The Write Stuff?

I've been doing the "anonymous internet writer" bit for almost eight years. In that time, I've been accused of (among other things):

• Overusing adverbs.
• Leaning too heavily on and/or forcing alliteration.
• Taking too long to get to the point.

All fair points, I suppose. Hell, when people start calling me out for adverbs, the least I can do is consider their comments.

And, then I stumbled across one of those "Analyze Your Writing" sites. I fed it my last few travel diaries and my "Open Letter" to Jalen, discovering:

I write like
Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I don't read fiction, so I only know Stephen King's recent work from his often-unreadable column in Entertainment Weekly. For all I know, "Analyze Your Writing" could be some kind of random author generator.

Either way, I think I'll be keeping my adverbs, yo.

Not FJM: Tim Sullivan, Kevin Towers & Scary Black People

We haven't gotten all racial 'round these parts in awhile.

About a week ago, the San Diego Padres fired their General Manager Kevin Towers. For you non-baseball fans who still remember 1996, the GM is the guy who would sit down with, say, "Jerry Maguire" on behalf of a pro sports team so that they could negotiate a player's contract. There's a "wheeler n' dealer" mythology associated with a GM's job that really isn't relevant anymore.

Also, not relevant is the underlying tone in the opening paragraph of this eulogy written by The San Diego Union-Tribune's Tim Sullivan:

Kevin Towers walked into a Waffle House in Texas late one night and soon surmised that he was the only Caucasian in the restaurant.

He would admit later to some awkwardness, but feeling out of place is a temporary condition where KT is concerned. Whatever you might think of his baseball decisions, no one in the game can work a room more charismatically.

Standing there in the restaurant, Towers swiftly weighed his alternatives. Too hungry to leave, too resourceful to be intimidated and much too proud to beg, he walked over to the juke box, dumped some change into the slot and began ordering from an all-Motown menu.

Soon, the restaurant was filled with music and with mirth. Towers attacked another defenseless plate that had been “scattered, smothered and covered,” left an oversized tip and caused his grateful waitress to inquire how soon he might be back.

Where to begin?!

Well, let's start at the top. Towers "surmised" that he was the only white guy in the restaurant. Was his "white guy sense" tingling? Or was it the same way Batman would surmise the Penguin was involved with the theft of a billion-dollar bejeweled statue of a blue jay simply because it was a bird-related crime? (That's right, TWO tired comic book references!)

Towers admitted to some awkwardness? I love this! He's walking into a Waffle House, not a Bloods n' Crips alumni picnic. I've been the "only Black guy" in the room for as far back as I can remember. I was bused out to a "better" school way back in 2nd grade. All the way through to high school, there was no missing my peanut butter-colored mug in any class picture. This continued through college and into a professional career all while living in a city that'll never be confused with Atlanta or Washington DC.

Hell, Mrs. Bootleg and I were the only Black people in our own wedding party! For those scoring at home, there were white folk, a guy from Thailand, one Filipino, a woman from Mexico and one from Puerto Rico. Oh, and spanakopita was one of our appetizers.

Here's my favorite part of the excerpt:

Too hungry to leave, too resourceful to be intimidated and much too proud to beg…

Doesn't this sound just a tad dramatic? It's the type of line I'd have expected to see written about Martin Luther King entering any Birmingham diner in 1959. A well-to-do white guy didn't turn around and walk out of that Waffle House? Free at last. (Also, what would he be begging for?)

Thankfully, Towers turned on the jukebox and the eatery was "…filled with music and mirth…". The morale of our story, as always: Jigaboos love them some soul music.

We sure do.

TBG Eats Reads: Joey Garlic's Pizzeria

A couple of days ago, m'man Nicka sent me a link to Joey Garlic's website. One of the highlights of my epic 2007 visit to Connecticut was Nick and me destroying a 30 wing platter at the Bidwell Tavern Café, followed by a giant order of quesadillas. A few hours later, Mrs. Nicka grilled steaks for us. (Confidential to Mrs. Bootleg: I'm still waiting for you to correspond with Mrs. Nicka to find out how I like my steak prepared. She got it right on the first try. At this point, I can only assume you KNOW I like it medium-rare and you're just overcooking mine out of spite. Moving on.)

In the span of five hours, we consumed close to 20,000 calories roughly. So, when Nick sends me a menu with only the words "Heaven is thy name" in the body of the email, you can bet it was worth the hour of company time I spent pouring over each and every word.

For the sake of simplicity, I'm reviewing the menu from the Farmington, CT location. Dedicated to the memory of FJM.

Starters

Now remember, these are ITALIAN appetizers, nothing small about them, capisce?

Pretentious, but we'll let it pass. Still, I can't imagine "…these are BLACK appetizers…" at the top of a soul food menu. The use of " capisce " seems like pandering, too. Reminds me of those lowbrow men's magazines that throw around words like "muy caliente" to describe the sex appeal of this month's swimsuit model if she happens to be Hispanic.

Crispy Fried Ribs $9.95

Any menu description that begins "My Mom was friends with a Vietnamese woman…" is worth an order on the grounds of unintentional hilarity alone. If fried chicken is on their menu, I demand the description start out with "Hey, wait a minute, I've got LOTS of Black friends…"

Calamari Fritti $8.95

When the menu invokes the name of God, himself, to sell deep fried squid, I think it's safe to say we're all on board. Great calamari IS a religious experience and the description here has me hoping for a greasy, sun-dried tomato pesto sauce-leaking Fed Ex package from That Nicka Family in the near future.

Fried Dough $5.95

Wait, wait, wait…I've eaten "elephant ears" and "buñelos", but "fried dough"? Where's the cutesy food euphemism? If we're going to get all dull and descriptive, start calling hot dogs by their actual content ("beef anus") and get it over with.

Greens

Meatball Salad $8.95

Oh. My. God. There is no bigger fan of those enormous "80 grams of fat" salads served in every fast food chain across America than me. And, I am floored that none of them has thought of this before. All this time, I thought blackened chicken was the meat zenith of the nine-dollar, casual-dining salad. I'm now left to wonder what other under-utilized – but, obvious – animal parts are right there, waiting to caress a bed of lettuce.

Crispy Calamari Salad $8.95

Of course! I mean…it's right there!

Sicilian Orange Salad $8.95

"Siggies"? Does that fall under the "n-word" rule in which only Sicilians can use it? And, how come I never heard it used during any of Sophia Petrillo's "Picture it, Sicily: 1898…" anecdotes?

Brick Oven Pizza, New Haven Style

OK, I can't lie…I had to Google "EVOO". In all my years of eatin', I've never seen that acronym. I'm not the restaurateur, Joey, but that sounds a lot less appetizing that "extra-virgin olive oil". What is that…just 15 more keystrokes?

Onion Lovers' Pie $12.95/$18.95

Caramelized onions AND crispy bacon? I found my order. I'm not exaggerating when I say a pizza like this would cost twice as much in California. The server would have to go to the back and "see if the cook could make it", since it's not on any menus out here.

Hawaiian Pineapple Pizza $12.95/$18.95

Pfft…Hawaiian pizzas have long since been passé on the West Coast, Connecticut. If you're going to lift our awesomely edible ideas, put fish tacos on the menu.

Old Fashioned, Fresh Ground Hamburgers

French fries are $1.50 extra WITH a burger?! Several years ago, I took an east coast-based customer to lunch at a local chain out here called Pat & Oscar's. They're famous for their breadsticks. But, when That East Coast Guy found out the breadsticks were sold a la carte, he wanted to get up and leave on principle. Same thing here for me with the fries.

Free Toppings: Fried onions, fried peppers, fried mushrooms, fried egg, chipotle-BBQ sauce, horseradish mayo, gorgonzola dressing, Buffalo sauce, hot pepper relish

AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Italian Sandwiches

Famous New York "Spiedie" Sandwich $8.95

Can't say I've ever even heard of a "Spiedie". Is it pronounced "speedy"? "Spay-DIE"? "SPUH-Eddie"? And, I'm not quite convinced that Binghamton is famous for anything. First thing that comes to mind when I think of the city? The Mets' minor league affiliate. Probably says more about me than the fine people of Binghamton, though. The sandwich sounds kind of pedestrian, so what am I missing?

Milkshakes

Banana, Caramel Cinnamon, Coffee, Hazelnut $4.95

AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

An Uninformed & Irrational Discussion on Steroids

Luke: According to ESPN the Magazine's Rick Reilly, the 2001 NL MVP should be taken from Barry Bonds and given to THIS guy.

Aaron: That was absolutely the worst thing Reilly has ever vomited out. Did he really also include Piazza in the whole "clean" runner-ups list? I'm not accusing dude, but I think the "unsubstantiated free pass" list has about two names on it: Greg Maddux and maybe Willie McGee.

Luke: Piazza! That's the one I was missing. I only scanned the story the first time for names, because I knew the premise. Then, I went back and looked for the third name besides Gonzalez and Pujols, and I didn't even have the patience to keep going until I found Piazza. This really is the worst of the worst from Reilly, from the premise on down. The crazy thing is...he actually goes out of his way to say (paraphrase) "Adrian Beltre would have gotten the '04 award but it was so obvious he juiced that year, even though he has never been implicated." Really? Beltre was THAT obvious, but Gonzalez wasn't, and Pujols is just beyond reproach? You're serious?

Nick: Is Bagwell even mentioned? Nomar? The guy's tendons snap like fishing wire. Did he take back Eric Gagne's Cy Young?

Aaron: Bagwell, to me, is the most obvious one who NO ONE is talking about. He wore that Phat Farm/FUBU oversized jersey for the last half of his career, but unlike Bonds, he wasn't dumb enough to pose for BALCO ads and muscle magazine spreads. My theory is that Bagwell is forever linked to Craig Biggio as a teammate and the media's round-the-clock hard-on for Biggio's grit and gumption has blinded them to the elephant in the room. Nomar's even worse. You'd have thought someone would've said something when Bonds was catching heat, yet Nomar's posing shirtless on the cover of SI, looking like he was ready to challenge for the WWE title.

Luke: On Bagwell, I agree, he was always my personal "WTF?" poster boy, and I think he started with 'roids early in his career, not later. I watched him play a bunch of times in Double A, at New Britain . He hit 4 homers in 500-plus at-bats en route to the Eastern League MVP Award (Who is doing the voting there? MVP with four homers?). He was built like Khalil Greene. In 1994, he was ahead of the Roger Maris pace while playing in the ASTRODOME when the season got shortened.

The one thing is, though, no buzz really ever starts until you get caught, or implicated somehow. I've thought for five years that A-Rod was a definite. When you see that guy on a baseball field, he's not built like the other people. He looks like a giant, evil robot when he's running around the bases. The guy DWARFS people.

And really...he was clean in 2007 when, with an opportunity coming up to opt out of his contract, he suddenly became the best clutch hitter in baseball? He hit like .596 in the ninth inning and later with like 18 walk-offs. Suddenly some fortitude sprang up from deep in his loins, coincidentally at the time when he stood to bank another $300 mil?

My thanks to Nick n' Luke for unwittingly contributing to this lightly-read blog!

Flippin' Thru: ESPN – The Magazine, October 6, 2008

ESPN: Would you write an at-bat song for a player if he asked?

Lil' Wayne: Hell yes. I'll do it right now. Prince Fielder is one of my favorites, so I'd do "Coming up to the plate young Prince/swinging for the fence." Something like that, but better, 'cause I'd work real hard on it.

On page 38 of their latest issue, ESPN The Magazine devotes a few hundred words to the music that baseball players use on their way to the plate. It's the usual disposable, instantly forgettable sports journalism that the World Wide Leader has practically patented, but it wasn't without a good amount of unintentional comedy and outright ignorance.

-- Minneapolis rapper A&R wrote and performed "Joe Mauer's Theme Song", which is played before every at-bat by the Twins starting catcher. And, with lyrics like "Guess who stepped up to the plate/It's minus one from number eight", it's obvious the Midwest's rap dominance didn't die with the incarceration of 18 out of 24 members and affiliates of Bone Thugs N Harmony. You can listen to the entire awful track here.

-- Hey, did you know that Rangers OF Josh Hamilton is a Christian? Sure is. His at-bat song is from a Christian band called Phillips, Craig & Dean. Remember 10 years ago, when cornerback/outfielder Deion Sanders found Jesus and no one believed him because he was a jerk? Meanwhile, Hamilton gets the benefit of the doubt despite stealing millions of dollars in development costs and signing bonus from the Rays. Last time I'll mention this. Promise.

-- The article repeatedly states that the Oakland A's don't use prerecorded music before their players at-bats, but that can't be right. I know I've heard music before at-bats while watching almost all of their home games this year on TV. Of course, now I can't think of any of the songs. I do know that erstwhile closer Huston Street uses this as his "theme song", which I find pretty bad ass.

Flipping Thru: Entertainment Weekly - 10/3/08

"I was convinced an Obama/McCain campaign would be measurably different on almost all standards. And to watch it become Bush/Kerry, Bush/Gore, has been one of the most dissatisfying experiences." - Jon Stewart

Just a terrific cover story/interview in this past week's EW with Comedy Central's Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. I don't watch either The Daily Show or The Colbert Report, but I've read some of Stewart's previous "can I be serious" screeds on politics and the mainstream media.

My disillusionment with the American political process has metastasized into an acrid disgust and Stewart and Colbert capture many of the reasons why. Colbert's comment on the "…14 voters in Boca…" proving the creation of "political science" was equally awesome.

You. Read. Now.

That Book-Leg Guy: "The Last Great Fight" by Joe Layden (a/k/a The TBGaithersburg Travel Diary – Part 2)

So, when we last left, uh, myself…I was deplaning down in Dallas/Fort Worth. I love DFW's airport because they refer to "restrooms" as "toilets" on all their signage, which sounds like the 19th century tradition and terminology the entire state is stuck in. I now also love DFW because it's the first airport I've seen with a Popeye's Chicken inside. Unfortunately, I noticed this after I'd already paid $3.00 for a cold, butter-drenched cinnamon sugar pretzel from Auntie Anne's.

Anyways, the rest of my layover and ensuing flight into Dulles was rather uneventful. I did, however, finish a book that I started before I boarded in San Diego. Segue!


I've been thinking about the precise moment that the sports world, as I once knew it, became lobotomized by ESPN, the internet and those damn, dirty bloggers. Specifically, I'm wondering when the 24/7 sports cycle begun, because it certainly wasn't there in 1990.

18 years ago it was unfathomable that world would forget Bo Jackson – the single greatest force of nature to ever step on to the field. Similarly, Michael Jordan had yet to win a championship and was routinely labeled as a selfish, me-first player who didn't make his Yankees Bulls teammates better. Joe Montana was still the gold standard for quarterbacks, but, by 2008, he'd be eclipsed in the media's eyes by a pill-popping alcoholic who'd lead his team to ¼ of the titles.

How quickly you forget.

I still remember where I was on February 10, 1990.

My dad had the remote control and he was clicking back and forth between the NBA's All-Star Weekend festivities on TNT and the Mike Tyson/Buster Douglas fight on HBO.

Back in the day, I was a HUGE basketball fan – mostly because the hated Lakers (who my dad adored) were in decline. I was only a casual boxing fan, but this was still a Tyson Fight and, as such, it was an event.

I still remember how infrequent the channel changing became when it was obvious that Mike Tyson was getting his ass handed to him by the unheralded Douglas. By the sixth round, we'd lost interest entirely in the manufactured Caucasian drama of Rex Chapman in the Slam Dunk contest.

Tyson would be knocked out in the tenth round and his fearsome mystique would never return.

Today, I can't help but laugh when people slap that "upset" label on Appalachian State beating Michigan or Golden State defeating Dallas. Unfortunately, the passing of time – and, Tyson's emotional, physical and psychological collapse into caricature – has dulled the moment for those of us who watched it unfold or eliminated it entirely as the sport of boxing has been dead to the mainstream media for over a decade.

Thankfully, Joe Layden has put together one hell of an attempt at a time machine.

What Aaron Liked: Layden meticulously details the build to the Tyson/Douglas fight and how it came to be. In particular, the "quitter" profile of Buster Douglas (he essentially surrendered during a 1987 title bout) was one I hadn't heard before and serves as ominous foreshadowing for Douglas' first – and only – title defense. The author knows that Mike Tyson's story has been told 10,000 times, so his build is brisker, while stopping to spend a little more time celebrating Tyson's apex (the 91-second destruction of Michael Spinks) and the beginning of his downfall (Robin Givens, car wrecks – both literal and figurative). Douglas' story, before and after the Tyson fight, is poignantly painted against the backdrop of a father he could never please, while the center represents the one night when it all came together. Douglas' full cooperation with the book allowed for an intense first-person account and adds an infinite number of layers to a man who entered and left the public's consciousness in less than a calendar year. Two of the book's most heartbreaking moments are its biggest highlights: (1) Tyson/Douglas fight referee Octavio Meyran, who speaks in detail about how the fallout ruined his career and (2) the deaths of Douglas' parents.

What Aaron Didn't Like: The book persuasively argues that the Douglas loss might've actually been the most valiant moment of Tyson's career. However, after Layden covers the last of the angles from that fateful night in Tokyo, the book ping-pongs from the decay of Tyson's career (which reads more like summarized newspaper clippings) to the more fleshed-out (HAW~!) "Whatever Happened To" pieces on Douglas. According to Layden, Tyson only offered minimal participation, which doesn't really hurt the book (is there anyone who doesn't know about Tyson's affinity for ear?) but, it does make things feel a little one-sided. The retroactive rip job on Tyson's fight skills (mostly from historian Bert Sugar and commentator Jim Lampley) might be accurate, but I find it hard to believe Layden couldn't find anything in the way of a rebuttal from someone. And, as much as I enjoyed this book, I was surprised to read how many times Layden described an African-American as "well-spoken". I hear in Washington DC, we're even allowed to ride in the front of the Metro!

Steal, borrow or buy it? Layden has an easy-to-read writing style that restores the shine to one of my favorite sports eras ever. Buy it if you're a boxing fan or if you were a self-aware sports fan at the time of the fight. If you see it at Borders, flip to the fight (around pages 150-170) and thank me later for making a few minutes breeze by.

Next: An unintended two-and-a-half hour tour of Maryland and I come face-to-face with another longtime Bootleg reader for the first time. Do I survive the encounter? I'm not telling!

Dear, Everyone I Know...

Thanks for sending me this ridiculous piece from..."StreetBeat". Yes, I know how lame I look and sound. On the other hand: Who's the bigger loser - the one who gives parking lot interviews to free neighborhood newspapers or the ones who read 'em? Fine, we'll call it a push.

That Book-Leg Guy: "God Save the Fan" by Will Leitch

I first discovered Deadspin during a week-long stay with the in-laws in Ogden, Utah over Thanksgiving 2005. I'm pretty sure I finished the entire internet during that debacle of a holiday break, in which my mother-in-law sent us a bill for the food she served. Anyways, that was just before Deadspin blew up HUGE.

Today, it's one of the most irreverent, insanely popular sports sites on the net. Editor Will Leitch bills it as "Sports News without Access, Favor or Discretion" and, yes, that about covers it. So, it comes as no surprise that what started out as something of an underground resistance towards the continued ESPNification of sports has joined forces with a major book publisher to make a buck or two-hundred for, ostensibly, "the little website that could".

Checking in at just under 300 pages, I started and finished the book over a few days during last week's stay in San Francisco.

What Aaron Liked: Leitch breaks his subject matter into four parts ("Players", "Owners", "Media" and "Fans"), then writes dozens of smaller essays under and about each one. It's the very definition of an easy read, as even the material that doesn't click isn't long enough to annoy (for the most part). Even though Leitch admits he's screaming to an empty room, his breakdown of the MLB/NFL steroid double-standard is absolutely on point. Equally insightful – albeit, obvious – is his piece on homophobia (Kordell Stewart! Mike Piazza! Others!) which really cuts to the inherent absurdity of jock culture. Leitch really lets the owners have it – highlighted by an essay entitled "Peter Angelos Kills Kittens and Is Trying to Sleep with Your Mother". Even better are the pages dedicated to a night at Yankee Stadium. The book finishes with a terrific "glossary" section that defines the fanbase of every MLB, NFL and NBA team (sample: "Hawks, Atlanta: For years, thought the old logo was Pac-Man and never understood why.")

What Aaron Didn't Like: I was surprised that the sections on fans and the media were so damn flat, considering Deadspin's mission statement. Most of the media essays are the same "I hate ESPN" opinions held by all the people who still watch it, anyway. Leitch's "Clockwork Orange" experiment – in which he watches 24 straight hours of ESPN's family of networks – is cringingly unfunny. Along the same lines, the piece on SI.com's Peter King and how King "…got exactly what he deserved" when another website posted pictures of King's college-aged (and inebriated) daughter is simply indefensible. The "fans" segment is a little better, but still reads a lot like some guy projecting (actually, cramming) his sanctimonious preaching down my pie-hole.

Steal, Borrow or Buy It? I've recommended Deadspin to several friends only to come to the conclusion that you either "get it" or you don't. An easy recommendation if, like me, you hit up the site daily. Leitch's quips of criticism get a little redundant and the author doesn't exactly convince me that stuff like Ben Roethlisberger's drinking is "news", but any book I can start, read and finish entirely in my hotel bathroom is worth $24.95, retail. Buy.

Read More Sports Illustrated

I've been meaning to put up a long, praise-filled post on the absolute awesomeness that is SI.com's new SI Vault site. 54 years of Sports Illustrated articles from the archives, featuring a terrific search engine and a means to unearth some wonderful writing from when SI was THE voice in sports journalism. If you're a sports fan, you've got to hit it up.

Over the last few days, I've come across:

+ One of my favorite SI article's of all time: Steve Wulf's mean-spirited and sanctimonious hatchet job on Michael Jordan's attempt to play professional baseball.

+ This late '80s piece on the execrable Seattle Mariners that tries to tie their perpetual mediocrity to God, Hispanics and, of course, the Kingdome.

+ An over-the-hill Reggie Jackson, as a 1987 Oakland Athletic, offers up his views on race relations in baseball and society. Twenty years later, it's fascinating how well (and, at times, poorly) this article has held up.

+ Former A's ace Dave Stewart talks about his role within the Oakland community in the aftermath of the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake that interrupted the World Series.

+ As part of a cover story on "One Day in Baseball", SI spent a doubleheader with, umm…a certain team's bullpen. Absolutely terrific writing on an otherwise anonymous crew.

+ Jose Canseco, in a piece that would annihilate Bill Simmons' Unintentional Comedy scale, gets all high and mighty on drug use, steroids, fame and fan expectations.

+ 25 years ago, there were a lot of people who'd anointed Rickey Henderson, Dwayne Murphy and Tony Armas as the greatest outfield in the game. This is a fine first person account of who these three are and it includes the description "overdeveloped buttocks".

All Good Things…

Brand new policy at eBay:

Due to the nature of magazine subscription services and the general inability for ordered items to be delivered within 30 days of the purchase date, eBay does not permit the sale of magazine subscriptions on the site.

Hope y'all got in when I did. That four year subscription to ESPN: The Magazine only cost me $11 total and will pay for itself the second I start reading it.

48 months of a bi-weekly magazine in the 24/7 internet age? Seemed like a good idea at the time.

Flippin' Thru – The ESPN Shop Catalog (March 2008)

If you ever buy one thing from any online sports apparel shop, you become the weekly recipient of catalogs from every sports apparel shop.

Let's do this thang…

Page 02: The results of an ESPN.com poll break the initial sticker shock of Nike's College Twill Jerseys ($74.99) and matching shorts ($59.99):

ESPN.com voters sized up the all-time NCAA Tournament Underdogs

1.) George Mason (2006)

2.) Villanova (1985)

I think I'll stop here, since no one needs any further proof that ESPN.com voters are morons. Wait…you do need more proof? Then, just read the user comments that they've incorporated at the end of every story on their website. Bonus points if the story has anything even remotely to do with race.

Page 04: Crocs Collegiate Beach ($34.99) – According to the catalog, Crocs are "the original, cool, comfort design that sparked a phenomenon". Oh, white consumers…is there anything you won't turn into a phenomenon?

Page 07: Nike Lacrosse Reversible Practice Jersey ($34.99) – Perfect for the sports fan in your life who's had it up to here with the well-to-do and disconnected douchebags of professional sports.

Page 11: Fashion has officially passed me by. At least, that was my first thought when I discovered that this wasn't for women ($99.99). And, neither was this or this ($89.99 and $124.99, respectively). Pretty sure that Will Smith's fashion sense from the first season of Fresh Prince will hold up better than any of these. And, he wore denim shorts, people. Denim!

Page 13: Majestic Hardwood Classic Player Image Tee ($19.99) – I know this subject's been beaten to death on infinitely funnier blogs than mine, but can a Black man really wear the Larry Bird shirt? Wouldn't Bird's legendary grit, court sense and basketball intelligence cancel out the whole athleticism-and-only-athleticism of the Black guy wearing it? Plus, the whole "Black Boston fan" thing. Does such a Negro exist?

Page 13: adidas NBA Championship Banner Tee ($25.99) – Really, New York Knicks, I'm not sure what's worse: seeing your shirt alongside the multiple, more recent championships of the Lakers (boo!) and Bulls or the fact that there's actually room for all two titles that you've won (none since 1973).

Page 23: Majestic MLB Scoring Streak Ringer Tee ($24.99) – Pass. Aaron can't wear "ringers" as I've discovered that the "rings" around the sleeves and collar draw far too much attention to my bony girl arms (and accompanying elephant's butt smell) and my roll-of-dimes neck. I'm 180 pounds and 96% of that is my head. Only former Phoenix Sun Kevin Johnson knows my pain.

Page 23: Majestic MLB Intersection Stadium Tee ($17.99) – I've been an A's fan for over 25 years and I'm just now discovering that their ballpark is not on the corner of "CripBlood Boulevard" and "Martin Luther King, Jr. Avenue". Would've lost a bet on that one.

Page 24: Majestic Cooperstown MLB Laser Jersey ($74.99) – I nearly leapt out of the ass-crater I've created in our couch when I saw the A's were represented by former ace and Roger Clemens-killer, Dave Stewart! Then, I discovered numerous jersey rules violations that brought me back down to earth. For one, Stewart was an Athletic from 1986-1992 (much like Rocky V, 1995 is not recognized) and never wore the 1970s colors on this jersey. Two, this is a cheap knockoff of replica jerseys, which are – themselves – less expensive imitations of the more awesome "authentic" ones. Still, I left the catalog opened to page 24, atop the snoring corpse of Mrs. Bootleg this morning. I'll let'cha know how it goes.

Page 24: Majestic MLB Impact V-Neck ($44.99) – The Montreal Expos are featured prominently, which is depressing on several levels, but none more than this: Major League Baseball is attempting to make money off of a franchise that they, themselves, killed off with the strike in 1994, shady back-alley ownership agreements and, of course, the original Mr. Bojangles. Good to know that rappers will have something cool to wear in their videos, though.

Page 25: Majestic MLB Banner Pride Tee ($17.99) – For all the sh*t they get, I can honestly say that I've never known one of those stereotypical a-hole Yankee fans. Sure, I saw lots of 'em when I went to Yankee Stadium last summer, but I've never known one. That said, if Nick or Joe or NYJon were to ever start rocking the "26 World Championships, B*tches" shirt… Full disclosure: I own the A's version of this shirt, but since it only features the four championships won in Oakland, it's more "modestly historic" and less "look, I'm a d*ck!".

Page 26: Majestic MLB Momentum Women's Tee ($17.99) – Mrs. Bootleg's owns a few A's and (sigh) Padres t-shirts and jerseys. I'm proud to say that none of them are pink. She's a keeper…unless someone wants to make an offer for her. The boy and the cat go, too. Package deal. This is non-negotiable.

Page 27: Reebok MLB Clubhouse Lining Shoe ($69.99) – I own more A's personalized jerseys and t-shirts than anyone in their 30s should ever admit. Yet, it's still comforting to know that the crown to the Loser Kingdom sits atop the head of anyone who'd wear these.

Page 33: ESPN SportsCenter Boo Yah Tee ($17.99) – I stand corrected.

Another Cheap Read Public Service Announcement

Last week, I made passing reference to Black Enterprise magazine.

And, in the Bootleg Family's never-ending quest to present positive African-American media imagery to our son, I went and bought a three-year subscription. Yes, that should cancel out my West Coast music collection quite nicely. Anyways, I wrote a post similar to this one about a year ago, but it bears repeating:

Get your magazine subscriptions from eBay.

Three years of Black Enterprise = $2.95…total, Nicka!

Now, between the ages of 4 and 7, our son will be exposed to pictures of Black professionals from the imaginary lands of Atlanta, Washington DC aaaaand, I dunno…South Central Atlanta? Meanwhile, his parents will read stories on how African-Americans should better manage their money ("try to leave the dice game before it gets robbed") and the magazine's annual "100 Most Powerful Blacks" feature ("There's a NEW #1! Kidding, it's still Oprah.")

Happy Black History Month, y'all.

Flipping Thru: ESPN – The Magazine (January 14, 2008 Issue)

About a year ago, I paid $9.00 for a four-year subscription to ESPN – The Magazine. And, even at $2.25/year, I wonder what the hell I was thinking. Much like the ubiquitous sports network, the magazine is so insufferably full of itself that I now understand what it must be like for you people to read me.

These days, the magazine serves as a time killer whenever I'm on bath duty for the boy. The trying-too-hard-to-be-hip journalism is instant comic relief, while the beach towel-sized pages make for a sweet shield whenever Jalen tries to surprise me with a bathwater splash or two.

That said, once in awhile, ESPN makes my minimal investment worth the effort. Here's a snippet from this week's cover story on Miami Heat superstar Dwyane Wade:

So (Dwyane) Wade has looked into acting classes and clothing design. He enlarges his vocabulary, one word a week. "Immaculate was one," he says. "Cohorts. Lethargic. As in, 'I've been busy trying to get this lethargic team back on track.'" He laughs.

He's not the only one.

GED-Murder

Former No Limit Records recording artist and longtime Bootleg punching bag Corey "C-Murder" Miller wrote a book last year. For you non-rap fans, Miller is the younger brother of inexplicable zillionaire and erstwhile Dancing with the Stars farce, Master P.

If that doesn't help convey the shock that this clown is a published author, I went over to rap lyric site ohhla.com, clicked "C-Murder" and pulled the following lyrics from the first song I randomly found:

"Sometimes I want me a bitch, sometimes I don't
And sometimes I gotta bust a nut, and sometimes I won't "

Now, I know what you're thinking. And, for anyone who thinks I'm just cherry-picking the worst two bars in the song, here are the next two:

"Check it, from the Crips to the Bloods to the n*ggas sellin' drugs
Yet n*ggas pimp hoes in the muthaf*ckin' clubs"

Ah, hell, here are the next four:

"I'm the 'G' in gangsta
The n*gga that'll hang ya, the ship that'll sink ya
And the bullet that'll bang ya
I'm the hour in a clock, I'm the high on the rock"

Again…C-Murder, author.

His book, "Death Around the Corner", is appropriately titled for two reasons: (1) it's about a plucky urban scamp called "Daquan" (natch) who gets thrown into an Oz-like youth detention facility and (2) the title was also used by Tupac Shakur for a cut from his 1995 Me Against the World album. Y'see, Murder's entire career was built on lifting Pac's flow and stealing several of Pac's then-unreleased bootleg(!) tracks.

Anyways, it seems the book has been named the 2007 Book of the Year by something called "Conversations Book Club". I am not making this up. Here's a link to their (chuckle) comically poor layout. They're based in Jackson, Mississippi, which makes perfect sense. After all, when I think "literacy", make mine Mississippi!

The Book Club has arranged for readers to dial into a conference call with C-Murder to discuss his opus every Thursday at 8PM (5PM out here in Cali) through the end of February.

So, that leaves me just eight weeks to obtain a copy and plow through it, just so I can put myself through what must be quite the rigorous Mississippi literary screening process to discuss the book with Mr. Murder.

Bad investment, you say? Well, there are 24 reviews over at Amazon.com, where the book is averaging close to a five-star rating. Are you really going to doubt reader "M. Thompson" who said, "(C-Murder) could definetely (sic) make a movie out of this book." We won't tell M that every rapper already has.

Reader "D. Frazier – The Ghetto Fiction Queen" says, "There are no grammatical errors…", while fellow Amazonian "N. Klinker" says, "The story is well wrote…".

And, just like that, I've got a new addition to my Amazon Wish List.

Note: Aaron's birthday is March 30th.

That Book-Leg Guy: "Hitman: My Real Life in the Cartoon World of Wrestling"

Synopsis: The long-awaited autobiography of former pro wrestler Bret "Hitman" Hart covers his 20+ year career, his upbringing in Calgary, dysfunctional family members, numerous personal tragedies and a splash of pink.


The Goodness: Any chapter, paragraph or anecdote on Hart's f*cked-up family is wonderfully sordid and always interesting. Where to begin? There's the one about Bret's brother Smith, who hastily married a Puerto Rican named Maria then had a daughter they named Satanic Ecstasy Hart. And, how about Bret's brother-in-law, Davey Boy Smith? He allegedly left Bret's sister to steal the wife of Bret's brother. Another Hart brother, Dean, died of kidney failure as none of his siblings even opted to get tested for a possible donor match.


Morbidly enough, the book's best moments are rooted in such heartbreak. Hart's retelling of the physical and emotional breakdown of former peer Tom "Dynamite Kid" Billington is dark and disturbing, with more detail than in Billington's own book. Then, when Hart discusses the passing of his parents, Stu and Helen, to say nothing of the loss of his brother, Owen, you can practically feel Bret's spirit dying with them. The behavior of Bret's siblings during these difficult times is just jaw-dropping (one Hart sister allegedly conspired with the WWF in the Owen Hart wrongful death suit, while another supposedly verbally assaulted Owen's widow - while giving the eulogy for Helen Hart!)

Of course, if you're like me and followed Bret Hart's career for any length of time, you'll be most interested in the stories from the road. Bret claims to have kept an audio diary of his entire career, which has allowed for phenomenal detail on everything from PPV matches, to obscure house shows and every plane ride, rental car and cheap hotel in between. And, save for a few "you-know-whos", his criticism of certain workers (Bad News Brown, Dean Malenko(!)) is as constructive and even-handed as his praise (Curt Hennig, Bam Bam Bigelow).

Not-So-Goodness: This is a fascinating read in that Bret's tone, right around page 300, gets instantly insufferable. Probably not a coincidence that this is where he describes his first WWF Title reign. Up to here, his story as an undersized David in a locker room full of Goliaths is almost inspiring, but for the rest of the way his "wrestling hero" self-references (and personal notes on every real or worked award he's ever won) get a little grating.

And, the number of times Bret refers to himself as your "hero" is roughly the same as the number of stories he shares about shagging wrestling groupies. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the detail (and he goes into a LOT of detail) but as his rocky marriage remains in a perpetual state of crap, Hart shows only superficial remorse for his serial adultery. Hard to take his bitching about the death of wholesome role models in wrestling seriously...all I'm sayin'.

Not nearly as surprising - but a little more disappointing - were the amount of odd, out-of-place homophobic stories from the road. I get that even pretend sports need to maintain a macho veneer, but what's really that impressive about punching a guy who makes a pass at you in the face? The whole point seemed to be a sad, insecure reassurance for readers that, yes, this guy who shaves his body and holds similarly hairless men for 30 minutes a night doesn't have "the gay".

On a kind-of related note, can we please introduce Hart to some Black people? He couldn't possibly grasp the unintentional hilarity of the word "mulatto", as he uses it a few times to describe assorted ring rats. Elsewhere, he describes that Mabel/Viscera guy as "black as coal"...and, it reads like he means it as a compliment. Trust me, I'm not mad about this...I just wanna save Bret from getting his ass kicked one day.

TBG Sez: Thanks to a week-long cold that combined bird flu with bubonic plague, I was able to plow through this 550-pager in a couple of days. I've only read four or five of these 'rasslin autobiographies, but this one's definitely going to be one of the better ones you'll read. The detail is amazing, the Hart family stuff will floor you at times and the paranoia that builds in the year or so up to the Montreal screwjob is absolutely palpable. This one's currently only available in Canada, but you can get it off of Amazon.ca for about $25(US). If you're a fan of the "sport" or the author, I can't recommend this one enough.

Flipping Thru - Entertainment Weekly (June 22, 2007)

I think we can all agree that there's only one thing more journalistically lazy than the infamous "list column"…no matter how well-written and entertaining it is. And, fortunately, I'm bringing the sloth as I blog about someone else's list column.

Our friends at Entertainment Weekly (né "People For Dummies") have compiled their list of the 25 Greatest Action Movies of All Time! And, the exclamation point isn't mine.

To wit…the list:

1.) Die Hard (1988)
2.) Aliens (1986)
3.) Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
4.) The Road Warrior (1982)
5.) The Matrix (1999)
6.) Seven Samurai (1954)
7.) Gladiator (2000)
8.) Saving Private Ryan (1998)
9.) Hard-Boiled (1992)
10.) Terminator 2 (1991)
11.) Speed (1994)
12.) The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
13.) The Wild Bunch (1969)
14.) Robocop (1987)
15.) Enter the Dragon (1973)
16.) Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)
17.) The Bourne Supremacy (2004)
18.) The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)
19.) Goldfinger (1964)
20.) Kill Bill – Volume 1 (2003)
21.) Spider-Man 2 (2004)
22.) Predator (1987)
23.) Drunken Master II (1994)
24.) Lethal Weapon (1987)
25.) The Incredibles (2004)

+ For me, the thing that stands out is that I've only seen 13 of these movies and just five of the top ten. Have I really been missing out on some timeless thrills and chills or am I getting just a wee bit too worked up over someone's subjective junk list? Well, I guess I'm left with what I know.

+ Too high: The Matrix…OK, I'll concede that The Matrix was one of the most influential movies in recent memory. It blazed the 21st century cinematic path for special effects, fight sequences and incomprehensibly nonsensical plots. Oh, and it single-handedly challenged Scarface as the most referenced and revered movie amongst rappers. All of these things count for something.

Now, will you concede that it's also the most overrated movie in recent memory? There are some undeniably exciting sequences…and, bear in mind that I haven't seen this flick since 1999…but, was there a DVD version released that removed the 2 ½ hours of faux-philosophical dialogue, the glacial pacing and overt pretentiousness? No? Then, I stand by my claim.

+ Too low: Lethal Weapon…I promise that this will be the only time I play the "How can _____ be ahead of _____?!" game, but how can frickin' Speed be ahead of Lethal Weapon (or, for that matter, any other movie on this list)?! I suppose Weapon owes something to Eddie Murphy and Nick Nolte for revitalizing the "Odd Couple" cop formula in 48 Hours, but the chemistry between Mel Gibson and Danny Glover would rank in the top two of EW's inevitable "25 Greatest On Screen Chemistry Between Two Male Leads" list.

It's big and loud and chock full of '80s excess, but "Riggs" and "Murtaugh" are written with just enough vulnerability to avoid becoming "can't kill 'em" caricatures. (Zing, Bruce Willis!) This low ranking can only be residual blame for the Joe Pesci, Rene Russo, Chris Rock and Jet Li-laden sequels. "Editorial license", says Entertainment Weekly. "It's just been revoked!", I retort.

+ Why does NO ONE ever talk about the gigantic plot hole at the end of Terminator 2 when the shape-shifting villainous Terminator has Sarah Connor in his clutches and demands that she "call out" to her son, ostensibly to lure him to his death. Why couldn't he have killed Sarah Connor, took her form and then sucker the boy in to his death? I've been b*tching about this for 16 years and I can only assume that none of you are listening.

+ Speed at #11…absolutely criminal. Just a comically awful film in which the only lasting legacy was the official start of the "Sandra Bullock" era (1994-1997) in Hollywood. Has an unintentionally better bookend than Speed 2: Cruise Control ever been built?

+ On a related note, has there ever been a farther drop in quality from original to sequel than Robocop and Robocop 2? The original was wonderfully unabashed camp and depravity. The sequel featured a 12-year-old crime boss and about 100,000 f-bombs. And, that's why I don't own any Lil' Bow Wow albums.

+ EW has promised that #26 thru 50 will run on their website next week. Off the top of my head, I'd expect to see: True Lies (should've been in the top 20 for almost saving Jaime Lee Curtis' career), either The Rock or Face-Off (two of the best bad movies of recent vintage) and shout outs to Clint Eastwood, Charles Bronson and Sly and the Family Stallone.

Flipping Thru - Consumer Reports (July '07)

A couple of months ago, I wrote a post on the myriad of cheap magazine subscriptions that I'd bought through eBay. Turns out that I forgot one.

For only $12, I signed up for year-long subscription to Consumer Reports and, with apologies to Entertainment Weekly *AND* XXL, it's easily my favorite of the lot.

This month's issue features the CR reviews of the best/worst hot dogs and light beers. Now, sure...the cover hypes their rankings of digital cameras, but I'm here to violate the copyright for stuff you people actually use…not for some fly-by-night technology that's just keeping the shelves of Circuit City warm for the inevitable return of Polaroid.

First the top ten hot dogs (ranked on "flavor and texture"), according to Consumer Reports:

1.) Hebrew National
2.) Nathan's Famous
3.) Boar's Head Skinless
4.) Hebrew National Reduced Fat
5.) Boar's Head Lite Skinless Franks
6.) Ball Park Franks
7.) Sabrett Skinless Franks
8.) Oscar Mayer Beef Wieners
9.) Oscar Mayer Light Beef Wieners
10.) Applegate Farms: The Great Organic Uncured Hot Dog

· Can't argue with the #1 selection. 5,000 years of suffering has forged a fantastic frankfurter! (Feel free to use that, H.N.)
· I've never had a Nathan's Famous, but I'm assuming it's the replica of the Coney Island variety. Am I close on this, New York guys? Overrated or underrated?
· Not sure how Oscar Mayer-anything made it onto the Top 10. Does anyone over the age of eight still eat these?
· Every hot dog on the above list is listed as "beef" (wink). CR correctly sh*ts on pretty much all turkey/chicken/veggie dogs.
· Most interesting part of the article is CR's nutritional comparison of hot dogs to "other cookout favorites". Per ounce, hot dogs have almost more than thrice the fat of round steak, half the protein of hamburger and twice the calories of chicken breast.

On to the listing of light beers (ranked on "quality, taste trueness and flavor"):

1.) Michelob Ultra Amber
2.) Michelob Light
3.) Michelob Ultra
4.) Coors Light
5.) Sam Adams Light
6.) Budweiser Select
7.) Busch Light
8.) Bud Light
9.) Natural Light
10.) Keystone Light

· Right off the bat, I call bullsh*t. Sam Adams Light…#5?! I generally don't prefer light beer, but S.A. Light is pretty much the standard. It's time for my own market research.
· Yesterday, I went to the store and bought a six-pack of Michelob Ultra. I was looking for Ultra Amber, but they didn't have it. I had to try one of the beers that made the top three.
· After sampling the contents of three bottles once I got home, I can safely and responsibly declare that Consumer Reports is in bed with Anheuser-Busch (the company that produces Michelob). Straight water, people. Straight water.
· Coors Light…#4?! Obviously, they're CR's girl on the side that Anheuser-Busch knows nothing about. I admire the adultery, but still…
· Beck's ranked last at #20 and was described as "skunky and oxidized".

eBay = Cheap Reads

Why am I just now learning that eBay is the way to go for criminally inexpensive magazine subscriptions? In the last week, I've single-handedly increased the circulation statistics for five weekly and/or monthly reads:

ESPN - The Magazine: As far as sports magazines go, this one really isn't worth the recycled Sunday Circuit City insert ads it's printed on. The layout is cluttered, the photography is often grainy and the "writing" is comprised of half-assed concept columns like "Stu Scott's Two-Way" (rigged reader questions joined with Stu's one-eyed insight) and "Dan Patrick's Outtakes" (inane, innocuous interviews with random athletes). So, why am I now a subscriber for the next four years? First off, I paid all of $8.95 for the full 48 months, which comes out less than a dime per issue. Secondly, and infinitely more importantly, subscribers get access to ESPN Insider for free. Peter Gammons, Rob Neyer and that creepy little guy who fancies himself as the "fantasy expert"…? My lonely, late-at-nite net time just got a lot less porny.

Entertainment Weekly: One of the many, many things I do that drives Mrs. Bootleg up the wall (but, sadly, never out of my house or out of my life) is my predictable weekly perusal of good ol' EW…in the supermarket checkout line. I never buy it, since all the best parts are regurgitated right here and really…how many ambiguous analyses of Lost can one man stomach? And, as anyone who's read EW can tell you, the writing is targeted towards those sanctimonious twentysomethings who just stopped squealing for Teen People. $20 for two years? Sold. Perhaps Us Weekly can meet me in front of Aisle #6.

Maxim: True story. Sad story. I actually had to prepare Mrs. Bootleg for the impending arrival of the seminal men's magazine (non-nude division) in our mailbox: "Now, you're going to be seeing scantily-clad celebrities on the cover with what the kids call 'symmetrical cleavage'. Don't be afraid! These are women who've just gone untainted by childbirth and breast pumps." I'm genuinely unsure if men in their early 30s even need tips on how to remove a hickey (wink), but now I can be certain that I won't miss their once-every-twenty-months spotlight on "the colored celebrities"! September 2008 can't get here soon enough, Dihann Carroll!

The Source: Yeah, yeah, yeah…but, at least it's not their insecure younger sister/single mother, XXL. Hip Hop culture and I are no longer inseparable, but it's still my music of choice, even if some of today's audio lost me years ago. The writing, umm…"isn't awful", shall we say, even if the blatant liberal bent is worse than a thousand CNNs. Truth be told, by the time The Source hits the newsstands, it's instantly 45-60 days out-of-date. Then again, it's not like there's any place else to read what's on Kanye's mind or whether or not Nas is conflicted or just a hypocrite. I'm not sure why married fathers should care about these things, but we do.

XXL: Wow…backed myself into a corner on this one. Well, it was only $6.95 for 12 issues, so there's that. The writing is better than The Source which, admittedly, isn't saying much, but they're a lot less likely to give at least 3 ½ mics to f'n every album ever released. One of my favorite things about XXL is that they'll do "themes" from time to time, like their nearly cover-to-cover looks at Tupac death, Biggie's legacy, the West Coast rap renaissance (cough), etc. Plus, they're infamously in bed with Interscope Records, so if anyone's gonna get the exclusive interviews with notoriously media-shy entities like, oh say, Eminem or 50 Cent, it'll be here.