Farewell, Veeeektor

February 7th, 2008 | Posted by PostmanE

It’s a sad day for the Bulls. No, not because they lost to the Blazers last night. No, not because they’re about to take a beatdown from the now-40-percent-slower Warriors. And no, not just because it’s another day in a slog of a season that will probably end in a boring, worthless playoff berth. Those are all valid reasons, but not applicable here.

No, today is sad because Viktor Khryapa has finally been bought out of his contract, freeing him to take his act overseas. That act includes looking like a sixth grader, all the way down to the haircut and the quarter-length socks, as well as having a freakishly long wingspan and no apparent offensive basketball ability.

Naturally, Viktor is quite sad. Aren’t we all?

“Sure I’m frustrated just because I never had a chance to play,” Khryapa said. “Not because of anything else. I liked my teammates and the organization. But I feel I did everything from my side. I proved to them I could play when I got the chance. During the season I practiced hard. But for some reason, I never had a chance to play and nobody could explain why. Basically I lost two years of my career.”

“I lost this time, two very important years,” Khryapa said. “I have to work hard and sign a good deal. Right now, no one knows I’m a good player so I can’t sign a good deal [in the NBA]. I have a family and have to think about the future. So we’ll see about the NBA.

“But for now, I will go my way. And the Bulls will go theirs.”

It’s hard to argue that you wasted two years when you rolled in around $2 million for, you know, doing nothing, but kudos to Viktor for actually trying to advance his career. But anyway: Aww, Veeeeektor. You’re so sweet. Of course, we’ll miss you too, sweetie. Be sure to write!

This would have been so much better

February 7th, 2008 | Posted by PostmanE

Comrade in FanHouse Larry Brown has the alternate Reebok “Perfectville” commercial today, and I’ve got to say: This was way more enjoyable than the actual commercial. Not as enjoyable as if it had ended with Mercury Morris on his knees, wailing in a melded pool of tears and urine, cursing the gods for his lost immortality, swearing off narcissism forever, just before a lightning bolt sets that suburban husk of a home on fire as an angry, vengeful God UNLEASHES DESTRUCTION AND FURY FOR ALL THE WORLD TO –

Whoa. Sorry about that. Just … this commercial will do fine, I suppose.

An ode to Jozy Altidore

February 7th, 2008 | Posted by PostmanE

Thanks to Duke-UNC last night — Duke continues to look impressive, but let’s see a rematch when Ty Lawson is allowed to be on the floor — most people probably didn’t see the U.S.’ spirited but sloppy friendly against Mexico, a 2-2 tie. The game was disorganized and ugly, though, if not for a phantom call against Clint Dempsey on a beautiful go-ahead goal, the U.S. would likely have won. Still, by flipping to the England-Switzerland match immediately after, the US.’ sloppiness became all the more evident. It was not a pretty night.

But there was one overwhelming bright spot: Jozy Altidore. The 18-year-old from the New York Red Bulls wasn’t perfect, but he showed exactly what the U.S. have lacked for so long up front: Size and speed, and the opportunism needed to finish contested chances in the box. (It also showed why Altidore isn’t going to last in the MLS for very long.)

With Altidore, a seemingly improved Freddy Adu, Benny Feilhaber, and the U.S.’ usuals, World Cup qualifiying should be, at the very least, entertaining. I know it’s soccer, but come on: It’s exciting stuff. It really is. And it beats getting yelled at by Dick Vitale for two hours. Win-win.

I hate the White Sox, but not the Hawk

February 7th, 2008 | Posted by PostmanE

It’s not exactly breaking news, but the Chicago White Sox’ lead television broadcaster, Hawk Harrelson, just inked a three-year deal that will keep him around U.S. Cellular Field until 2011. If you don’t know who Harrelson is, he’s that weird old dude (pictured left) with a southern accent, perhaps the only person with a legitimate southern accent in the entire northern half of Illinois, let alone Chicago.

I am a Cubs fan, which means I am supposed to hate everything Harrelson stands for. That southern twang is grating; Harrelson’s silly nicknames for players have to annoy even the players themselves; and his knowledge of the game of baseball is often dunked in the worst kind of old-baseball-man stereotypes. If he didn’t coin the term “Grinderball,” he certainly relishes in its existence.

And yet … I cannot hate this man. I’m not sure what it is. Everything my synapses do on a nightly basis tell me that I crave a more relaxed, bipartisan announcing approach. Dick Vitale’s return confirmed as much last night. (It’s good to have him back and everything, but Jesus, is he loud.) So I’d been trying to figure out just why I don’t hate Harrelson, and in the meantime CS Weekly’s Chris Sprow did it for me:

In this age of broadcasters who want to be perceived as unbiased and fair, and with the notion of abject political correctness seeping into all realms, there’s something almost heartening about a true homer like the Hawk. As though some dust from the golden age of the game still is part of current makeup, even if some find it discoloring.I also think it’ll be worth skipping the press box on occasion just to hear Hawk wax about Nick Swisher. How can this not become a classic love affair?

“I looove the Swish.”

Cringe-worthy and still enjoyable. It’s a potent blend.

Harrelson is all that, and he’s still fun. Maybe he’s like your dad. I know my dad says some really ridiculous, borderline-embarrassing things, but his natural affability makes him likable all the same. My friends love my dad, or at least they used to. Harrelson is White Sox fans’ father, if their father had a weird southern twang. It’s hard to hate anyone’s father, isn’t it?

Pot and Kettle Update Hour: So, yeah, Jay Mariotti is apparently able to hate people’s fathers. Vehemently so. Further proof that Mariotti hates everything, even you, reading this right now. Yes, you. Jay Mariotti hates you. And now you know.