It’s been a week since I last posted.  I know that after my Preakness article, there were some rumors that I was killed by Hurricane Ike in a tragic horseracing “accident,” but let’s face facts: the Maryland Jockey Club wouldn’t want ever want to risk bad press, would they?  In any case, in the words of the immortal Jeffrey Atkins: I’m not always there when you call, but I’m always on time.  At least with headlines.  On to them: 

• After admitting to blood doping during most of his career, Floyd Landis accused Lance Armstrong of doing the same.  

I realize Lance Armstrong is a once-in-a-lifetime athlete who kicked cancer’s ass then became the most dominant competitor in the history of his sport.  And for some reason, I really dislike him.  Just rubs me the wrong way.  HOWEVER, Floyd Landis is a complete and utter fraud.  The guy’s a liar.  At this point, I don’t think I’d be surprised if I found out Mother Theresa was on PEDs (nor would I care), but Floyd is pathetic.  Leave Lance alone – don’t be jealous just because he’s friends with the world’s best bro. 

• Washington Redskins receiver Santana Moss was linked to a Canadian doctor charged with “making false statements to federal officials, smuggling, unlawful distribution of human growth hormone (HGH), introducing the unapproved drug, called actovegin, into interstate commerce and conspiracy to defraud the United States.”    

The poor Redskins can’t even win when they cheat — that’s embarassing.  However, I’m going to choose to look at this positively: Santana Moss was so devoted to his terrible, dysfunctional team that he was willing to risk his career, health, reputation and money in the hopes he could be slightly mediocre for a team owned by Dan Snyder and coached by Jim Zorn.  That’s dedication, holmes.

• Soccer legend and current Argentina coach Diego Maradona “apologised” for running over the foot of a cameraman outside of Buenos Aires. 

Ok, I have an unrelated point to make here, but let me get the jokes out of the way first.  Maradona ran over the cameraman’s foot because a) He had a hot pizza in the passenger’s seat and was in a hurry to eat it; b) He had an eight ball in the passenger’s seat and was in a hurry to snort it; or c) he had both in his car but was in a hurry because he didn’t pay taxes on either of them. 

Now that that’s out of the way: don’t you hate it when Americans take British expressions and attempt to use them in regular conversation?  I’m not saying they’re wrong or inappropriate, but they just make you sound pretentious and if I’m British, I’d think you’re a jerk.  Most Brits probably think that already, but just because Guy Ritchie and Austin Powers made some popular British-themed movies 10 years ago that EVERYONE saw doesn’t mean you can roll around and drop “over the moon” or “preggers” or “flat.”  Stop it.   

• Delonte West, teammate of LeBron, and Gloria James, mother of LeBron, reportedly engaged in a romantic relationship.  

This is like a combination of “American Pie” and “Desperado.”  If I’m LeBron, I’m super heated, but what are you gonna do?  Delonte rolls like Antonio Banderas: on a motorcycle with a loaded shotty in a guitar case slung across his back and two sidearms just in case the banditos get too close.  Bron-Bron’s Mom likes the bad-boys… 

• Seven-time Pro-Bowl linebacker Zach Thomas signed a one-day, $1 contract in order to retire as a member of the Miami Dolphins. 

First: does he ever get the dollar?  Second, these stories are stupid.  Just because Emmitt Smith did the same thing means we’re supposed to forget he played for Arizona?  Or that Jerry Rice never laced them up for Seattle?  And what’s the significance of a one-day contract?  Do you hang out there for a day, sweep the floors, wash a load of jock straps and call it a day?  Just give the guy his plaque at halftime of a game next season and be done with it.  There wasn’t anything symbolic about the way you cut the guy when he was expensive and hurt.  Why start now?

•  The Washington Wizards won the NBA lottery. 

The Curse of Les Boulez is over!  Until JeVale McGee sleeps with John Wall’s mom. 

• Brett Favre told his alma mater’s baseball team that if they make the College World Series for the second consecutive year, he’ll return to the Minnesota Vikings.

Brett is akin to an attractive girl you date who also happens to be a gigantic flake.  She’s never on time, always changes her plans based on a whim, will initiate a text conversation with you then disappear for 9 hours… Yet, she is insanely hot and when you’re around her, she can do no wrong.  Unfortunately, she drives YOU insane but you can’t break up with her because you’re worried you’ll end up with a girl that looks like Sage Rosenfels or Tavaris Jackson and they won’t be half as good at throwing a post pattern.  Or something like that…

I must say I am thoroughly enjoying Favre’s wanton disregard for the feelings of Brad Childress, the Minnesota Vikings, and the NFL.  You know there’s some diehard at NFL headquarters flipping out over his disrespect for “the League.”  Although this bet could be a blessing in disguise for the rest of us: if the team makes it, we’re spared a summer of Rachel Nichols standing on Farve’s lawn telling us nothing.

Have a wild weekend.  I’ll be out on a motorcycle, guitar case slung across my back, looking for Salma.

Who knew seersucker Mecca would be good for something?  A friend of the Deuce found this picture in a Montauk bar. Too bad Orenthal decided to go jack a couple memorabilia dealers for a football and some 30 year old pieces of chewing gum. He could have gotten his reputation and Hertz commercials back.

Lebron James ended his season last night as valiantly as possible.  With an elbow that looked positively damaged, he managed to keep the Cavs alive for most of the game, even if it looked like the rest of his teammates were busy planning their next tattoos.  After the game, Lebron said all the right (albeit boring) things — officially kicking off what has the potential to be the most annoying 45 days of sports coverage of all time: ”Oh, where will Lebron sign!?!?!?!?”  Expect a month and a half of Farvian-coverage that will be more psychologically damaging than a Michael Irvin and Emmitt Smith production of “Hamlet.”  Until then, on to some headlines: 

• The Montreal Canadiens upset the Pittsburgh Penguins to advance to the Conference Finals.

• The Kansas City Royals fired manager Trey Hillman and replaced him with Ned Yost.

• Houston Texans linebacker Brian Cushing re-won the AP’s Defensive Rookie of the Year after a positive drug test led the AP to take a re-vote. 

Cushing is the third NFL Defensive Rookie of the Year to be suspended for performance-enhancing substances in the last eight seasons, following Julius Peppers and Shawne Merriman.  The equivalent to this in baseball would be if Evan Longoria, Ryan Howard and Hanley Ramirez all tested positive for PEDs. If that had come to pass Congress would be involved, columnists would have their heart medication doubled and we would all be forced to think of the children under penalty of law.

 

I don’t think I could say it any better, so I won’t.  Is this the worst NFL offseason ever?  I think so.  And while Cushing is clear to point out he did not have a positive test for steroids, I’ll let this picture do the talking:

 

Yeah, that’s all natural, baby. 

• Curt Schilling told ESPN that Stephen Strasburg could be the best pitcher in baseball when he is recalled from the minor leagues.

• The Miami Heat created a website entitled www.wewantwade.com in order to persuade the star to resign with the team.

• Toronto & Chris Bosh:  Since the G-20 is coming to town, the Raptors have scrapped their Bosh campaign and are just going to give him to Philly.
• Atlanta & Joe Johnson: The Hawks have offered to re-open the “Gold Club” with new manager Patrick Ewing. 
• Phoenix & Amare Stoudemire: They plan on scaring the hell out of him.  Three words: Zombie Steve Nash.
• Utah & Carlos Boozer: The Jazz will create a fake max offer from Cleveland, just so he can renege on it and resign with Utah.
• San Antonio & Manu Ginobli: A lifetime membership in the Hair Club for Men and a nose job on the arm. 
• Detroit Pistons & Kwame Brown: The Pistons are raising money to purchase a bus ticket to Charlotte, NC so Kwame can be reunited with the only person in the world who ever thought he’d be good at basketball: Michael Jordan.

• The farm used in the movie “Field of Dreams” is for sale.

We are just about three days away from the second-most important horse race in the United States.  Yes, it’s the 135th Preakness Stakes, and just in case you were hanging out in lovely Baltimore, MD this weekend and wanted to take in some racing, be forewarned, it might get messy.  Come along with me as we get ready for Baltimore’s Mardi Gras (what, you thought I was going to talk about the actual race?):
 

For Jamie Myers, going to the Preakness and letting loose on the infield is a rite of passage, a youthful, bawdy tradition that, for better or worse, will always remind him of growing up in Baltimore.

Oh man, I really hope Jamie doesn’t have a real job.  That’s a bad start.  Most places don’t like the word “bawdy” associated with anything.  And since it’s a word that probably hasn’t been used in a conversation between Baltimoreans this century, you know it’s really bad.
 

There are real photos and those just in his mind of the mind-boggling consumption [sic], the young women lifting their T-shirts, the epic carousing. He remembers that time when he and his buddies showed up outside Pimlico at 6 a.m. with two cases of beer, but by the time the gates opened at 9, they’d already drained it.

 
I think it’s pretty clear at this point Jamie is probably just your regular Federal Hill brah who slings beers at the local bar.  “Yo, Hoyt, gotta come to Preakness, there’s going to be some epic carousing!”  He can’t possibly have a job that requires any kind of decorum.  Furthermore, how long has horse racing been a place where you drink beers at 6am and see girls popping their tops like it’s Spring Break in Cancun?  Very brahsome.
 

Though he’s skipped it for a couple of years, the 34-year-old private school administrator…

 
No, brah! Nooooooooooo!!!!
 

Race officials have bent over backward to lure back revelers who abandoned the Preakness last year with the start of the BYOB ban. Badly needing them back, organizers brushed aside questions of taste and propriety to let young folks know that if they want debauchery, the Preakness is where they’ll find it. They announced cheaper tickets, hipper bands and a bikini contest. They broadcast a risque ad campaign urging former race-goers to come back and “Get Your Preak On.” They sent pretty girls out to hot spots in skimpy “Preak On” tank tops to cajole bar flies into buying tickets. And perhaps most vitally, they debuted a bottomless $20 mug of beer.

 
Translation: “Loyal booze hounds, we tried to clean things up.  We wanted to discourage alcohol abuse and make it a more family-friendly environment.  We failed.  We’re desperate.  We’re broke.  We’re whores.  Come to Preakness and feel free to drink yourself stupid on cheap beer.  Mouthbreathers welcome.”  What could go wrong?
 

Chris Glisson heard the call. They had him at bottomless beer.

 
At least he’s honest.  Soon to be unemployed with Jamie, but honest.
 

The 28-year-old tech worker who lives in Fells Point is giving the race another chance, mainly because with all the talk of beer and babes, it sounds like the Preakness might have rediscovered its boozy fundamentals.

 
Well, he’s a “tech worker,” so there’s one guy who’s probably going to be doing a lot more gawking than fighting — that’s a good sign.  P.S. I’d pay good money to hear Jay Bilas or Mel Kiper Jr. refer to a player’s “boozy fundamentals” during a draft broadcast.  Somebody send this to Keith Law, I think he’d do it.
 

Glisson created an invitation of sorts on Facebook, hoping he can get his friends to return, too.

 
Offffffff course he did. 
 

“It’s coming back,” he says of the Preakness. “In a way.”

 
Until the race goes broke and gets moved to a nicer track next year…  Or someone gets drunk and dies trying to steal a horse…  In that “way,” yes, it is coming back.
 

He thought the sheer possibility alone of the spectacle one might see worth the price of admission. “Where else do you go at 9 a.m. and there’s already a line of beer cans on the ground?” he says.

 
Just off the top of my head: Cancun, Key West, Acapulco, Panama City, Lake Havasu, every college football stadium on Saturdays in the fall and Keifer Sutherland’s house…   
 

A little Sodom. Perhaps a sprinkle of Gomorrah.

 
We’re talking about Baltimore, right?  I think you mean, “A little smack.  Perhaps a sprinkle of gonorrhea.”
 

“I don’t want this turning into a Kentucky Derby thing with everyone laidback and sipping cocktails — that’s not Baltimore,” he says. “Preakness is a totally unique Baltimore thing. There’s nothing like it.”

 
Yes, there is.  It’s called “Spring Break” and it happens every year in multiple cities all over the country.  And the only unique thing about it being in Baltimore is that unlike every other party, it will never go away, no matter how much penicillin you take. 
 
In other words, I’ll be there.

"Open bar, dude!"

So I think it’s safe to say the 2010 Seattle Mariners’ season has officially derailed.  Amid Cliff Lee’s injury, their clean-up hitter’s personal problems, and a sleepy Hall of Famer, the team is holding down last place in the AL West with an offense that defines “anemic.”  Early Tuesday afternoon, the right-handed version of Griffey, Mike Sweeney, threatened to fight the entire team.  This is assuming he can make it out of the lockeroom without being placed on the 15-day DL. 
 
Many “pundits” spent Spring Training calling Seattle GM Jack Zduriencik a “genius,” but that distinction now looks dubious at best.  Despite the need to prevent Sweeney from roundhouse-kicking his way through the clubhouse, they have to find their way out of the Griffey situation: a $2.35M commitment to the franchise’s greatest player… who hasn’t been an effective full-timer since 2007 (and has no desire to hang it up).  This has PR disaster written all over it.
 
Among Major League executives, for every Billy Beane and Andrew Friedman, there are still folks like Ruben Amaro and Zduriencik: general managers who fail to make dispassionate decisions and are apt to commit millions of dollars to players who exhibit little quantitative value but possess intangible skills like “grit” and “guts.”  They fall for nostalgia and sentimentality, feelings that are more appropriate for an ex-girlfriend as opposed to an aged outfielder who can’t play.  Anyone who watched Griffey’s 2009 season knew he was done: his .214 batting average, .735 OPS and 19 homeruns were barely passable for a DH on a poor team — much less one that envisioned itself as a contender in 2010.  Even his teammates knew it: after the team’s last homestand in 2009 they carried Griffey off the field.  When he came back to Seattle looking for a place to play in 2010, for some reason, the team obliged.
 
Griffey may be holding on for selfish reasons, but he deserves a lot better than to be made to look like the tired old man who was too sleepy to pinch hit.  Zduriencik and club president Chuck Armstrong made the mistake to bring Junior back, now they should have to live with it.