Pro Football Hall Of Fame 2010 - The New Members

Listed below are the seven 2010 inductees into the Pro Football Hall Of Fame. It is quite the illustrious group, and should make for a very exciting ceremony. Click on the names for a short video clip of each player.

RUSS GRIMM - Washington Redskins

RICKEY JACKSON - New Orleans Saints, San Francisco 49'ers

DICK LeBEAU - Detroit Lions

FLOYD LITTLE - Denver Broncos

JOHN RANDLE - Minnesota Vikings, Seattle Seahawks

JERRY RICE - San Francisco 49'ers, Oakland Raiders, Seattle Seahawks

EMMITT SMITH - Dallas Cowboys, Arizona Cardinals

PRO FOOTBALL HALL OF FAME 2010

The heat of summer is building to a crescendo. The national boredom with the meaningless middle-portion of the Major League Baseball season has reached it's peak. The smell of professional football training camps is in the air. This can only mean one thing, the Pro Football Hall Of Fame Induction Ceremony is soon to arrive! -FUPPETS- is always ecstatic about this august event. Between the football history on display, the small-town celebrations in Canton Ohio, the always long, but always heartfelt and meaningful acceptance speeches, and the official start of the new season with the Hall Of Fame Game which ends the ceremonies, it is truly a wonderful weekend for the football fanatic.

While all the major and even minor sports have their own Halls of Fame, with their own respective ceremony and pomp, the Pro Football Hall Of Fame (HOF from now on) is in a class all it's own. -FUPPETS- has thought long and hard about why this is so for the Football HOF, as opposed to the boring presentations for the baseball hall in Cooperstown, or the basketball ceremonies which seem more like a press conference. The answer may lie in that everything, and -FUPPETS- means EVERYTHING, about the Football HOF weekend is run by the good people of Canton Ohio, a small town on the periphery of Akron.

These volunteers plan so many events, and run them with a love and efficiency that shames the corporate circle jerk of the basketball and baseball HOF ceremonies. The event last for an entire week. So many of the enshrined players from years past come back to support the new entrants into their exclusive fraternity. They all bring their families and are treated with the type of thoughtful and loving care that only family can provide, for the people of Canton do their utmost every year to make certain that the Hall of Famers never forget their moment in the sun. There are events for the kids of HOF members. Volunteers prepare events for the wives of the Hall Of Famers. There is a morning parade which effectively shuts down Canton, for over 100,000 people (in a town of around 78,000) line the Main Street of Canton. At the actual site of the HOF there is a midway and carnival and food stands set up for visitors to enjoy. There is the official Member's Only dinner where the new entrants are presented their gold jackets, and everyone shares stories of their lives in football, going back to some of the oldest HOF members describing the way professional football was when they played, 50, 60, or in rare cases 70 years ago.

Visiting the HOF Ceremonies is a treat that no football fan should miss. Wandering the exhibits of the HOF alone is magnificent, and then you reach THE ROOM. The very heart of the HOF is the room where all the busts of every enshrinee are arranged in the chronological order in which the individuals were inducted. Arranged throughout the room are video monitors where one can watch highlights of every member, as well as learn their history and backgrounds. It is overwhelmingly fantastic. (click images to enlarge)

One other fabulous thing about a trip to the HOF Induction Ceremony is that you never know who you will see, or run into, for football players from all the NFL's history come by to visit, support teammates or coaches who are being honored, etc. -FUPPETS- was flabbergasted to eat breakfast at the Cracker Barrell one table away from Packers legend Bart Starr and his wife.
Super Bowl rings are EVERYWHERE! If you are a football fanatic, and I know there are many out there, you owe it to yourself, and your family, to take the trip to Canton Ohio at least once in your life. -FUPPETS- was there to support the induction of Warren Moon, as well as the inductions of John Madden, Troy Aikman, Reggie White, and others. It will never be forgotten.

-FUPPETS- will be watching the ceremony this weekend on ESPN. A post containing bios of every 2010 inductee is coming shortly.

-FUPPETS- Top Ten Things About The World Cup 2010

(Besides the matches themselves, of course)

1. VUVUZELAS. If there is one thing that -FUPPETS- endorses it is chaotic random noise/drone/skronk. Most important futbol matches have a constant barrage of noise from the fanatics in the stands. The South African fans have taken it up to the next level. They have the vuvuzelas, plastic trumpets which, when blasted by tens of thousands of fans, sound like the most angry swarm of killer bees one can imagine! -FUPPETS- Loves This! So many idiots have been complaining about them, saying the buzz-roar is too much for their tender ears coming out of their TV speakers. MORONS. -FUPPETS- prefers to see the vuvuzelas as a communal noise/drone improvisation, much like the "noise" bands out there, but with so much more volume and force and animus. They definitely are better than the piped-in music soundbites they play at NBA games interminably. Wolf Eyes could learn a thing or two.

2. UNIVISION ANNOUNCERS' MISPRONUNCIATION. It is difficult enough to pronounce the names of athletes from around the world, but the play-by-play announcers on Univision have managed to make almost an art form out of it! Listening to them mangle the last names of players from the world over is a true joy. The Korean names were particularly cringe-worthy and entertaining. It is even funnier to see them try to pronounce names that, phonetically, sound like curse words in Spanish! Hilarious!

3. THE LADIES OF UNIVISION. While American sports broadcasting puts on airs of self-importance and seriousness, Latin American sports programs understand and accept their role. Sports are entertainment. Sports are a distraction from the shithole lives led by most. Whereas American pregame shows treat the event as a deadly serious endeavour and focus on three British dudes behind a desk (British because their accent lends hefty weight to their opinions, since Americans are brainwashed into believing British people are automatically more refined and proper and learned), the good people at Univision treat the World Cup as what it is for the fans, a party to be celebrated and enjoyed and relished! They pack their studio with not only the on-air talent, but a band, a raucous audience, and dozens upon dozens of the most beautiful women they can find, all dancing and cheering and adding to the festive atmosphere that the World Cup should be to all fans. It is a celebration of lusty life whereas the ESPN coverage seems like a funeral procession. Latino television shows wonderfully solid, delicious women, not the stick figures that pass for hot women on American TV. This is a large part of the reason why so many English viewers watch the coverage on Univision instead of ESPN. Can you blame them?

4. SOUTH AFRICAN FANS. The people of South Africa have been awaiting this World Cup for years and years and they are doing their utmost to support each and every team and nation participating. It is a beautiful thing to watch and hear. They really should be proud of the effort they are showing. The various stadiums are always full, even when the actual countrymen of the teams participating cannot fill the stadium up. The South African fans are there to watch high caliber sport and they are enjoying the hell out of it.

5. ONE MATCH AT A TIME. The format is such a refreshing thing to see. Each match is of equal importance and magnitude and because of this there are never two matches at the same time. In the first round, there are three matches a day, and this allows for the world to focus on each match individually. This is something that is foreign to American sports viewers, who are usually forced to pick and choose between simultaneous events. This also keeps any one match from being overlooked. The world is indeed watching.

6. LIVE MATCHES ON UNIVISION.COM . Since this World Cup is taking place in South Africa, which is 8 hours ahead of much of the United States, the matches take place very early in the day here. To better enjoy the matches, Univision has been streaming each of the matches live on it's site. The buffering is quick and the stream is as smooth and perfect as it can get. ESPN is trying the same thing but their stream, over at ESPN3.com, just plain SUCKS. It is slow to buffer, drops at random times, and just overloads with excess adverts and pop-ups. The Univision stream is near perfection and it helps so much when enjoying the World Cup on one's computer.

7. STADIUMS. One of the leading worries of people as we all headed into this 2010 World Cup was the facilities which were to host these matches. Now that we are one week into this competition it is plain to see that South Africa really did it up right. The various stadiums are all beautiful in their own way and immaculate. They are truly gorgeous on the television screen and seem to be ideal places for fans to gather and support their home nation's teams. -FUPPETS- hopes that the fans in attendance are enjoying themselves!

8. TENSION. People watch sports and sporting events for many reasons. One overarching reason for sports love is the emotional rush provided to the viewer by the actions of their team. In Futbol, this takes on it's own specific nature. By virtue of the lack of play stoppage, other than at halftime, the already violent tension is ramped up steadily, slowly but surely, as the clock winds to the 45 minute mark of each half. There is no time for a fan to catch their breath, or to relax, or to go take a leak during a commercial break, for there are no commercial breaks! As a fan, one must devote a steady 90 minutes to the match. Hope never dies, but it indeed does get desperate as the time starts to run out! It makes for great sports watching. The immense catharsis of one's team scoring a goal is unmatched in sport.

9. ENJOYING IT WHILE IT LASTS. Much like the Olympics, but in a more concentrated and powerful form, the World Cup draws the attention of the nations of the world. Unlike the Olympics, which have so many events and so many different combinations of opponents, the World Cup is composed of whichever 32 nations made it through their various qualifying tournaments, all playing only one sport. Just making it there to compete is an accomplishment in and of itself for many nations. The World Cup has an "enjoy it while it lasts" quality not found in any other sporting event. This is evident in all the announcers, participators, sponsors, athletes, coaches, and fanatics. It is indeed a worldwide party. Everyone knows that it will only last one month, and that only for the teams that get far in the tournament, but there is always hope that one's team will be in the final!

10. REPUBLICA DEPORTIVA. The single most watched Spanish-language sports show in all of the United States. It is easy to see why. Univision is truly nearly universal throughout much of the USA. If you want to see why Hispanics love their sports shows, check this out.

In Honor of the Upcoming World Cup 2010

-FUPPETS- is glad to share a great piece that ESPN has put together. The World Cup is such a BIG THING, such an amazing worldwide sports obsession, that glory and legend can come to those who excel at the most important times. The folks at ESPN have created a page that details some of the players who have scored goals in the World Cup Finals Matches, from the 1950's to the present.
The stories they tell and the passion with which they played really gets the hunger started for what promises to be a great "Mundial" (as they call it in latinoamerica, meaning "world contest") being held in South Africa this year. Sports is a human endeavor, just like the Arts, the Sciences, and all other fields of human achievement. Enjoy.

SUPER BOWL & Two Beers

The SUPER BOWL is nearly upon us once again. -FUPPETS- avidly supports the beauty and mayhem of professional football, and this year the Championship Game is poised to be one for the ages. One of the most decorated and praised teams ever, the Pittsburgh Steelers, are facing off against the perennial loser team of the NFL, The Arizona Cardinals.
For many people, the Super Bowl is a day to feast and party, to hang with friends watching the big game. For many others the Super Bowl is an occasion to witness spectacle at it's most hyped, to watch the commercials and to discuss the halftime show. For US soldiers/seamen/airmen stationed overseas however, the Super Bowl is a special time.
Many bases work on skeleton crews to allow as many soldiers to watch the game as possible. There are satellite feeds and impromptu celebrations throughout all military bases worldwide. This year, in Iraq, the soldiers have been promised two beers each to enjoy with the Super Bowl, and they are righteously looking forward to them!.
ESPN has filed a great story about this, and about the men and women serving overseas.

TWO BEERS IN THE DESERT: On Super Bowl Sunday, American Military Personnel Stationed in Iraq Will Enjoy A Couple Of Historic Cold Ones. - ( Wright Thompson - ESPN )

Sam "Slingin' Sammy" Baugh (3/17/1914 - 12/17/2008) - R.I.P.

Samuel Adrian Baugh, or "Slingin' Sammy" Baugh as he was known to all those who follow and love professional football, has passed away at the age of 94. Sam Baugh was the last surviving member of the Inaugural Class of the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1963.
A two-time All-American as a student at Texas Christian University, Sammy Baugh played for the Washington Redskins from 1937 to 1952. When he was drafted he signed an $8,000 contract to become the highest paid player on the team. That money was well-spent, as he led the Redskins to the NFL title in his rookie year and again in 1942.

Baugh was the best all-around player in an era when such versatility was essential. In 1943, he led the league in passing, punting and defensive interceptions. In one game, he threw four touchdown passes and intercepted four as well. He threw six touchdowns passes in a game twice. His 51.4-yard punting average in 1940 is still the NFL record. (AP)

Sam Baugh is often rightly credited with bringing the forward pass to the forefront of the NFL team's offenses.

Baugh still holds Redskins records for career touchdown passes (187) and completion percentage in a season (70.3). His 31 interceptions on defense are third on the team's career list.

He played his entire career without a face mask, and his number 33 is the only number the Redskins have ever retired. Until his last day Sam remained a huge fan of the NFL Football.

"I'll watch it all damn day long," Baugh, who often sprinkled his conversation with mild obscenities, told The Associated Press in a 2002 interview. "I like the football they play. They got bigger boys, and they've also got these damn speed merchants that we didn't have in those days. I'd love to be quarterback this day and time."

The list of records and accomplishments goes on and on. His bust resides in the Pro Football Hall of Fame along with the other greats, and his impact on professional football was immeasurable. Here is a link to his Hall Of Fame Enshrinement speech.

HUNTER S. THOMPSON & HOUSTON, TEXAS (Part 3)

(Continuing saga of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson in Houston, Texas, reporting on the Miami Dolphins and the Minnessota Vikings duking it out in Super Bowl VIII (1974). Read Part 1 here. Read Part 2 here. Excerpted from The Great Shark Hunt - Ballantine Books)

Back in the room I filled a glass full of ice and Wild Turkey, then began flipping through the pages of "A Demon's Nightmare" for some kind of spiritual springboard to get the sermon moving. I had already decided - about midway in the ice-run - that I had adequate time to address the sleeping crowd and also crank out a lead before that goddamn blood-sucking slug reached the base of my brain - or even worse, if a sharp dose of Wild Turkey happened to slow the thing down long enough to rob me of my final excuse for missing the game entirely, like last year . . .
What? Did my tongue slip there? My fingers? Or did I just get a fine professional hint from my old buddy, Mr. Natural?
Indeed. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. John Mitchell said that - shortly before he quit his job and left Washington at 90 miles an hour in a chauffeur-driven limousine.
I have never felt close to John Mitchell, but on that rotten morning in Houston I came as close as I ever will: because he was, after all, a pro . . . and so, alas, was I. Or at least I had a fistful of press badges that said I was.
And it was this bedrock sense of professionalism, I think, that quickly solved my problem . . . which, until that moment when I recalled the foul spectre of Mitchell, had seemed to require a frantic decision between either delivering my sermon or writing my lead, in the space of an impossibly short time.
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
Who said that?
I suspect it was somebody from the Columbia Journalism Review, but I have no proof . . . and it makes no difference anyway. There is a bond, among pros, that needs no definition. Or at least it didn't on that Sunday morning in Houston, for reasons that require no further discussion at this point in time . . . because it suddenly occurred to me that I had already written the lead for this year's Super Bowl game; I wrote it last year in Los Angeles, and a quick rip through my fat manila folder of clips labeled "Football '73" turned it up as if by magic.
I jerked it out of the file, and retyped it on a fresh page slugged: "Super Bowl/Houston '74." The only change necessary was the substitution of "Minnesota Vikings" for "Washington Redskins." Except for that, the lead seemed just as adequate for the game that would begin in about six hours as it was for the one that I missed in Los Angeles in January of '73.
"The precision-jackhammer attack of the Miami Dolphins stomped the balls off of the Minnesota Vikings today by stomping and hammering with one precise jack-thrust after another up the middle, mixed with pinpoint-precision passes into the flat and numerous hammer-jack stops around both ends . . . "

The jangling of the telephone caused me to interrupt my work. I jerked it off the hook, saying nothing to whoever was on the other end, and began flashing the hotel operator. When she finally cut in I spoke very calmly. "Look," I said. "I'm a very friendly person and a minister of the gospel, to boot - but I thought I left instructions down there to put no calls - NO CALLS. GODDAMNIT! - through to this room, and especially not now in the middle of this orgy . . . I've been here eight days and nobody's called me yet. Why in the hell would they start now? . . . What? Well, I simply can't accept that kind of flimsy reasoning, operator. Do you believe in Hell? Are you ready to speak with Saint Peter? . . . Wait a minute now, calm down . . . I want to be sure you understand one thing before I get back to my business; I have some people here who need help . . . But I want you to know God is Holy! He will not allow sin in his presence! The Bible says" 'There is none righteous. No, not one . . . for all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.' That's from the book of Romans, young lady . . . "
The silence at the other end of the line was beginning to make me nervous. But I could feel the sap rising, so I decided to continue my sermon from the balcony . . . and suddenly I realized that somebody was beating on my door. Jesus god, I thought, it's the manager; they've come for me at last.

HUNTER S. THOMPSON & HOUSTON, TEXAS (PART 2)

(Continuing saga of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson in Houston, Texas, reporting on the Miami Dolphins and the Minnessota Vikings duking it out in Super Bowl VIII. Read Part 1 here. Excerpted from The Great Shark Hunt - Ballantine Books )

I howled at the top of my lungs for almost 30 minutes, raving and screeching about all those who would soon be cast into the lake of fire, for a variety of low crimes, misdemeanors, and general ugliness that amounted to a sweeping indictment of almost everybody in the hotel at that hour.
Most of them were asleep when I began speaking, but as a Doctor of Divinity and an ordained minister in the Church of the New Truth, I knew in my heart that I was merely a vessel - a tool as it were - of some higher and more powerful voice.
For eight long and degrading days I had skulked around Houston with all the other professionals, doing our jobs - which was actually to do nothing at all except drink all the free booze we could pour into our bodies, courtesy of the National Football League, and listen to an endless barrage of some of the lamest and silliest swill ever uttered by man or beast . . . and finally, on Sunday morning about six hours before the opening kickoff, I was racked to the point of hysteria by a hellish interior conflict.I was sitting by myself in the room, watching the wind and the weather clock on the TV set, when I felt a sudden and extremely powerful movement at the base of my spine. Mother of Sweating Jesus! I thought. What is it - a leech? Are there leeches in this goddamn hotel, along with everything else? I jumped off the bed and began clawing at the small of my back with both hands. The thing felt huge, maybe eight or nine pounds, moving slowly up my spine to the base of my neck.
I'd been wondering all week, why I was feeling so low and out of sorts . . . but it never occurred to me that a giant leech had been sucking blood out of the base of my spine all that time: and now the goddamn thing was moving up towards the base of my brain, going straight for the medulla . . . and as a professional sportswriter I knew that if the bugger ever reached my medulla I was done for.
It was at this point that serious conflict set in, because I realized - given the nature of what was coming up my spine and the drastic effect I knew it would have, very soon, on my sense of journalistic responsibility - that I would have to do two things immediately: First, deliver the sermon that had been brewing in my brain all week long, and then rush back into the room to write my lead for the Super Bowl story . . .
Or maybe write my lead first, and then deliver the sermon. In any case, there was no time to lose. The thing was about a third of the way up my spine now, and still moving at good speed. I jerked on a pair of L.L.Bean stalking shorts and ran out on the balcony to a nearby ice machine.

HUNTER S. THOMPSON & HOUSTON, TEXAS (PART 1)

The date was January, 1974. Rice Stadium in Houston, Texas was the site chosen for Super Bowl VIII, a contest between the NFC champ Minnesota Vikings and the AFC champ Miami Dolphins, fresh off of a perfect season the year before. Dr. Hunter S. Thompson was in town to cover the game. (Excerpted from The Great Shark Hunt: Gonzo Papers Vol. I: Strange Tales From a Strange Time)


FEAR & LOATHING AT THE SUPER BOWL

"...and whosoever was not found written into the book of life was cast into the lake of fire..." - Revelations 20:15

This was the theme of the sermon I delivered off the 20th floor balcony of the Hyatt Regency in Houston the morning of Super Bowl VIII. It was just before dawn, as I recall, when the urge to speak came on me. Earlier that day I had found - on the tile floor of the Men's Room on the hotel mezzanine - a religious comic book titled "A Demon's Nightmare," and it was from the text of this sleazy tract that I chose the words of my sermon.
The Houston Hyatt Regency - like others designed by architect John Portman in Atlanta and San Francisco - is a stack of 1000 rooms, built around a vast lobby at least 30 stories high, with a revolving "spindletop" bar on the roof. The whole center of the building is a tower of acoustical space. You can walk out of any room and look over the indoor balcony (20 floors down in my case) at the palm-shrouded, wood and Naugahyde maze of the bar/lounge on the lobby floor.
Closing time in Houston is 2:00 AM. There are after-hours bars, but the Hyatt Regency is not one of them. So - when I was seized by the urge to deliver my sermon at dawn - there were only about 20 ant-sized people moving around in the lobby far below.
Earlier, before the bar closed, the whole ground floor had been jammed with drunken sportswriters, hard-eyed hookers, wandering geeks and hustlers (of almost every persuasion), and a legion of big and small gamblers from all over the country who roamed through the drunken, randy crowd - as casually as possible - with an eye to picking up a last minute sucker bet from some poor bastard half-mad on booze and willing to put some money, preferably four or five big ones, on "his boys."
The spread, in Houston, was Miami by six, but by midnight on Saturday almost every one of the two-thousand or so drunks in the lobby of the regency - official headquarters and media vortex for this eighth annual Super Bowl - was absolutely sure about what was going to happen when the deal went down on Sunday, about two miles east of the hotel on the fog-soaked artificial turf of Rice University Stadium.

Ah ... but wait! Why are we talking about gamblers here? Or thousands of hookers and drunken sportswriters jammed together in a seething mob in the lobby of a Houston hotel?
And what kind of sick and twisted impulse would cause a professional sportswriter to deliver a sermon from the Book of Revelations off his hotel balcony on the dawn of Super Sunday?
I had not planned a sermon for that morning. i had not even planned to be in Houston for that matter ... But now, looking back on that outburst, I see a certain inevitability about it. Probably it was a crazed and futile effort to somehow explain the extremely twisted nature of my relationship with God, Nixon, and the National Football League: The three had long become inseparable in my mind, a sort of unholy trinity that had caused me more trouble and personal anguish in the past few months than Ron Ziegler, Hubert Humphrey and Peter Sheridan all together had caused me in a year on the campaign trail.
Or perhaps it had something to do with my admittedly deep-seated need to have public revenge on Al Davis, general manager of the Oakland Raiders ... Or maybe an overweening desire to confess that I had been wrong, from the start, to have ever agreed with Richard Nixon about anything, and especially pro football.
In any case, it was apparently something I'd been cranking myself up to deliver for quite a while ... and, for reasons I still can't be sure of, the eruption finally occurred on the dawn of Super Sunday.

(more Hunter S. Thompson & Houston, Texas to come.)

HAKEEM OLAJUWON - Hall of Fame Inductee

Today, the greatest sports hero the city of Houston has ever had, Hakeem "The DREAM" Olajuwon, is to be inducted into the Naismith Memorial Pro Basketball Hall Of Fame. (be forewarned, the basketball hall of fame website sucks ass)

Hakeem began his basketball career at the University of Houston, as part of Phi Slamma Jamma, and leading U of H to three consecutive Final Four appearances. "DREAM" brought the first major championship to Houston since the days of the American Football League in the 50's/60's. He then proceeded to do it again the year after, giving us memories to carry for our entire lives. After the first championship, driving home after the game, seeing thousands upon thousands of people standing on the streets cheering and cars honking and crowds gathered outside of the Summit, the feeling was amazing. Getting to see it again the year after was just icing on the cake.



Fran Blinebury, of the Houston Chronicle, writes about Olajuwon's journey from Lagos in Nigeria to Houston, Texas.


Hakeem Olajuwon is the greatest center to play in the N.B.A. these last 25 years. The year the Rockets won their first championship Hakeem Olajuwon was awarded the League's Most Valuable Player award, the League's Defensive Player of The Year award, and the N.B.A. Finals' Most Valuable Player award, the ONLY MAN IN N.B.A. HISTORY TO DO SO. "Dream" retired with the record for most blocked shots, and 7th in all-time steals, as well as leading the Houston Rockets in nearly every offensive and defensive stat category.


Tonight he joins the man that beat him in the NCAA Championship, and whom he beat in the NBA Championship, Patrick Ewing, as inductees into the Pro Basketball Hall Of Fame. They came into the N.B.A. together and they enter the Hall of Fame together. It is only fitting.

Here are some videos for your pleasure, hand-chosen by -FUPPETS-.

The first is Hakeem Olajuwon's Top 10 Plays as chosen by ESPN.

Perhaps my fondest memory of "Dream" was when the Rockets were fighting the San Antonio Spurs in the playoffs. Spurs center David Robinson was voted the NBA Most valuable Player, a year after Olajuwon had earned that award. Olajuwon, and many others, felt that the 1995 MVP trophy should have gone to him again. The MVP trophy was awarded to Robinson before the start of their series together. According to his teammates, Hakeem and them sat in their locker room, watching the NBA commissioner hand Robinson the award, and Hakeem said "That man has my trophy." For a soft-spoken man, this was as much as he was going to say about it. He would proceed to put on one of the greatest single-player efforts ever witnessed in the NBA playoffs, leading his Rockets to victory in the series against David Robinson, and effectively emphasizing who truly deserved to be named League MVP that year. Here is a short summary of that ass-kicking.

The Houston Rockets celebrated Hakeem Olajuwon's entry into the Hall of fame at Toyota Center, in front of the fans. Houston loves us some "Dream."

Congratulations Hakeem Olajuwon. You deserve all of it and more. Thank you for the memories.

Olympic Gold For Art? Bring It On!

The modern Olympic games began in 1898. Between the years of 1912 and 1948 the Olympics not only awarded medals for athletic achievement but also gave medals for artistic achievement.
Medals were awarded in oil painting, watercolor painting, sculpture, architecture, music and literature. These events were judged and the artists received the exact same medals as the athletes.

At the 1932 L.A. Games, the arts component had 540 entries from 24
countries. No chants of "USA" accompanied the competition. Teams of judges
quietly evaluated the works, all of which had to have a sports theme.Most
were in the visual arts and were exhibited at the Los Angeles Museum of
History, Science and Art (now the Natural History Museum), where 384,000
members of the public viewed them, according to the official report on the
Games. -David Colker - LA Times

That is pretty fucking cool. The modern world seems to value specialization much more these days, and the idea of combining the arts and athletics seems anathema to most Americans. It was not so for the modern Olympic Games founder.

The arts competitions were not part of the first modern Olympics in 1896.
But the founder of the revived Games, Baron Pierre de Coubertin, had long
toyed with the idea.
Writing in a French sports magazine in 1891, he proposed an event consisting of a 14-kilometer race and written essay. Not simultaneously. That event never made it into the Games, but De Coubertin pressed on, declaring in a 1906 speech that it was time to "reunite in the bonds of legitimate wedlock a long-divorced couple -- muscle and mind."
The arts competition debuted at the 1912 Games in Stockholm where an
American, Walter Winans, won the gold for sculpture. But he didn't stop there.
Winans also took silver in the 100-meter team running single shots
competition, thus becoming the only Olympian in history to win both for
sculpture and shooting.

This is an image of Lee Blair's niece, Jeanne Chamberlain, holding the gold medal her uncle won in the 1932 Olympics for a watercolor painting.

The complete LA Times story can be read here.

It is once again time to join these two worlds. It is a great source of consternation to find that, as an artist and art lover, the art world sees sport and athletics as incongruous with artistic temperament. The sports world, on the other hand, seems to find the arts a laughable joke, completely incompatible with an athletic mind-set. The well-rounded human should have an appreciation for both these forms of human expression and human achievement. It is a difficult thing to try to change people's minds.

THE THRILL OF VICTORY, THE AGONY OF DEFEAT

Sometimes in sporting events the crowd is treated to magnificent displays of athletic prowess and delicate agility. Sometimes the audience is forced to endure the worst of agonies. This is one of those times. If you are a squeamish person, you may not want to gaze upon this video.

(*thanks to DListed for the video link)


That is Hungarian weightlifter Janos Baranyai, doing the squirm/flop of PAIN. Take note of the efficiently Chinese way the event organizers set up a small screen to shield the audience from the ghastly trauma, un-bearable grimaces, and full-body spasms. The scary part is that, weightlifting being such a dangerous sport, the Olympic organizers knew enough to plan ahead of time, and have a crew of volunteers on hand for just such a situation.
Dislocations, breaks, torn cartilage, torn muscles, and yes, even bowel distention are part and parcel of the weightlifting game. Humans were not meant to lift that much weight, but we CAN, and we DO, and these athletes all know intimately the risk inherent in their sport.

Bela Karolyi Tells It Like It Is

Last night's Olympic broadcast feaured the Women's Group competition in Gymnastics.

(Let's not go into the massive CHOKE by the oldest USA team member, the one that the networks and the hype machine have been building up as the "face" of USA Gymnastics, the better to use her for commercials and such bullshit. Too bad for Wall Street! Alicia Suckymone fucking choked! Oh well, it happens to the best of us. Here is footage of a fucking IDIOT asking Alicia Pepperoni, an expertly trained and fit and powerful athlete, to punch him as hard as she can on the jaw. Motherfucker gets dropped.)

Since the games are being held in China, and since everyone is scared shit-less by the 1.6 BILLION Chinese citizens and their totalitarian regime, it seems that no one wants to step up and tell shit like it is. The Chinese women's Gymnastic's team has at least 2 "women" that are obviously under-age. The Olympics sets a limit of 16 years of age. An athlete must turn 16 in the year the Olympics are being held to qualify. While many people have voiced concern, it seems that the International Olympic Committee has shielded their eyes from this and allowed CHEATERS to take the Gold Medal.
Who is there to scream and yell and throw this shit in the face of the Chinese? Who not only has the balls to do so, but the clout and respect and KNOWLEDGE necesary to really make it stick?

BELA KAROLYI does, that's who. This man, a self-admitted hard-ass, could give a flying fuck about political correctness and appeasement, and is voicing his displeasure about this every chance he gets. The man is riotously pissed about this and he has every right to be. The Chinese evidence for their athletes ages is nothing more than a government issued passport. Fuck that shit. I do not trust the Chinese government to wipe their ass properly, much less to not lie or falsify government documents if it is to their advantage to do so. They killed their own people for asking for self-governance in Tien-Amen Square. -FUPPETS- has not forgotten that shit.

International Gymnastics Federation (FIG) officials have accepted the passports of the Chinese women, which indicate all are old enough to compete. Karolyi is originally from Romania, and he says falsifying documents is a common practice in totalitarian regimes such as Romania, Russia and other former Soviet bloc nations.

“They are using half-people,” Karolyi said. “One of the biggest frustrations is, what arrogance. These people think we are stupid."
“We are in the business of gymnastics and we know what a kid of 14 or 15 or 16 looks like. You don’t have to be a gymnastics coach to know what they look like at 16.”