Archive for the ‘Editorial’ Category

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I’ve made bad jokes about Titus Young. You have too, likely. It’s difficult to resist when someone is arrested twice in one day, which seemingly takes true effort and determination. Let’s stop that now.

This past Friday night Young was arrested again, for the third time in a week. This time it was for burglary, assaulting a police officer, and resisting arrest, all stemming from a break-in which very nearly ended much worse. The homeowner was loading a gun and would have been prepared to shoot had Young provoked him further. Thankfully, such tragic measures weren’t needed.

Something clearly isn’t right with him, an assumption which goes beyond just his recent criminal activity. He’s shown brief flashes of talent (181 receiving yards and two touchdowns between weeks 7 and 8 this past season), but in between there’s been near constant malcontent behavior. Unhappy with his playing time with the Lions, he intentionally lined up in the wrong spot. Then when he remained unhappy with his usage, Young turned to social media to ask for his release, a request which was eventually granted.

Now we know what that something is indeed wrong in Young’s mind, the something that’s contributed to his spiral.

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Two summers ago, I went to Cleveland. Yes, Joakim Noah, people do actually choose to embark on a trip to Cleveland.

Since I’m also a fan of sports not named football, every summer I try to knock a ballpark off my list (aside: if you’re a baseball fan, drop whatever you’re doing and visit San Francisco right now, home of the best ballpark in the land). In Cleveland, I went for baseball, I stayed (well, one night) for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and the Pro Football Hall of Fame down the road.

It was early August, that time in the football calendar when hope is a highly addictive drug. And everywhere — dammit, everywhere — Browns jerseys walked the street.

We can poke fun at the Browns and their Factory of Sadness, and their team that just generally can’t get out of its own way. But much like Buffalo, this is a town that cares so deeply, but has been rewarded with so little, and seen such a painfully minimal return on that passion. Now, after new ownership infused the fanbase with even more hope, the leader could be forced to step aside briefly. Or worse, step down.

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Let’s assume that Wes Welker re-signs with the Patriots, because Wes Welker not signing with the Patriots would cause an immediate zombie apocalypse. And for fun, let’s also assume that the Dolphins continue spending all of their money, as even after signing Brian Hartline late last night — as was widely expected — they still have $33 million in cap space. Thanks for that very manageable 2013 cap hit of about $3-4 million, Brian, which leaves plenty of cash to overpay for either Greg Jennings and Mike Wallace while further supporting Hartline and sophomore quarterback Ryan Tannehill.

When that happens, contracts will inflate, and we’ll all die.

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Your Peyton Manning and Calvin Johnson arguments are legitimate, yet still wayward. And your Tom Brady or Aaron Rodgers arguments are cute. Funny, and cute.

After what we saw today and what we saw all season, there’s no conceivable way that Adrian Peterson isn’t the NFL’s most valuable player this year. Not after he came within nine yards of Eric Dickerson’s single-season rushing record, a mark of 2,105 yards that’s stood since 1984. And not after his 199 yards today made him one of just seven running backs in league history to accumulate more than 2,000 yards on the ground in a season.

But what’s more remarkable than those records are the circumstances in which Peterson had to play. For much of the year he was the sole offensive playmaker on a team that had to beat the Packers today to earn a playoff spot. Even though everyone at every defensive position and in every stadium seat knew the ball was going into Peterson’s gut far more often than it didn’t (he attempted a season high 34 runs today, one of just two times his carry total went higher than 30) he still busted out for long runs of 20 and 28 yards while averaging 5.9 yards per carry.

If you didn’t hear it every game or if I wasn’t bound by blogger law to write it in every post, while watching Peterson it would be easy to forget that he’s just over a year removed from shredding apart his knee. That may be his greatest accomplishment.

He’s made us forget.

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If Al Pacino has taught us anything, it’s that on any given Sunday, something something scream yell claw for every inch. Also, many things can happen, and few of them are predictable.

But here’s what we know to be true about the New York Giants, the same Giants who have now been eliminated from the playoffs despite a resounding win today over Philadelphia. Regressing back to the mean leads to a pretty crappy New Year’s Eve.

Today was, of course, a final grasp of sorts, a grasp at anything. The Giants needed help, and were waiting for a Bears loss that didn’t happen. While the arithmatic led to a possibility — a chance — it wasn’t a favorable one. Now the carnage assesment begins, a damange report that’s pretty easy.

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Distance has a way of making us look foolish. That’s not a reference to draw plays on third and long, or even when a hefty lineman recovers a fumble for a long-winded (and almost always hilarious) touchdown. It’s an allusion to the embarrassment we feel when we’re reminded of our history.

It seems almost impossible to believe that the Washington Redskins had to be threatened with legal action by the President of the United States before the team would sign African American players to its roster in 1962. It’s equally difficult to remember that a steroid-fueled Lyle Alzado was allowed to run rampant on offenses through the seventies and eighties. While problems resulting from racism and performance enhancing drug use haven’t been completely resolved, the fact that such practices weren’t more eagerly condemned at the time is now a cause for mortification.

It’s with this in mind that I imagine future generations having difficulty accepting the current inherent tolerance of drinking and driving present at every level of the National Football League. This disturbing practice came to its zenith this past Sunday when Josh Brent, a week removed from being charged with driving under the influence and intoxication manslaughter, found himself on the sidelines watching his team, the Dallas Cowboys, take on the Pittsburgh Steelers.

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On Saturday, Jovan Belcher, an inside linebacker for the Kansas City Chiefs, shot and killed his 22-year-old girlfriend, Kasandra Perkins. He then drove to Arrowhead Stadium and committed suicide, shooting himself in the head in front of head coach Romeo Crennel and general manager Scott Pioli. Sadly, there is another element to the tragedy. Belcher and Perkins leave behind a three-month-old daughter named Zoey, who was being looked after by Belcher’s mother in the same house where the first shooting occurred.

The initial reaction to this news was to feel anger and rage that someone would steal life from another, and then take their own, avoiding consequence at the hands of others and abandoning another human whose caretaking was their natural responsibility. Then, a brief moment of consideration revealed that there is never a simple explanation to the motivation behind any of our actions, least of all the most heinous. That isn’t meant to excuse what Belcher did, only to state that such heart-rending happenings leave little room for our own poorly-informed judgment.

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