UM’s Randy Shannon Preps for Thursday Rivalry

Body language specialist Randy Shannon

On the eve of the 13th-ranked Miami Hurricanes’ biggest Thursday night home game of the season, head coach Randy Shannon graciously took time out of his hectic schedule to share insights on the season opener against Florida A&M. Occasionally surly, UM’s fourth-year man makes up for his lack of charisma, charm and overall personality with an incomparable sense of brevity and wholly original logic.

Said Shannon of Sunday’s practice, “We were a little bit sluggish today, which was good.”

Miami is a nearly three-touchdown favorite this week, but with a showdown against second-ranked Ohio State just 11 days away, coach expects his team to fly around a little bit, do great things and continue to improve, because that’s all you can do. Which is good.

The following are Shannon’s word-for-word answers responses to a barrage of heavy-hitting questions from local muckrakers at the Miami Herald and Rivals.com.

Was Saturday a work day or were you able to get some rest?

Work day. Always a work day, trying to get better in some way or fashion, which is good.

Now that you’ve settled on a preliminary depth chart, what do you think you have in this team?

Don’t know.

You said [true freshman LB] James Gaines really caught your attention in fall practice. Will he contribute this season?

Don’t know. He’s there. Practicing hard. That’s all you can say.

How many true freshmen could see time this year?

Don’t know.

Have you made a decision on Jacory’s backup?

Nope.

Tell us what it’s like to finally have [late commit, Rivals No. 15 overall, ATH] Latwan Anderson out there?

Didn’t do much. He’s in the pre-trial phase – his helmet – so really couldn’t do anything.

Your plans for him?

He’s a walk-on.

Wait. So you’ve hit the scholarship limit?

He’s a walk-on.

Will you play him?

He’s a walk-on.

What can you tell us about [true freshman DE] David Perry?

He’s a walk-on in the acclimation period.

You’ve moved Kylan Robinson to outside linebacker, correct?

Nickel situations he’s always outside. Sometimes he’s in the middle, sometimes outside.

And in base situations?

He’s been in the middle.

How do you get an idea of what FAMU will do on Thursday?

Just look at last year’s tape. That’s all you can do, and do what they’ve done the last three or four games of the season and base it off that. It’s going to be something new.

Tell us a little more.

We don’t know what FAMU is going to do.

What do you like about your team?

They didn’t hit the wall. The year we went 7-6, we hit a wall against Virginia – there was no way to get those guys out of it. [This year] we had a walkthrough at 10:30 at night, came back the next morning at 6 and they responded.

Will [senior middle linebacker] Colin McCarthy start on Thursday?

Depends on the game. I couldn’t tell you.

Tell us who’s in the mix to return kicks.

About eight of them.

Which unit is the FAMU game more important to?

The whole team.

Editor’s note: Special thanks to insider/Core Team member J. Franklin. Go ‘Canes.

- Robbie

About This Seventh Season of “Entourage”

Dealer on the line.

In case you haven’t heard/been watching, “Entourage” is back and – just maybe – better than ever. With the season seven finale just under two weeks away, I’ll take a look at the reasons why.

It’s the show that won’t seem to die, even though it’s kind of already given itself a pre-determined death date (Summer 2011 will be its final season).

Critics have been ready to write off HBO’s “Entourage” as repetitive fluff ever since the show dedicated itself to depicting the “Medellin” storyline that seemed to stretch on for forever. And for the most part, they have a valid argument. The show has been called visual junk food and episodic cocaine (irony later).

Through entertaining dialogue and a depiction of a male fantasy life, “Entourage” has strutted through six seasons by delivering similar plots.

Vince is offered the movie. A series of things happen to put Vince actually doing the movie in jeopardy. Vince ultimately gets the movie, the season ends and we start back the next season around premier time.

That’s not a formula that anyone on the show will deny. “Entourage” isn’t made to change the world. It’s made to entertain and have every blue-blooded 18 to 40-year-old male rushing to the nearest television set at 10:30 P.M. on Sunday nights.

Premium cable's dream team.

Ultimately, with only the season finale left in this year’s rendition, we could have about the same thing. But damn does it feel different.

The primary reason? Vinny Chase is in love.

After opening the season by doing his own stunt for the first time, Chase walks away from the scripted car crash feeling invincible. He goes skydiving, buys a motorcycle but then meets the one girl that can keep him content.

Now in almost any other situation, this would seem much more like it is an ending road for “Entourage” rather than a fresh beginning. Vinny in love would mean an actor finally tamed down after six years of running around and Tiger Woodsing his way through Hollywood. It would mean settling down to a lifestyle more similar to that of  best friend Eric Murphy than Jim Morrison.

Except this relationship has made Chase more dangerously raucous than ever before. Maybe it has something to do with the girlfriend in question being a porn star. Who knows?

Regardless, Vince has gone from being the happy-go-lucky nice guy movie star to a rebellious drug addict with virtually no loyalty to anyone other than his girlfriend (played by real-life “adult entertainer” Sasha Grey) and new pal Charlie Tweeder.

Yes, this guy. Eleven Years later.

Vince is easily agitated, completely care-free and often strung-out. He has chased away directors, made studios leery of his lifestyle and plunged the life of agent Ari Gold even deeper into hell. But this transformation has truly made Vince the marquee character of “Entourage” for the first time.

I know what you’re thinking, and yes, Vince has always technically been the main character of ‘Entourage.” His character is the reason the show exists and the reason why everybody involved has the life that they have.

But until this point, I would argue that he has never been the definitive star of the show. Gold gets the powerful, vulgarity-laden monologues that have won Jeremy Piven three Emmy’s, Drama and Turtle are a dynamic duo of slacker comedy and E is the hard-working sidekick who has become more due to his surplus of ambition.

Vince has just always kind of been there, funding his friends and doing what the “suits” tell him to.

“Suits” like Ari Gold who has plenty of his own quandaries going on in this seventh season. When the season began, Gold was on top of the world, running the biggest agency in Hollywood and on the brink of bringing an NFL franchise to Los Angeles. Gold’s big beginning would obviously only lead to his world crashing down.

By crashing down, I mean that his marriage is in shambles, his favorite client is no longer trustworthy and his entire public reputation has pretty much been trashed by a former assistant who has given the media tapes of offensive things that Gold has said over the years. Not to mention, by falsely accusing rival agent Amanda Daniels of releasing said tapes, he has ruined his chances at being any part of his NFL passion project.

These two storylines bring the most effective drama aspect to “Entourage” that the show has ever had. It has the legitimate feel that Vince could be rushed to the hospital or lose everything at any moment, and Ari may be brutally close to seeing his family walk out the door along with his “A-list” agent status.

Hell, we even saw Gold come close to shedding tears when he first saw his vulgar rants that were made public (think lots of “C” words and ‘P” words). Sunday’s episode included a restaurant confrontation scene between Gold and Daniels that was so well done it will make any man with professional or family goals absolutely cringe.

Warning: The following clip includes plenty of offensive language and could be taken off of the Internet at any second. That warning was for you, Mom.

Part of the restaurant meltdown scene.

Jeremy Piven called the scene the best thing that he has done in his seven years on the show. I know nothing about acting, but can’t deny that claim at all.

Yes, there’s still plenty of the fantasy aspect of “Entourage” to keep viewers entertained and cheerful in between Gold and Chase death wishes. A sober and married Billy Walsh has created a cartoon based around it’s lead character, Drama, and Turtle is pioneering for a tequilla company whose biggest problem is that its growing too fast and not quite ready for Mark Cuban’s investment.

There’s still the private jets, the mansions and some of the wittiest commentary yet. Each episode contains a ridiculous amount of celebrity guest stars which I do not even have the time to begin to name.

But things are different, and for a show with seven episodes and a film left in its existence, that’s proving to be a very good thing.

-Bryan

Buying Milk for Juliette Lewis

Do you ever stop for a second and wonder about the chain of events over the course of your life that’ve led you to one particular moment in time?

Happened to me recently — I was drinking in my kitchen with five high school friends/acquaintances I hadn’t seen since before I was cool. Cliques converged. I relived my worst 11th-grade nightmare.

Fast forward three or so months to Friday night, when I find myself leaning against a couch that smells like cheese in a Gainesville venue called, post-modernly, The Venue. It’s raining outside. The place next door is throwing a dayglow for white/white-clad students who A) wish they were older B) wish they could drink and C) are dressed for a Jim Jones style Kool-Aid bath, but will settle instead for sliming themselves with massive quantities of fluorescent paint.

So glad I was never 18.

The Venue is home for a night to Juliette Lewis & The Licks, who should not for a moment be confused for Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks on account of the former playing Joplin-meets-Ratt chick rock and the latter wallowing in post-Pavement guitar wankery.

Post Paint Boy/Not Juliette Lewis

Also, one has Juliette Lewis. IMDB = What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, Cape Fear, Natural Born Killers and the orthographically challenged Kalifornia.

Lewis propels my Friday evening narrative on account of hiring a merch hand who’s friends with my friend Brittany. He’s a real nice bro. I get in for free. I sit on a couch that smells like three-day-old Kraft Mac and Cheddar.

Long story short, Juliette Lewis (IMDB= Gil Grape, NBK, Whip It, Wonder Years, Brad Pitt vanity vehicle Kalifornia) gets a pre-set craving for 2% milk and yellow American Spirits in a contradictory attempt to gain muscle mass/contract lung cancer. Merch friend gets the order; Brittany offers to brave the rain/impending alcohol buzz to seek out said post-concert staples (NO BROWN M&Ms, DAMMIT!); Brittany’s friend Alan and I tag along.

Yes, I’m two/three degrees of separation from Pitt, Johnny Depp, Robert De Niro, Scorsese and Kevin Arnold, among others.

Although the ensuing milk ‘n cigs hunt included nothing grander than chugging malt liquor in a parking lot, chatting up a gas station clerk, running into my friend Ben, checking out an attractive redhead, and clumsily dodging two sets of cops, I did feel quite the rush from my accomplice role in scoring groceries for American film starlet Juliette “Jules” Lewis. I’m sure she enjoyed her midnight lactose fix and thought about all the hard work that went into procuring her somewhat obscure brand of smokes. She prbly dropped Britt’s name in an early morning convo with bff Brad Pitt, too.

Lewis with Tyler Durden.

My sincerest thanks to the really nice merch guy who got me in (for free). You are a very nice/hard working guy.

Have you ever scored cigs for Juliette Lewis?

How many degrees are you from Johnny Depp/Winnie Cooper?

Is drinking Old English out of a bag in a Gainesville parking lot the real-life equivalent of famed American director Richard Linklater’s “Dazed and Confused”?

Would you ever name a music venue The Venue, or is it too obvious to be “ironic”?

Do random question lists make for a more engaging reader experience?

How do you rate JLewis’s turn as Ruby in Cold Creek Manor?

Have you ever done mushrooms/acid/hallucinogenic brownies?

This bro who’s watching his eco lecture without earbuds in the library — should I “confront” him?

Is it true that fratbros don’t have a soul/are possessed by Satan?

- Not a Bryan Holt post

Strasburg Expiration Date: 8/21

Thanks for all the great times, Steve.

Who do you feel worse for: Stephen Strasburg, the guy who dropped a half-mill on his Topps RC, or the President – you know, because nothing’s going right in Washington these days?

I’m striking off option one, because if The Strasburg’s career only lasts 12 Big League starts, he’ll have pocketed a cool $222K per inning. As Robert Reich might say, “He’s in the top 1 percent of earners.”

I’m also striking off option two, because hey, we knew the guy who pawned his house on eBay to buy a baseball card was a dipsh*t from the beginning.

Worse investment than MSFT

So that leaves me the most distraught for my friend and yours, President Barack “You’re Killin’ Me, Pelosi” Obama. I mean, damn, wasn’t universal health care supposed to preempt this kinda stuff?

For those of you who’ve yet to run into Tim Kurkjian (look down, he’s there), Nationals one-time phenon, current Prior/Wood legacy Stephen Strasburg probably needs reconstructive elbow surgery on the same arm he uses to throw a baseball 103 mph.

Strasburg was initially diagnosed with a strained flexor tendon, but given manager Jim Riggleman’s track record and the Curse of Larry Walker, we all knew a week ago that no. 37 was making a beeline for Doc Andrews. Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t get run over by the team bus.

Prognosis: torn ligament. Surgery: Tommy John. Rehab: 12-18 months. Hilson Medical Forecast: not good.

Now you’ll hear a lot of talking heads tell you today that this is not the end of the world, that guys come back “stronger than ever,” that D.C. natives “shouldn’t even consider blowing up their new stadium and drinking themselves into oblivion.”

They’ll point to TJ success stories John Smoltz, Tim Hudson, Josh Johnson, Chris Carpenter, Mo Rivera, Billy Wagner. They’ll say, “It’s the shoulder you have to worry about,” though will fail to mention that Strasburg was first put on the DL for – you guessed it – tightness in his shoulder.

Red Sox great/Robb Hilson lookalike John Smoltz

Buster Olney won’t, however, tell you about Jays closer BJ Ryan, who signed for 23 bazillion dollars, blew out his elbow, dominated the year of his return… then fell off the face of the earth. Ryan’s out of baseball.

And Jay Mariotti won’t tell you about former Rangers closer Jeff Zimmerman, probably because he’s going to jail. But if Jay hadn’t pummeled his girlfriend, he might be more open to telling you that Zimmerman underwent TJ in ’02 and never threw another pitch.

It’s true that a lot of pitchers retain their stuff – some, like Hudson, return as bionic K-makers. It’s also true that you don’t hear about the guys who don’t. Because some disappear forever.

I know one thing for sure: in sports, 18 months is an eternity. And so Nats fans, who will watch their godforsaken ball team finish dead last in the division for the fifth time in six year, have absolutely zero reason to check in till roughly Spring Training 2012. Even then, only to hold their breath for the next fateful pitch.

27-year-old has-been Edinson Volquez

GM Mike Rizzo, in perhaps the greatest understatement since Julia Lennon said, “My son has a future,” told reporters that Strasburg was “as you can imagine, initially upset.”

Adding, “The rest of us looked for high places.’”

Rizzo said no worries – that the injury was an isolated incident, not the product of overwork or gradual strain…

And that’s suppose to make me feel better?

Sorry, I don’t take a lot of solace in the fact that my franchise savior could decombust at any second. Nor am I thrilled that young guys who throw 100 mile-per-hour aspirin in their formative years have the shelf-life of a carton of eggnog.

What say you, Joel Zumaya?

My free advice to Bryce Harper: quit while you’re ahead. My free advice to Nats fans: step away from the ledge.

I’m feelin’ skeptical y’all. Have a foreboding weekend.

- Robbie

Stop it, NFL. You’re Beautiful the Way You Are.

"This isn't quite going how I planned."

Hey, I got an idea. Let’s take the formula that has molded the most successful and popular American sports league over the past 32 years and change it around a little bit.

I’ll go ahead and pretend that this is the exact way that the thought of changing the NFL regular season from 16 to 18 games ran through the head of league commisioner Roger Goodell.

It is this thought that has taken over NFL news this preseason and, more specifically, this week. The media seems to be fascinated by the idea of Goodell spitting in the face of the old smart business cliche, “If it ain’t broke,…” Well, you know. And it’s not just the media and Goodell on-board. No, it’s the owners and team executives as well. In fact it seems to be almost everyone except one group that might be kinda important.

Mr. Goodell, I’d like to introduce you to your players.

Goodell’s big Wednesday owner meeting in which he was hoping to have the new policy voted on came to an indecisive conclusion when owners decided that they would wait until players came around on the idea. An event that probably isn’t happening any time soon.

And they have good reason not to.

After all, preseason is the one time of the year that is completely designed for players, specifically the young ones. It’s the chance for guys to make teams and adjust or re-adjust to the speed of the NFL. No, it’s not the sexiest time of the year, or the best time to catch a game on TV, but it’s not really supposed to be.

With two preseason games, starters would need to play more to assure that they are ready for opening day. This leaves a vastly less amount of time for the guys who actually need the preseason reps.

Less Tebow = Bad Thing

From a fan/spectator point of view, it’s very easy to say that these third and fourth-string guys are irrelevant. That they’re just putting off their obligatory careers as bartenders or truck drivers.

Try telling that to Tom Brady or Priest Holmes or Tony Romo, all guys who spent their rookie year buried deep down on depth charts. Do they ever even make the NFL with a two game preseason? Maybe so, maybe not.

But the NFL isn’t pitching this deal as one for the players, it’s pitching it as a rewarding change for the fans.

So fans have to be totally buying into this, right? Maybe not so much.

ESPN fan polls have shown all day that fans are almost 50/50 on whether or not they are actually in favor of changing the preseason/regular season ratio from 4:16 to 2:18, a stat that has had “Sportscenter” anchors going crazy for hours.

Even though I’m only really speaking for myself here, I’ll pretend that I am speaking for all fans.

Having four preseason games is not a big deal. If you’re a die-hard fan (read: nerd) like myself, it gives you an opportunity to kick back, relax and focus on some of your favorite team’s depth chart battles and future talent. If you’re not so die-hard, you can watch the first quarter and then pretend like the rest isn’t happening. Works for everybody.

The NFL’s problem is that they are trying to pretend that this deal is for the fans and not for its wallet. This is a money move and there’s no other explanation.

Teams obviously don’t want to cut their amount of total games because of revenue, but they would like people spending more money than they typically do at preseason games. Attendance typically lags at the annual exhibitions that carry the same monetary face value on the tickets.

Eighteen regular season games means more money and more television. Just ask Lizzie Grant from “Entourage.”

I suddenly feel the need for an 18-game regular season. Focus, Bryan

Money. More than competition. More than smiling fans. This is money.

If the NFL truly wanted to make a deal for the fans, it would discontinue its status as the only league that charges the same price for preseason games as it does regular season.

Make the players happy and keep the regular season at 16 games. Make the fans happy and cut a little bit off of the $100+ that many pay to go to an exhibition game. Or maybe make it so season ticket holders can’t be forced to purchase the $100+ preseason tickets every year as they currently are.

It’s a win for everyone. Well, everyone except the NFL’s wallet.

-Bryan

Me and MJ Ride the Bus

Like me, except cooler, blacker and more talented.

As some of you already know, I’m raking in obscene amounts of cash working for the sugar-daddy, Big Ag wing of the University of Florida. This is important for you, the Casualtist, because A) our entire female readership can count on me for free drinks at The Top Thursday and B) I’m now mildly inspired to remove our soft-core cartoon ads from the right sidebar.

Look at them. Aren’t they cute?

Click on them.

Seriously, do it.

For me.

So this was the first day of my roughly 24-year existence spent at a traditional desk job – plugging away as an underling for the dean of research at the Institute of Agriculture and Food Science. If today was indicative of the typical white collar experience, I really don’t understand what all the fuss and bad rap are about. Sure, I went all day without catching a ray of sunlight. Sure, I couldn’t “drink on the job” or “walk around in my underwear.”

But working for The Man has its serious perks. For one, I have to start shaving regularly, which means when I finally let this puppy go on Dec. 31 (to celebrate the ‘Canes Orange Bowl birth), I’ll be lookin’ a regular Jim Morrison by the first week of spring semester.

Break on through, ladies.

I’m also really digging these “pants,” as they’re called. Totally less restrictive than skinny jeans. I can feel everything.

Haven’t really hit on any tangible benefits aside from the aforementioned aesthetic concerns, but the short-lived ego boost was nice. Gotta say, I kinda felt like Michael Jordan…

On his first day in the minors.

Was I the main attraction? Sure. Was I charming? Come on. Did I know what I was doing?

Of course not.

(Just kidding, Scott. If you’re reading, I totally feel like I spent 7 1/2 of those 8 1/2 hours being constructive… and the other hour almost crashing your website. Again, my sincerest apologies. And sweet hoodie.)

But you know, as I was sitting there in front of a double-wide computer firing off little blurbs of genius (read: gingerly editing the IFAS home page), I got to asking myself, what would MJ do in this situation?

If we went solely by last night’s ESPN “30 for 30″ doc, the answer is “mould myself into the greatest damn copywriter in the history of paper pushers.”

Like this guy.

Now I’m not sure if “Jordan Rides the Bus” was a totally accurate depiction of the man’s stint as minor league ball extraordinaire (b/c that’s exactly how they painted him by the end, an extraordinaire), but MJ’s story is both baffling and inspiring irrespective of statistical success.

I vaguely remember the day Jordan announced his first retirement and looking back on it now is no less unbelievable than it was on that fateful day in October ’93. At the time, MJ was the best player in the league, arguably the greatest of all-time, in his prime, the face of American sports and the first global icon to boot.

Two lowlifes murder his father on the side of the road in Nowhere, NC. All of sudden the most famous person on the planet is slumming it in some hick town in Alabama, trying to prove himself at a game he hasn’t played since 18.

I still can’t wrap my head around it. Imagine Bono quitting U2 in the early 90′s to hone his punk chops with the Butthole Surfers. Or the Pope stepping down to join a buddhist monastery in Tibet. That’s essentially what happened.

The greatest athlete in the world, at his late father’s behest, walks out on a reigning three-time champion to play baseball with a bunch of nobodies who 1) idolize him and 2) think he’s a joke. Say what you want about MJ’s arrogance – he thinks he can do WHAT? - but the guy had balls the size of watermelons and the thick skin to match.

Jordan was a joke at first. Yet he carried that fanatical competitive burn from the court to the cages, and by the end of this whole whimsical experiment, he’d hit .255 and stolen 30 bases against the best Big League prospects around. Barons manager Terry Francona swore he would’ve made the Majors.

If only. If only he didn’t spend the next 3 1/2 years pummeling the rest of NBA into oblivion. Jordan’s time in the minors should count for his legacy, not against it. That his basketball comeback solidified his status as the greatest competitor ever renders the issue moot.

Byron Russell still taping ankles.

I wanna dominate this copy editor position. Then I’m taking on microbio. Remember, ladies: the tab’s “Hilson”. See you tomorrow.

- Robbie

Scott Kazmir Sucks, But Why?

A foreshadowing? Maybe.

The career of Los Angeles Angels pitcher Scott Kazmir has been one full of great potential and greater letdown.

Kazmir was drafted on June 4, 2002, by the New York Mets in the first round of the MLB draft. Eight years, two months and 20 days later, he is with his third franchise and holding a record of 8-11 with a 6.33 ERA and 60 walks.

What has transpired in the middle of these two dates can at the very least be called sketchy.

Kazmir was hyped to an enormous level as the next big thing while in the New York Mets minor league system. And by all accounts, he had what it took to fulfill that hype and more. That’s why it was so shocking for so many people when the Mets sent Kazmir and Joselo Diaz to the Tampa Bay Devil Rays in exchange for Victor Zambrano and Bartolome Fortunato.

Diaz was a minor leaguer who would never materialize into a major league regular. Fortunato was a 29-year-old rookie who now spends his time on the diamonds of the independent Golden Baseball League.

But this deal was completely about Zambrano and Kazmir, and that idea was sickening for New Yorkers. Kazmir was a future star. Zambrano was a dud who led the American League in walks and wild pitches two years in a row.

While the Mets blame their acquisition of Zambrano on the fact that the Devil Rays lied to them about his health and abilities, they credit their desire to get rid of Kazmir to one thing, marijuana.

The Mets were aware of several reports of Kazmir using marijuana during his time in the minors along with a number of other off-the-field lifestyle issues. They thought that he would not be able to succeed in a city with as many temptations as New York. These concerns were documented in Adam Rubin’s 2006 book, “Pedro, Carlos and Omar.”

Kazmir, post-bong hit.

For me, Kazmir’s time with the Devil Rays/Rays can be broken up into two separate eras. The era when the Rays were terrible, and then 2008/2009.

While the Devil Rays wore green and were still the laughing stock of baseball, Kazmir was almost treated like a side-show. He was the ace and one of the only players on the team worth watching. People were so amused by his strikeouts that they failed to realize he was rarely making it past the fifth or sixth inning. A free Papa John’s pizza (10 strikeouts) was more important than a last place team’s game anyways.

But then came the next era.

The now-Rays were competing, James Shields was blasting the Red Sox and Jonny Gomes was tackling Yankee outfielders. Things were serious for the first time in the history of the franchise.

While his numbers wern’t at all bad (12-8, 3.49 ERA), Kazmir’s starts became brutally nerve-racking. His pitch counts raced quickly early in the game, he often spotted 2-3 run leads with no control in the opening innings and he drained the bullpen in crucial series. He brought more of the same, except worse, in 2009 and the Rays quietly began finding a way to move him out.

When the time came, the Rays were able to send Kazmir and the $20+ million remaining on his contract to the Angels for two minor leaguers and Sean Rodriguez, who has contributed heavily to the Rays’ 2010 efforts as a utility man.

But was Kazmir’s downfall the only reason why Tampa Bay was eager to ship a franchise cornerstone to the other coast? Not according to a report revealed yesterday by Cork Gaines of Rays Index.

According to the report which came from “two sources close to the Rays,” Kazmir was removed from the team because of the bad influence that he was on a number of its younger players. Most importantly, David Price. Kazmir’s primary smoking buddy had allegedly been Edwin Jackson who was traded at the end of 2008 for outfielder Matt Joyce.

From kush to Cy Young?

Wrote Gaines:

According to our sources, it was accepted among those close to the Rays that prior to the 2009 season, Kazmir liked to partake in illegal recreational activities with his good friend Edwin Jackson. It is unclear if this played a factor in Jackson being traded prior to the 2009 season. We will let you draw your own conclusions on that one.

More importantly, when Kazmir and Price became friends during the 2009 season, the Rays apparently grew concerned.

I’m almost never a fan of anonymous sources, but this story mixed with the one previously told by Rubin almost seems to make too much sense. Kazmir has always had the talent and “stuff” to be special. But time and time again, it has been his decision-making that has sent him to the dugout. Whether it be his awkward refusal to truly go after any batter, or his mind-boggling decision to basically kill off a slider that was once one of his most dangerous pitches, the Scott Kazmir story just hasn’t made an ounce of sense.

Just trying to analyze it makes me all dazed and confused…

-Bryan

SC Beer Summit Minutes

Add 20 degrees and rain.

More beer. Less summit.

So I and professional sh*t-shooter Bryan Holt convened this afternoon to discuss, among other things, the death of print journalism, hot girls, internships, jobs, Espanol, TNA Wrestling, and of course, the life blood of Gainesville, FL (and the internet in general), Sports Casualties.

While I’m still trying to wrap my head around all the offhand genius to which I was privy, I’ve since come to the definitive conclusion that…

Actually, we didn’t come to any conclusions. Holt’s still trying to cope with the demands of economics, foreign language homework and living across the street from crazy people, and I’m still in the throes of a panic attack that started last Friday.

Deep breath, Casualtists.

Bottom line is SC will not be the block text-laden, in-depth think tank (stop laughing) you’ve come to know and love for, at least this week. And probably the entire semester.

I know that was an ambiguous paragraph. No, I’m not changing it.

“Does that mean my favorite website will cease to exist?” you ask in sheer terror.

To which I respond, are you f*ckin’ serious?

It certainly will, but for the time being, in a heavily modified format. Think shorter, lazier, more accessible… i.e. more “bloggy.”

Of course, if someone wants to throw a big block grant at us, we could certainly be persuaded to change said arrangements.

Stick around because, at some point, we’ll be back in full force to fill that giant sports hole in your heart. We’ll keep you up to date on our hiatus/non-hiatus, but for now, I leave you all with a big, steaming heap of my very sincerest appreciation.

Thanks for reading.

- Robbie

Favre: An Unfocused Look at the Past Week in the World

Yep, it's that time again.

Writing about a week of sports that I didn’t watch. This should work out well. Robbie’s already here and, as Holden Caulfield would say, suave as hell.

Does anybody know what happened this week? I sure don’t.

For the past three days, I have been on something of a concert road trip. By this I mean that I have spent my time in the finest array of run-down dive bars and low-rent theaters that the great state of Florida has to offer. All in the name of seeing a band that you’ve probably never heard of before.

If I was a polished music critic a la Hilson, I’d tell you that the Benjy Davis Project is a delightful blend of blues and alternative southern rock. They mix the honest simplicity of down-home music with the metaphorical complexity of something much deeper. I could tell you hat they sound like the love child of B.B. King and Ronnie Van Zant if that love child was raised around a plethora of second-hand smoke from funny cigarettes.

But I’m not a polished music critic, so I’ll just say that they kick ass, and you should buy their CDs/go to their shows. If you go to more than one show in a row, they just might buy you some shots of Jack Daniels, or a restraining order.

Coming to a town near you. Or maybe not.

Music critic time over. Let’s talk about the week.

Brett Favre is back.

That’s all. Have a good weekend.

I’m just kidding, sorta.

The poster boy for grizzly veterans everywhere had his obligatory “look at me” day when he made the most important flight in the history of the world from Mississippi to Minnesota. The trip was covered in real time by ESPN complete with Rachel Nichols hanging onto the plane’s wing for dear life (and awesome, in-depth coverage).

The stalking reporter.

It was later revealed to the media that Favre was hesitant to come back because he “does not trust” head coach and all-around goon Brad Childress.

DISCLAIMER: This post was started on the traditional Friday but is now being continued on Saturday. Lesson of the day: Always put play before work.

When asked why he doesn’t care for Childress, Favre cited a number of episodes of “To Catch a Predator.”

The Favre/Childress reports came from an anonymous source in the Vikings locker room. This is further proof that the Vikings are the NFLs resident sketch-balls. Far too much stuff comes out of their locker room without any names credited. There’s only one possible explanation. “Player X” of “ESPN the Magazine” fame is Percy Harvin. I knew it!

Seriousy though, Vikings. Stop it. Snitches (and Eli Manning) get stitches.

Yup, we got a bleeder.

Congratulations to bulls for breaking a 2,200-year losing streak. And Navy thought they had it bad against Notre Dame.

I watched “Hard Knocks” for the first time this season on Wednesday. I now have the sudden urge to yell offensive profanities at all times.

As you probably know, former nice-guy coach Tony Dungy made news this week when he criticized the Jets coaching staff and particularly head coach Rex Ryan for the amount of foul language used on the show. Dungy said that he would not want a Rex Ryan on his coaching staff and he doesn’t care for the way they run things.

Dungy even went as far as to say that commissioner Roger Goodell should get involved. Rex Ryan has since invited Dungy out to a Jets practice, an invitation which Dungy eventually accepted.

My thoughts?

Dungy is out of line here and this is none of his business. Every coach is different. Not everyone can do things with the laid-back (read: boring) demeanor that Dungy did. And that’s a very good thing.

Maybe Ryan actually fires his players up, something that Dungy (and clone Jim Caldwell) often failed to do during their years of making great teams average. Yes, I remember their Super Bowl, that was the exception. They had the team to become a dynasty.

The Jets are certainly building up plenty of hype for themselves with this HBO show, however. They’re cocky and confident, until you ask them to name their children.

Proud father.

In “OMG! GOSSIP!” news of the week, pictures have been released of country singer Kenny Chesney on vacation in Mexico with ESPN sideline girl (and proud UF grad) Jenn Brown. Said Chesney, “Take that, gay rumors.”

Beats the hell out of Renee Zellweger (or Tim McGraw).

BIG NEWS: A major college football program is leaving its conference. Oh nevermind, it’s just BYU.

About time to wrap up the shortest Week in Review ever. My apologies for sucking this week, I’ve barely watched any sports. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!?!?

Now excuse me while I go early vote in the crappiest primary election ever and get ready for tonight’s Bucs home opener.

Stick it to the man. Happy Saturday.

-Bryan

“Second Best” and Other Google Trends: The Week in Review

Hey, at last we're still good at something.

The Week in Review: more anticipated than a Klitschko/Briggs fight.

Is it just me, or does the 8 a.m. SportsCenter look identical to the 10 a.m. SportsCenter? I woke up this morning thinking to myself, “Seize the day, Hilson,” only to find out that the sole tangible differences between morning and late morning are less sun and more Robert Flores.

That’s not a trade-off I’m willing to make.

Unfortunately, I have no say in the matter. School starts Monday at the second best learning institution in the state, which means this is a perfect time to tell you that I now attend… the second best learning institution in the state.

Fun fact: if you were to airlift the entire University of Florida and plop it down in New Orleans, the University of Florida would be the… wait for it… second best school in New Orleans.

But the first best school at drinking!

Atta boy.

Seriously, though, it was quite a shock to the system – my ego system, that is – to find that Gator Nation has fallen to No. 55 in the latest U.S. News and World Report college rankings. Now we could chalk this up to budget shortfalls, mass exodus of institutional memory, the girls getting hotter (never a good sign for academics), or the on-campus prison (aka “Ben Hill Griffin”).

But I’m pretty sure they just realized, “Hey, Hilson graduates in the spring.”

God willing.

To add insult to injury – and cliches to Week in Review – The University of Miami, led by Donna “Who Is Michael Irvin?” Shalala, catapulted itself up to No. 47, both to mock the great Michael Irvin and to announce to the world that “We’re an academic institution, homie.”

Uncle Luke is distraught.

So distraught he's chillin with white people.

How bad is it getting in Gainesville, you ask?

“Saw IV.” Film department. Doctoral program. Nuff said.

Hell of a role reversal, huh? Remember when the ‘Canes were good at football and the Gators fell back on academics?

Miami’s new theme song:

Wrapped Up In Books

Florida’s new theme song:

Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue

My new theme song:

Oh S***

And we’re off!

__________

ESPN’s Bobby Valentine spent the weekend calling the regional qualifiers for this year’s Little League World Series…

where he was surrounded by people with similar sensibilities.

12-year-old.

On Sunday during Twins-A’s, Minnesota manager Ron Gardenhire pulled pitcher Kevin Slowey after seven innings and 106 pitches of no-hit ball. Said a rather blase Gardenhire afterward, “Geeze, it’s 2010. He’ll get one next week.”

In karma is a bitch news, Heat forward Udonis “Puffy” Haslem was arrested late Sunday night for possession of 20 grams of marijuana. Police have kept the investigation open, though, maintaining that faults of teammates can usually be pinned on LeBron.

Funny, huh? Turns out a little weed might be the only thing slowing down the Heat fast break. Then again, a little a weed slows down everything.

Say what you want about Michael Beasley, but the guy never got buste

Nevermind.

Uh, Mike, you forgot to put something away.

In No Sh*t Ticker Headlines Death Match news…

*video game voice*

ESPN: “U.S. Ryder Cup captain Corey Pavin says Tiger Woods is high on his list for one of his four captain’s picks”

VS.

ESPN: “Source: Favre doesn’t trust Childress”

On Tuesday, Vikings players led by Ryan Longwell, Jared Allen and Steve Hutchinson visited Brett Favre in Mississippi to ask simply,

“Straight leg or loose fit?”

It's a Wranglers joke.

On Tuesday, ESPN’s “Outside The Lines” released an investigation stating that Major League umpires get “only” 80 percent of close calls correct.

Excuse me, “only?” Is this not the same sport that rewards 70 percent failure rates?

Kudos, umps. Bang up job.

Said FIFA officials of the report: “They really need instant replay.”

New York Giants outfielder Bobby Thomson, who hit arguably the most famous home run in history to win the 1951 NL pennant, died at 86 on Tuesday.

Willie Mays, 79, is on deck.

When baseball was king.

This week Denver forward Carmelo Anthony hinted that he will pass on the Nuggets’ 3-year, $65 million extension to become a potentially New York-bound free agent in the offseason.

Jim Gray is prepping softballs as we speak.

"Tell us 'Melo, do you still bite your nails?"

On Wendesday, Atlanta sports legend Jason Heyward hit his third walk-off base hit of the season to break a 2-2 tie against the Nationals. Afterward, Heyward thought about thanking God, but God was like, “No man, it’s all you.”

Sticking with Hotlanta, the Braves acquired Cubs all-star first baseman Derrek Lee on Wednesday afternoon for three prospects. Lee is only hitting .251, but we basically just brought him in to pick a fight should Kenshin Kawakami ever return.

a la this incident

ESPN’s Bob Ley reported Thursday on “Outside the Lines” that Yankee great Lou Gehrig didn’t actually suffer from ALS… which means Lou Gehrig didn’t actually die from…

Yeah, you got it.

In non sequitur news, it’s summer in G-Vegas.

As of 5:58 p.m.

Earlier this week, Super Bowl winning coach and all around holy man Tony Dungy told Dan Patrick he would not hire Jets coach Rex Ryan due to his penchant for vulgarity and cursing.

Showing remorse, Ryan notably toned down his act on HBO’s “Hard Knocks” Wednesday, telling reporters he was “real fu*kin’ sorry.”

Fans of animals were heartened Friday when a bullfight in Navarra, Spain ended with

the bull winning.

Let’s play BETTER BULL!

Better hops:

’87 Jordan?

’04 John Bull

or 2010 bull?

mad hops at :09

Better gore:

2008 Frank?

2006 Al?

or 2010 bull?

mad gore at :25

If you’re in a sorority, hit me up: I’m willing to overlook most of your detestable qualities. See you again in an indeterminate length of time.

- Robbie