September 8, 2001

Pitchers powered by centrifugal force, twenty-game losers, and the grand Montreal tradition of chicken hanging. Yes, Jayson Stark is in rare form with this Week in Review.

Like most Padres fans, I harbor an intense dislike for The Dick, Hideki Irabu. Thus I regard this story about the Fat Toad drinking himself into a stupor before a rehab start immensely entertaining!

This one special for Frank... Rick Reilly consistently has insightful things to say about the world of sports, but he's in rare form with this column about baseball's reigning misanthrope, Barry Bonds.

Finally, some mainstream media respect for Rickey. Thank you, Kurk.

Courtesy of the fine folks over at C|Net, here's a useful collection of links and suggestions to help you enhance and upgrade Netscape v4.x. You'll find some of these tips and add-ons especially handy if you have no desire to "upgrade" to Netscape v6.x or to experiment with the not-ready-for-prime-time Mozilla open source clone.

In general, I don't pay too much attention to the baseball happenings in Boston... SportsCenter and Baseball Tonight highlights are about it. And since the Red Sox just fired manager Jimy Williams, their limited entertainment value to me has dwindled. That is, until Bill Simmons penned this hilarious column about Mr. Weebles. Remember, "you can't mess up a pot of tomato sauce, after you've already poured gasoline into it."

If you haven't been paying any attention to it yet, let me recommend the Little League World Series as being worthy of some of your sports viewing time. ESPN2 is providing fairly extensive coverage, and the kids are playing some fine, entertaining baseball.

The Little Ball of Hate that is Ray Ferraro is making noises like the upcoming NHL season will be his last. And if that proves to be true, boys and girls, it will be a sad day indeed for professional ice hockey.

In ice hockey circles, it has been a strange summer. Mostly, the warm months have been a tale of two general managers, Bob Clarke and Glen Sather...

Clarkie's had himself a pretty decent summer so far. But as for Glen, poor Slats has been living through a nightmare worthy of a Tim Burton film.

First off, Sather failed to sign Jaromir Jagr. I don't regard that as being such a huge tragedy as most people apparently do, but I was never very high on the Poodle in the first place. And if you think I'm wrong, watch the Caps skate to maybe third place, and a second-round playoff exit this season... Jagr can no more lead a team than I can perform brain surgery.

So next off, Slats goes and trades for Eric Lindros, the biggest underachieving pussy in professional sports. Not a good day.

And finally, it's now becoming clear that he intends to sign Brett Hull, too. Toe Blake might have been able to coach the monstrosity that Slats is busy assembling, but it's a sure bet that Ron Low can't. And alas, Toe died back in 1995, so he's likely not going to be available.

Meanwhile, the much-maligned Bobby Clarke just unloaded the biggest pain-in-the-ass in all of sports -- and his parents -- to his team's most hated rival, and improved the Flyers in the process. Game, set, match, Clarkie. Maybe this will shut-up the idiots and talk show hosts, at least for a few minutes.

ESPN's Rob Parent provides even more on this strange summer and stranger dealings. And if that's not enough for you, Adrian Wojnarowski offers the single finest column I have ever read about the worst parents in sports.

Apparently the Hindenberg wasn't enough for the crowd over at Zeppelin Luftschifftechnik GmbH. Now we have Zeppelin NT. No, I am not joking... somewhere in the world, likely even as I type, there is a Blue Blimp of Death circling to crash land.

Why, Slats, why? Why did you do this?

E. J. Hradek says you're desperate. Rob Parent suggests that maybe you really are "just toppling off your rocking throne." Whatever the reason, there's nothing sufficient to justify this insanity.

An ice hockey game with 72,000 fans in attendance? Outdoors? In 50F weather? Maybe even in the rain?! So says SBN, anyway. I live for ice hockey, but this stunt is just downright asinine.

If there has ever been a more pointless death, I am at a loss to recall. But it saddens me nonetheless, because by all accounts, Korey Stringer was a pretty decent man. My thoughts and prayers are with his family, friends, and teammates.

Yes, we do like our fireworks here in San Diego. Boom!

I would find this article quite funny, except for two key points: Mark Kreidler is an arrogant prick, and Ichiro is right.

They can't count to three without using a mechanical toter, yet they somehow consider themselves to be the guardians of the game's integrity. Shake yourself, blue. Please excuse me now, while I go vomit.

Stanford-Cal was one thing, but this fiasco adds an entire new meaning to "battle of the bands."

When it happened, I was watching on the TV at work. Every jaw in the room dropped. Even the non-fans were amazed by the magic of this moment frozen in time.

Our All-Star coverage wouldn't be complete without a few words from Jim Caple on Cal (and that idiot Bud Selig), and some thoughts from Dave van Dyck about memories.

And, of course, Tommy's tumble will be on every highlight reel from now until the end of time (and if you see the clip on SportsCenter, keep an eye out for Popeye's reaction; it's a classic).

As well they should, Major League Baseball is paying more than a small amount of attention to Tony Gwynn, including this collection, aptly titled Going, Going Gwynn.

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