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Shuffling through the rumor, the hype, the gossip, and the facts, one by one

COUNTING BACKWARDS FROM 3½

So here we go again. It's starting, and my spine is pounding, but I'm trying not to get too sucked in . . .at least not just yet. It's not that I don't want to, and it's not that I'm pessimistic--I just don't want to do it all over again. Last year was too much, and I don't know if I can handle that much emotion again. I've been down this abyss before and it's not a happy place. It's excruciating and exhilarating and terrifying. Logically, I don't want to go down this road again . . .but of course, like the sucker I am, I'm getting drawn in like all the rest. So here we go.

It's the Red Sox, of course, once again treating their faithful fans like a philandering, no-good husband treats his good lady wife. And yet somehow we just keep going back to them. The annual This-Could-Be-The-Year tease is upon us again, this time in the guise of an improbable post-Nomar explosion, a nine-game winning streak and a narrowing deficit in the seemingly unconquerable A.L. East. It's been such a magical August that what once was a lost cause now looks not only possible, but perhaps even likely. Surely this all sounds familiar.

Finally, we can remove the labels ("underachiever," "disaster waiting to happen") that have stuck so stubbornly to the Sox all season long. After all of this year's chaos, there's going to be something to play for after all. The Sox have created plenty of distance between their wild-card competitors and, with six games of head-to-head play with the Yankees this month, that 3½-game lead doesn't look all too daunting.

Of course, there's still a month to go. And that 3½-game deficit is a deficit nonetheless. And the Yankees are bound to break out of their slump soon enough. And they do have history on their side. Of course, so do the Sox--only it's the kind of history we'd like to forget. This is called pessimism.

But right about now is the time you start seeing the signs and chants around Fenway Park and sports bars nationwide. We Still Believe. I Want to Believe. I Have to Believe.

I'll be honest with you. I don't want to believe this year. I don't. But, call me a sucker, the fact is that I do. I look at the Yanks' 3½-game lead and I'm not scared. I look at the Yanks' thin pitching rotation and worn-out bullpen and I see only vulnerability. I look at the Sox and Yanks on paper and it makes me laugh. I have absolutely no reason to believe this year will be any different than any other, but I believe anyway. I know, I know, I felt the exact same way last year. Like I said, I'm a sucker. Logically, I know it will probably end badly. But I still believe.

THE KOBE BRYANT RACE TRIAL?

So an entire year of everyone's lives has been wasted. Great. I hope the citizens of Colorado are proud of their District Attorney. A year after Kobe Bryant's arrest looked like it could become this generation's O.J., it's all moot. An entire case that hinged on the accuser's testimony, and she backed out. Case closed. All she needs now is a monetary settlement from the pending civil trial. All Kobe needs is a few months to get his reputation intact--and trust me, given the post-criminal controversies of Ray Lewis and Latrell Sprewell, I'd say Kobe will do just fine in the public eye.

ESPN's loudest talking head, Stephen A. Smith, remarked after Kobe's case was dismissed that he was happy with the dismissal--get this--as both "an NBA fan and as an African-American." Right, because someone always has to play the race card. This is an issue regarding whether or not a prominent professional athlete raped a young woman, and of course someone has to trivialize it by making it about race--after the case is already closed, no less. This is one of the most popular athletes in the world we're talking about. This is a guy whose innocence is always going to be in serious doubt, a guy who will never be fully exonerated in the public eye. If there had been a trial, and we could have seen and heard all the evidence for ourselves, and we could have made our decisions and been convinced that he was not guilty of the alleged rape, then fine, be happy about the outcome. Be happy as an NBA fan and as an African-American. Otherwise, let's put a moratorium on the race card until it's actually valid, okay? I hope that's not too much to ask.

SANDLER AND DIESEL GOT GAME?

On the heels of the highly disturbing news that the remake of the sports classic "The Longest Yard" will star none other than Adam Sandler and Chris Rock, comes the equally distressing revelation that Vin Diesel, Mr. Monotone himself, is set to star as Joe Louis in Spike Lee's upcoming biopic. Just let that simmer in your brain for a few seconds.

Folks, these are the things crappy sports movies are made of (i.e. "The Replacements," "Any Given Sunday"). I'm a big Spike Lee fan and I typically trust his judgment when it comes to filmmaking, but I've gotta raise my hand this time. Aside from the fact that Vin Diesel looks nothing like Joe Louis, one mustn't overlook the fact that Diesel, um, can't act. Did you see "The Chronicles of Riddick"? Yeah, neither did I.

Who's gonna play Max Schmelling, I wonder. Carrot Top?

The "Longest Yard" remake is an even bigger catastrophe, though, because it's soiling the good name of an established classic. What's next, a new version of "Raging Bull," starring Will Ferrell? A new "Field of Dreams" with Freddie Prinze, Jr. and Sarah Michelle Gellar?

Because the new "The Longest Yard" will star Sandler and Rock, it assures that the film will be: A) a comedy; and B) not funny. The two stars' film resumes speak for themselves. And the best part is how the cast will be rounded out. Playing the rest of the roles as violent criminals/prison inmates will be a handful of rappers and hip-hop artists. (Hint: Now's the time to play that race card, Stephen. Seriously.) I'm really, truly shuddering. I dread the day the remake opens nationwide, makes $200 million and wins an MTV Movie Award while the original sinks into obscurity. The horror . . .the horror.

SUPERSTITION IN THE AIR

I'm turning into my mother. Now, that may come as a shock considering I'm a member of the male persuasion, but just let me explain. My mother, bless her soul, has long been a believer in the theory that wins and losses are decided by nothing more than who has the nicest uniform. Silly rabbit, I told her. Sports are for boys.

Anyway, I've decided that she may have a point after all. It's not a matter of whoever has the best uniform wins--no, it goes far deeper than that. I began to realize it last season, but it only began to fully dawn on me when Ricky Williams abruptly retired this summer. What had the Dolphins done to deserve this? I asked myself that day. How had they upset the gods? And I found my answer. It was a Sunday night game late last season, and the Dolphins donned a new look so dreadful I can't even bring myself to call it a "uniform." An outfit, maybe. Or a costume. But definitely not a uniform. Let me put it this way--it's something Michael Irvin and Deion Sanders would never be caught dead in. If you remember, they stormed onto the field wearing painfully bright, ghastly neon orange jerseys, simultaneously inducing millions of epileptic seizures across the nation. I envied the days of the black-and-white television set.

And what has happened since then? Aside from the `Phins' typical late-season collapse, Williams--the best player on the roster and Miami's only decent running back--retired and inexplicably headed for the Himalayas. Their big free-agent pickup, David Boston, went out for the year with a knee injury. And, in the most bizarre move of all, the team retained Dave Wannstedt as head coach. Coincidence? I'd say it's punishment.

And I noticed that this has been an ongoing trend for the last several years. Just look back to the 2000 season, when Tennessee's newly-dubbed "Titans" decided to wear figure-skating uniforms over their shoulder pads. You don't think Kevin Dyson's heartbreaking stretch to the one-yard line was some sort of cosmic joke? You don't think God was cackling with delight?

Notice how Notre Dame never seems to win when the Irish wear their green jerseys, rather than their standard white or navy blue. Notice what has happened to the once-powerful BYU program since changing its look. Or the disastrous 2003 season of the Oregon Ducks, who gave the Dolphins a run for their money by wearing bright yellow jerseys all season long. Same goes for the Buffalo Bills, whose new uniforms were, according to my sources, made by hand out of old curtains at a summer camp for hyperactive children.

Do you doubt my logic? Just you wait--I predict pain and suffering for the Cincinnati Bengals this season. (Have you seen those redesigned unis?)

LOOK WHO'S BACK, BACK AGAIN

Lennox Lewis, you're on the clock. The past few weeks have brought, as you all surely know, news and rumors concerning the annual glut of (usually ill-fated) comeback attempts. Riddick Bowe, of all people, is set to make an improbable, and surely ill-advised, comeback attempt now that he's fresh off a prison sentence for kidnapping his wife and children. Personally, I'm just happy he's out of prison, as both a boxing fan and an African-American. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.) Proving the unwritten rule that no boxer can ever stay retired, even when he's undergone slight or even severe brain damage, Bowe says he believes he can regain the championship belt he once earned. Once Lewis makes his inevitable return to the ring, Bowe should be a pushover.

Even more disturbing is the news that Alonzo Mourning will attempt a comeback this season with the Nets. Who's giving this guy career advice? Mike Tyson? Have years worth of life-threatening kidney disease, complications andtransplants somehow made him stupider, or less aware of the value of life? Or is he simply blinded by ego? I'll never understand it.

The biggest official comeback news, of course, was that of Deion Sanders, who will join the Ravens as their nickel back. It should be a nice fit, too--purple always was his color.

And finally, in what should come as absolutely no surprise to anyone with a shred of common sense, the rumors are already flying that Michael Jordan is planning yet another comeback, this time with the Miami Heat. Of course, these rumors have been brushed off as nothing more than unsubstantiated gossip, and maybe that's all it is. Personally, I hope it doesn't happen. His last comeback was depressing enough; not just because of his sluggishness and inconsistency, but because his motives were so clearly self-serving that he antagonized and completely alienated his teammates and the entire Washington Wizards organization. So for that reason, I hope he's done for good. But the rumors are out there, and they're growing. And honestly, would anyone be surprised?

Copyright © 2004 by Chris Bellamy

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