock summed it up by saying "Television has fallen in expressed public esteem. People watch more but think less highly of it" (1989).

How did three similarly programmed national networks satisfy a population as varied as the United States in the first place? There was a popular belief in he network hierarchy that commercial television was the best and highest standard that could be reached and that the networks were satisfying most of the people most of the time. But after three decades of the same genres and forms, it became apparent that this was not the case.

McDonald, J. Fred (1990). One nation under television, the rise and decline of network TV. Pantheon Books, New York.

Andrews, Bart and Brad Dunning (1980). The worst TV shows ever. E.P. Dutton, New York.

Conrad, Peter (1982). Television: the media and its manners. Routledge & Kegan Paul, Boston.

Comstock, George (1989). The evolution of American television. Sage Publications, Newbury Park, CA.

You Can't Tempt A Maverick

2008-05-10T21:57:00.000-07:00

Spring 2003

You Can't Tempt A Maverick

How the Powers The Be Unwittingly

Facilitated Raiders' Owner Al Davis' Move

To Los Angeles

By Mark Bryant

In the summer of 1982, after a long, bitter court battle, Oakland Raiders owner Al Davis won the rights to move his National Football League franchise to Los Angeles, which ended a profitable and successful twenty-two year stay in the Bay Area. Many football fans have never forgiven Davis for uprooting the game's most successful franchise.

Many have pointed to the franchise's transfer to Southern California as the main reason for the decline of the Raiders success on the field in the late 1980's through the 1990's. Many have excoriated Davis for violation the sacred trust of community and team. The fact remains that Davis was ill-served by the National Football League; namely commissioner Pete Rozelle; and accommodated woefully by the city government of Oakland. Both, along with others, failed to meet the franchise's needs even halfway.

The result of this was a thirteen-year "extended vacation" for the Raiders football team. What follows is a portrait of how Rozelle and the city of Oakland grossly underestimated Davis, helping bring about an era of change in the way NFL owners do business. Today, owners are even more so all about the "bottom line," because they know there's always greener grass, not to mention greener dollar amounts awaiting them in distant shores.

In the summer of 1978, Los Angeles Rams owner Carroll Rosenbloom announced he was moving his team from the Los Angeles Coliseum to Anaheim effective with the 1980 season. Rosenbloom cited declining attendance during the previous two seasons and also claimed that the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum Commission had not sufficiently met his demands for stadium improvements.

Rosenbloom did not seek league approval as was then league policy, he simply announced that his Rams would move to Anaheim Stadium in Orange County. This would set an ominous precedent for the Raiders, Rozelle, and the rest of the NFL, because he acted in pure defiance (Simmons, 174-75).

Speculation then mounted that another NFL team would seek greater Los Angeles as a home. Los Angeles Times columnist Jim Murray observed in his memoirs:

"The Raiders weren't the first to express interest in rushing into the L.A. vacancy. The Minnesota Vikings were. But the community there quickly sweetened the pot, promised a new stadium, keep the team. Robert Irsay, the Baltimore Colts owner, who had been dumb enough to effect a swap deal years before wherein he bought the L.A. Rams, then traded them even-up with Carroll Rosenbloom for Baltimore Colts, now lusted for a move to L.A."

But fear of reprisal by the league and alienation in their home ports kept these owners from actually bringing these plans to light (Murray, 165). Rozelle further endorsed Rosenbloom's Rams move to Anaheim by riling it a "suburban" move. In recent years, the New York Giants, Dallas, New England and Detroit franchises had all executed similar moves to new stadiums.

In order for a franchise to relocate, the NFL constitution stated in Rule 4.3 that an established team must gain a unanimous 28 votes. Twenty-one votes were required to move a team under the "suburban" clause.

Thus, for an NFL team to relocate and play in Los Angeles, a team would have to win approval by 28 votes, the number of franchises in the NFL in 1978 (Harris, 367).

Bill Robertson, member of the LAMCC, then approached Rozelle with the idea of getting a team to replace the Rams in the Coliseum. He received a less than enthusiastic answer; in fact Rozelle insinuated that not only would he do his best to discourage a team from relocating there. Also, Rozelle dropped hints that there was no guarantee if or when the NFL would expand next. Even if an expansion were to take place, Los Angeles would receive no more consideration initially than any other city without an NFL franchise (Harris, 388).

"They told Los Angeles to get in line with everyone else," a bitter Robertson said. (Harris, 394). From there, The LAMCC filed suit against the NFL, charging that the Rule 4.3 was an illegal restraint of trade and prevented the Coliseum form doing business with the NFL as desired (Simmons, 178).

While this was going on, Al Davis would soon drop the first gauntlet against Rozelle in October 1978. In the owners meeting to discuss the LAMCC lawsuit, the final vote was 27-0 with one abstention to change the approval for any franchise shift to 21 votes. The abstention vote belonged to Davis. He retorted to Rozelle: "If you are to call that unanimous, and it isn't, then I reserved my rights to move the Oakland Raiders as I see fit" (Harris, 402).

Davis maintained that he only said to the commissioner "I reserve my rights" (Simmons, 178). But the damage was done. The LAMCC eventually gave up the fight, but the Raider owner's lease was to expire following the 1979 season.

Many observers assumed that Davis was using the soon-to-be-vacant Los Angeles Coliseum merely as leverage against the City of Oakland, home of the Oakland Coliseum. On March 31 of that year, Davis mentioned to Rosenbloom that he was considering moving to Los Angeles. Three days later, Rosenbloom met an untimely death by drowning.

Rosenbloom's death had a significant impact on the possibilities of Davis moving. The Rams' owner had been considered a very powerful man within the league's infrastructure. It is speculated that Rosenbloom would not have come to Davis' aid, inasmuch as the Raider boss was disliked heavily around the league. More than likely, he would have double crossed him (Simmons, 179).

Rozelle had assured the City of Oakland that there was no serious possibility of Davis moving to Los Angeles and now convinced Georia Rosenbloom, the widow of Carroll, now in control of the Rams, that the Raiders were not coming to Los Angeles (Simmons, 180). Georgia had become upset after fans had waved a "Welcome Los Angeles Raiders" banner at the Raiders-Rams game on opening day of he 1979 season. This was precedent to a fan in Los Angeles-area bar yelling "The Los Angeles Raiders next year," As the Pittsburgh Steelers were winding down their Super Bowl win over the Rams at the end of that season (Los Angels Times, 15).

Meanwhile, Davis was expressing his usual dissatisfaction with the Oakland Coliseum Board and dropping his standard hints in the Bay Area press that the Coliseum was failing to meet his franchise's needs. Davis was further aggravated by his perception that the baseball Oakland A's received far better treatment in terms of home date, concessions and parking fees.

The A's, which had survived numerous threats by eccentric owner Charles O. Finley that he would relocate, had never drawn well at the Coliseum even as they were winning World Series in the early 1970's. The baseball-football configuration and multipurpose status of the Coliseum was also a disadvantage for the Raiders and for Al Davis, who by this time was seeking ways to gain added revenue in order to remain a leg up on his fellow owners.

"You know, they can talk about this guy and that guy, and this and that, but we all know who really built this stadium. We know who's had a commitment to excellence," said Davis (Harris, 438). "The last two years haven't gone as well as we would like (the Raiders had two disappointing- by their standards- seasons in 1978 and 1979) but we have done our part." Davis then added that the city and Coliseum Board were not doing their part (Harris, 439).

Few Oakland people seemed very concerned, because Davis had always been difficult to deal with in past negotiations, but had always eventually signed. This eime would not by any different, they reasoned (Simmons, 180).

Negotiations with Robertson of the LAMCC turned more serious in the 1980 off-season. Oakland powers-that-be continually denied the seriousness of Davis' wishes. Alameda County supervisor Joseph Bort expressed little concern: "Al Davis is rousing us to get a better deal for himself" (Simmons, 181).

Fellow supervisor Charles Santana did not share Bort's sentiments, as evidenced in Ira Simmons' book Black Knight: Al Davis and His Raiders:

"I think the bottom line is that somebody has got to talk to Al. Nothing is going to get settled this way. It's scary. We're to the point where Davis in essence can just say screw it."

To underscore this, Davis issued a warning to the Bay Area media on January 4, saying that the Oakland Coliseum Board "is a greedy organization." He also added an ominous warning that "this has gone on farther than you would assume" (Simmons, 181).

Davis then hired former San Francisco mayor Joseph Alioto, considered one of the best antitrust attorneys in the United States, as preparation for an all out court fight. On January 7, he met with Rozelle in New York. He reiterated that he would not seek league permission or a vote if he decided to move to Los Angeles. Rozelle responded that should Davis attempt to do so, severe penalties for violating league procedures could and would result (Harris, 467-68).

Now, the City of Oakland woke up to a ringing alarm (Harris, 472) and the result was that mayor Lionel Wilson established a task force to keep the Raiders in the East Bay. Jack Maltester, president of the Oakland Coliseum Board, scheduled a meeting with Davis on January 14.

One day prior to that meeting, Davis held a rare press conference in Oakland and proceeded to blast the OCB for failure to make him a priority. He then said: "The city that gets the team doesn't win you. The city that owns you now, loses you. The city that loses a team makes every effort next time not to lose. That's the situation with Los Angeles" (Simmons, 182).

Davis also compared his situation to baseball, saying that free agency was inevitable for pro football and that he wanted to be in the best possible place for financial prosperity and revenue opportunities should such a system come about tin the NFL. "I won't be somewhere where I can't compete," he said (Simmons, 183).

The feeling in the Bay Area by this time was that the Coliseum was entirely to blame for the situation. Oakland Tribune writer Dave Newhouse expressed pessimistic thoughts about an expansion team if the Raiders left Oakland and that Davis should be given what he desired (Simmons, 183).

But the Raiders rebuffed an offer by the city after Rozelle told the city to lower the financial agreements significantly. Rozelle did this because he was sure he would never allow Davis to move, regardless how bad the negotiations went in Oakland (Simmons, 187-88).

Mayor Harris then announced that the city was preparing an eminent domain suit to keep the Raiders in Oakland. If the eminent domain was to take place, the franchise would be taken away from Davis and his limited partnership and the city would assume control.

Davis, unmoved, signed an agreement to play in Los Angeles beginning with the 1980 season. He offered this as explanation: "Pro football in the 1980's must have comfortable stadiums. We didn't have any of the conveniences necessary to go forward in the Eighties. I don't mean to demean Oakland, but they're lagging behind" (Simmons, 183).

Despite the claims that Davis was merely using Oakland as ammunition to sweeten the pot in Los Angeles, and he same against Los Angeles for Oakland, there is evidence that Davis made every effort reasonable to remain in Oakland. He wanted the amenities- luxury boxes, club boxes, skybox seats- that were need to compete in the NFL's future. He gave Oakland plenty of opportunity to produce.

Oakland definitely couldn't match what Los Angeles group was offering in terms of monetary commitment, but this was mitigated by the proven fan base in the East Bay and Northern California. Once Rozelle's subterfuge caused the Oakland negotiations to sour, however, Davis' attitude changed (Simmons, 191-92).

Davis never asked for a ballot on his plan to move because he felt correctly that he would never gain league approval since Rozelle had stacked the deck against him. There were even reports that Rozelle wanted a Los Angeles expansion franchise for himself when he retired as commissioner, which he denied (Simmons, 193).

In the summer of 1980, the Raiders' plans to move to Los Angeles were placed on hold pending all the court activity and the eminent domain suit in Oakland. Meanwhile, the team continued to operate in the East Bay (Hession, 154).

The Raiders, forced to remain in Oakland, proceeded to win an improbable Super Bowl that season. Davis thoroughly enjoyed giving Rozelle his comeuppance as the commissioner was forced to hand him the Super Bowl trophy in the winning locker room in front of a national TV audience (Harris, 496).
In the 1981 off-season, the months were filled with litigation since all attempts at an out come court settlement were futile. On August 13, a mistrial was declared, which meant the Raiders would have to remain in Oakland for the upcoming season. In December of 1981, the Raiders rejected a lease proposal from the city of Oakland.

Then on May 7, 1982, a jury ruled in favor of the Raiders and Davis, clearing the way for a Raider move to Los Angeles. Oakland would attempt to force the eminent domain issue and force Davis' team back, but their bid was denied in appeals that took place over the next four years. "We showed Rozelle that you can't treat people like that," Alioto said jubilantly on the decision (Harris, 576). "When this is all said and done, I think the City of Oakland can sue Rozelle," Davis said (Harris, 577).

As precedent for the Raiders move, five other franchises would become dissatisfied with their stadium accommodations and move by century's end. The Baltimore Colts became the Indianapolis Colts and the St. Louis Cardinals became the Phoenix Cardinals. Then in a perverted display of Solomon-like wisdom, the NFL approved the move of he Cleveland Browns to Baltimore (to become the Ravens) and the Los Angeles Rams' move to St. Louis. The Houston Oilers would also relocate to Tennessee.

The vendetta of Rozelle against Davis ultimately cost the league millions of dollars and the commissioner's attempts to put the maverick owner in his place backfired mightily. The powers the be chose to underestimate Davis in taking him on and lost. In doing so, the map of football was changed dramatically.

Works Cited

Murray, Jim. Jim Murray: The Autobiography of the Pulitzer Prize Winning Sports

Columnist. New York: Macmillan, 1993.

Simmons, Ira. Black Knight: Al Davis and His Raiders. Rocklin, CA: Prima, 1990.

Harris, David. The League: The Rise And Decline of the NFL. New York: Bantam, 1986.

Hession, Joseph. Raiders: Collectors' Edition. San Francisco: Foghorn, 1991.

Los Angeles Times. "It Was Almost the Year of the Ram" 21 January 1980.

Let the Snake In

2008-05-10T21:39:00.000-07:00

Spring 2003

Let The Snake In

Ken Stabler Unjustly Excluded from Hall

By Mark Bryant

Except for Roger Staubach, there was no other NFL quarterback with a greater knack for come from behind wins than Kenny "The Snake" Stabler, until Joe Montana came along.

Except for the Pittsburgh Steelers, the Oakland Raiders' nemesis in the 1970's, The Snake would have in all likelihood won more than one Super Bowl ring.

Stabler, nonperil leader and point man for the most feared team in football during this era, was a colorful character and winner. He has been duly honored by being nominated as one of the 50 most significant Bay Area sports figures of the twentieth century.

The Snake is also remembered fondly by football fans for having the effervescent cool of a lion tamer as he time and again marched the Raiders down the field in the closing moments of some of the most famous finishes in football history.

Except for one glaring omission. The Snake has yet to be named to be the pinnacle of NFL careerdom- the Hall of Fame.

And national sentiment does not appear to be on his side, nor does it look to increase any time soon.

"Though he was an exciting quarterback, his time at the top was too short to merit serious consideration for the Hall of Fame," San Francisco Chronicle writer Glenn Dickey said in his biography of Raiders history: Just Win Baby: Al Davis And His Raiders.

Say what?

Ken Stabler was drafted by Oakland in 1968 from the University of Alabama, where he led the Crimson Tide to a national championship under the tutelage of legendary Paul "Bear" Bryant. He was a late-bloomer with the Raiders, because he was stuck behind Daryle Lamonica and George Blanda. He didn't get going until 1973, when Coach John Madden inserted him into the starting lineup to boost a suddenly anemic offense early in the season.

No such problems existed as long as the Snake was behind center. In seven years as the Raiders' starting quarterback, he led the Silver and Black to five straight AFC Championship Game appearances, five consecutive division titles and seven straight winning seasons.

NFL MVP in 1974. The Sporting News AFC player of the year in 1974 and 1976. A Super Bowl championship season in 1976. AFC All-Pro in 1973, 1974, 1976 and 1977. Still no call to the Hall.

A solidified reputation among his teammates and league peers alike for his unwavering coolness under pressure, as witnessed by the "Sea of Hands" playoff game against Miami in 1974, the come from behind playoff win against New England in 1976, the "Ghost to the Post" double overtime thriller against the Baltimore Colts in the 1977 playoffs, the "Holy Roller" game against San Diego won on the last play in 1978.

Countless other games in which he helped to pluck victory from the jaws of defeat. But the Hall of Fame? Not a smidgen of consideration.

The powers-that-be continue to shut out The Snake from enshrinement in the hallowed halls of Canton, Ohio while ridiculously citing lack of amassed statistical and noteworthy awards in relation to his contemporaries.

There are those that argue that The Snake has but a single Super Bowl ring, while Terry Bradshaw (four rings), Bob Griese and Roger Staubach (two rings each) and therefore their careers merited more Hall of Fame consideration than Stabler.

Even if the Raiders won "only" one Super Bowl during the years Stabler led them, they were still arguably the most compelling team in the league at that time, with their renegade reputation and entertaining style of play. Their image was both loved and hated by fans around the country. The Raiders, to this day, have never been confused with a lukewarm franchise that has won little or nothing of consequence, such as the Seattle Seahawks, Chicago/St. Louis/Phoenix/Arizona Cardinals, or New Orleans Saints.

And while Bradshaw won four rings with the Steelers, he is the first to admit that he benefited heavily from The Steel Curtain, the greatest and most punishing defense in NFL history. Bradshaw's numbers early in his career were sickening. In his rookie year, he threw for six touchdowns and 24 interceptions. Even during the first two Pittsburgh Super Bowl seasons, he was regarded as little more than a marginal QB who pulled handoff duty for Franco Harris.

Bradshaw's career numbers include 212 touchdown passes and 210 interceptions- hardly an overwhelming ratio. Would he get so much as a sniff of Canton if not for Harris, Lynn Swann, John Stallworth, Mean Joe Green, Rocky Bleier and Jack Lambert? I think not.

Griese has numbers that include 192 touchdown passes and 25,092 passing yards. Most fans forget, however, that it was not Griese who was the QB for most of Miami's perfect 1972 season- it was Earl Morrall. Griese was injured early in season but returned for the playoffs and Super Bowl that year. As with Bradshaw, Griese was surrounded by talent that included a bruising running game and a stifling defense. Throw out Larry Csonka, Mercury Morris, Jim Kiick and Nick Buoniconti, and Griese would be hard-pressed to possess even an above-average career.

Staubach's career is almost parallel to The Snake in that he had a belated start due to Navy service, plus the fact that he had to overcome the presence of Craig Morton, Don Meredith on the Dallas Cowboys' roster in his early years. Staubach led the Cowboys to four Super Bowl appearances and two world championships. His numbers in 10 years with Dallas include 22,700 yards passing and 153 touchdown passes.

Stabler's numbers? He threw for 150 touchdowns as a Raiders' quarterback and has 194 for his career. He threw for 27,938 yards in a career that spanned 15 seasons.

Those career numbers compare favorably with Bradshaw, Griese and Staubach, the only other quarterbacks to lead consistent Super Bowl champions or contenders during the 1970's. Though The Snake had a high interception rate (he was picked off 222 times), that is more of an indication of the Raiders' go-for-broke-style offense that Madden and owner Al Davis carefully crafted in those years.

The Snake's career off the field has been heavily scrutinized, as he was known as a carouser and a hearty partier. In other words, the anti-thesis of Staubach, who was and is a devoted family man and churchgoer. The Snake's calm bravado on the field was exceeded only by his wildness off it, a contradiction not lost on carious sportswriters who enjoyed taking him to task for his naughtiness.

Hey, ever hear of Bobby Layne? Now there was a notorious hard drinker and restless sour, and he's in the Hall. So are a host of other players who weren't exactly Sunday-school candidates.

The point is, the Hall should exist to honor players who brought credit to the game and their teams by their exploits on the field. The criteria shouldn't be whether a player was tucked in early on Saturday night, but whether he excelled on Sunday.

The Raiders won on Sunday, more often than not. In fact, they had the best won-lost record in the league during the reign of The Snake. The Raiders were a great team that played a sizable portion of memorable games during the time Stabler led them, and The Snake was instrumental in the Raiders winning most of those games. Need I say more?

Back in the late 1970's, Stabler and Davis began having a running battle that culminated in The Snake's premature end to his career in Oakland. It began with a sub-par Raiders 1978 season that would See John Madden retire at year's end due to the stress that had taken a toll on his health. Davis unmercifully criticized Stabler during a mediocre (by Raiders standards) 9-7 year and The Snake, not known for his diplomacy even in the best of times, lashed back.

In the off-season following that year, The Snake invited a Sacramento Bee reporter, Bob Padecky to his hometown in Alabama for a powwow after hearing that Padecky had written an attempted expose.. on Stabler's life off the field. One of The Snake's buddies allegedly planted cocaine in Padecky's rental car and Padecky was arrested, then let go when the cops realized the ruse.

The Snake has claimed that he was never able to find out exactly who the culprit was, but it is interesting that sportswriters, being the grudge-harboring sort they are, have continually played a major role in denying Stabler his rightful place among football's immortals in Canton.

Writers have a tendency not to forget things like that, and it seems the more controversial an athlete was during his career, it increases the likelihood that he will be treated with contempt—overt or subtle—once he can no longer take the field.

After several years, after Stabler's playing days had wound down in Houston and New Orleans, he was eventually able to patch things up with Davis, a remarkable feat when you consider that Davis is not exactly known for forgiveness (See: Marcus Allen).

If Davis can, why not the sportswriters who have a heavy influence on who is voted into the hallowed halls of Canton?

Will writers across the nation see the error of their ways and do the right thing by doing their part to include The Snake in the Hall?

At this point, we can only hope…and meanwhile, celebrate the greatness of The Snake with a toast and a smile. Snake, you ruled.

Have a drink on me, bud. You deserve it.