Posts Tagged ‘Football’

Orange County Police Hold Press Conference to Announce That They Haven’t Arrested Titus Young in Over 168 Hours

Posted: May 22, 2013 in Sports
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After former NFL wide receiver Titus Young was arrested for the third time in two days, on May 12th 2013, local law enforcement in Orange County were put on high alert.  Following a brief period of time in which he wasn’t arrested, they held a news conference to try to quell any public outrage.

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“We are pleased to announce that, as a department, we have not arrested Titus Young in nearly 170 hours.”  The Sheriff’s office announced in a press conference on Tuesday afternoon in a statement was met with wild applause by Titus Young’s mother and his agent who had, presumably, snuck into the back of the conference.

“We called you all here today, because we truly believe that this period of un-arrest merits a congratulatory period at our offices.  Each of our officers who haven’t had to arrest Titus Young have been formally reprimanded for their oversight in this matter and we know that, while this is truly a momentous moment for our department, he’s probably out somewhere doing something illegal.  As such, we are going to be waiting an additional 48-72 hours before disbanding our newly formed ‘Titus Task Force’ and before no longer requiring our officers to run two warmup laps and perform group stretches on the departmental track before starting their shifts.”

“Frankly,” the Sheriff’s office continued, “we thought Titus might be going for the record.”

“The Record” that they were referring to was once held by local miscreant, and noted convict, Tim ‘Skeezy’ Skagnetti, who was once arrested four times in two days.

While the Sheriff”s office was initially unclear on the charges that might be awaiting Young, they shed some light on that as well, during their brief time in front of the media.

“What we’re looking at charging Mr. Young with, now, would be  10-12 years for aggravated idiocy; a charge that was created by our legal team on the spot, since there was literally no precedent for such moronic behavior.”

When pressed for further details about what it may have looked like when Young attempted to steal his car back from the police impound lot the spokesperson merely stood off to one side and rolled this mysterious footage.

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Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore Art Thou Romeo? Doing an Interview with Burnpoetry, That’s Where. . .

Posted: May 21, 2013 in Sports
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Former Chiefs coach and noted romantic, Romeo Crennel, has accepted the head coaching position for the Mantua Manglers of the OOIFL (Other, Other, Indoor Football League).  Crennel, recently exiled to Mantua after running afoul of the Prince of Kansas City didn’t take long before he was taking a new job.  He was kind enough to sit down with me for a recent interview in which we cleared the air, talked a little about his current gig, and touched on his ill-fated time as the star cross’d coach of the Chiefs.

Chris Hatch: Thanks for joining me, Romeo.  Tough break, getting the Golden Axe in Kansas City.  How’re you holding up?

Romeo: Ay, me.  Sad hours seem long.

CH:  What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?

Romeo:  Not having that, which, having, makes them short?

CH:  In a job?

Romeo:  Out.

CH:  A job?

Romeo: Of a job.  In a place with the best barbecue ribs in the country.

CH:  Damn it, now you’re making me sad.  Let’s keep it together here, Romeo.  What about life here in Mantua?  It doesn’t seem so bad.  I mean, they’ve got a Sizzler, a Carl’s Junior, a 2-Screen Movie theatre.  You’ll forget about KC soon enough, right?

Romeo:  O, teach me how I should forget to think?

CH:  Let’s talk about some of the positives.  The Manglers are stacked.  They’re coming off an 8-2 season last year and they were in the OOIFL’s championship game.  And what about your Quarterback?  Tim Dickinson was the MVP last year.  What can you say about his performance thus far?

Romeo:  O, he doth teach the torches to burn bright!  It seems he hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear.

CH:  Umm. . .that’s high praise.  I think.  See things don’t sound so bad here.  Shoot me straight, though, Romeo.  Some people are saying that you’re not cut out for a head coaching gig in the NFL.  They see that you failed in KC.  And you also had a pretty rough stint in Cleveland–

Romeo:  They jest at scars that never felt a wound.

CH:  But, you know. . .Cleveland’s always in a pretty rough spot.  What if they wanted you back in some capacity?

Romeo:  Tempt not a desperate man.

CH:  Yeah, you’re right.  That probably wasn’t cool of me.  Listen, though, man.  I’ve brought a peace offering.  I spoke with our mutual friend Bill Belichik and he asked me to drop off a copy of his playbook from the 2000 season when you guys were working together in New England.  He thought you could use the help.

Romeo:  If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

CH:  You’re not going to kiss that playbook are y—and you just did.  I guess this is what rock bottom looks like.

Romeo: No.  Here’s rock bottom.  I’ll give you 10 bucks for a ride to Golden Corral. . .

CH: My poverty, but not my will, consent.

Romeo

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Breakfast All Day? 3 Sports What-ifs That Mirror McDonalds’ Potentially Dope Decision

Posted: May 20, 2013 in Sports
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At the end of April, a monumental moment in human history occurred.  It was something important, something game-changing, and something that will have far-reaching ramifications on life for all citizens in these United States of America.  Oh, and a basketball player came out of the closet, too.

What I’m referring to, and if you are a devourer of pop culture and useless internet memes run rampant as I am you probably have already heard, is that McDonald’s has announced that there is the potential for the McGriddle to get served all McDamnDay.

That’s right, fellow fatties, McD’s has announced that they’re considering serving their breakfast throughout the course of the entire day.  That chilled out, laid back cacophany of, “Sweet, bro”s you just heard was the sound of 10 million stoners climbing out from the basements, strapping on a hemp jacket and skate-boarding their way towards the fast food mecca right now just in case they change their minds and you can score some hotcakes at 3:30 PM.

This reversal of the age-old McDonald’s logic that stipulated that breakfast was only to be available during the morning hours got me to wondering, what would the sporting equivalent of this time-oriented reversal of philosophy be?  Let’s sit down, have an imaginary (*Author’s note: but delicious) mid-afternoon Egg McMuffin and ask three questions that are weird, intriguing, and will absolutely, positively never happen.

What if the NBA was played in the morning?

Can you imagine the horror of watching a hung-over Boogie Cousins take on an exhausted-from-clubbing-with-Jay-Z Carmelo Anthony at 8:15 AM?  I’m not sure if that would be awful.  Or awesome.  Or awesomely awful?  One thing is for sure, it would revolutionize the way the game was played.  Vendors would be forced to serve waffles instead of hot dogs and even the “City That Never Sleeps” would probably end up passed out courtside from exhaustion.

The only people who should play basketball before noon are kids wearing generic league t-shirts and the old, hairy-backed dudes in rec-specs and cotton shorts playing at the local YWCA.

The promotional tie-ins with Red Bull replacing the Gatorade in the teams’ coolers wouldn’t be worth the fact that the performance enhancing drugs would suddenly just be replaced with piles of morning blow to start off the day.  Just know that the first time ESPN had a 1080p closeup of Andrew Bynum upchucking at center court after a night spent galavanting at the Playboy Mansion and the NBA would probably consider moving games right back to the evening like they should.

What if baseball was played in the winter?

Baseball has long been a spring/summer/early fall sport.  It’s so long that the only months it doesn’t play in are the winter ones.  But what if that changed?  What if, instead of starting in April like they have for decade upon decade, Major League Baseball started in January?

It’s already awesome when we’re treated to either early-season or October playoff snow-games, but how great would it be to see them all the time?  How awesome would it be to watch baseball players sliding in the snow like kindergartners in snow pants.  No need to worry about pitchers illegally adding moisture to the ball when their hands are covered in flakes.  Plus?  Snowball fights.  Bench clearing brawls mixed with slush balls, mixed with potential skiing hazards?  Listening to Joe Buck try to figure out whether there’s a player running the bases or just doing Moguls?  Why am I asking so many questions?  Your move Bud Selig.

What if they played football at midnight?

Let me set the stage.  It’s September 7th, 2013.  It’s 11:55 PM in Lincoln, Nebraska.  The heat from the Midwest dog days is only now starting to unclench it’s white-knuckled fist.  The lights are on at Memorial Stadium.  89,000 people have packed the stands.  They’ve been drinking.  All day.  The football season is finally here and they are about to take part in the inaugural Midnight Mayhem Football Game of the Week on HBO.  There’s something different about the Midnight game the fans are about to watch.  Tougher, more exciting.  Badass.  It’s an electric, outdoor, party that avoids the heat of the day, and causes a media sensation.

Once a week, have HBO pick a college game, throw their gigantic checkbook behind the production, and have them televise a rabble-rousing, Adult-version of the game of college football.  Since it’s HBO, all rules would be off.  They could make it a rebellious, fascinating, take on the game.  Have Kevin Hart do the color commentary, have Norm McDonald as the sideline reporter.  Who wouldn’t love it?  (*Author’s note: besides the coaches)  The students?  They’d liquor up all day and it would immediately turn into the best party of the year; a hybrid combo of Midnight Madness and tailgate Saturdays   The players? They get to sleep in, hang out during the hot part of the day, and break new ground on something that felt rebellious and untouchably cool.  The athletic department could cash in on the massive amount of cash that could be behind grabbing this wild opportunity.

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An Open Letter to Tim Tebow (Or: Why You Should Come Play for the Omaha Beef)

Posted: May 2, 2013 in Sports
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Dear Tim,

What up, Mr. Tebow?  Had a bit of a rough week, huh?  Listen, I know you’re probably (*Author’s note: hopefully) busy practicing footwork and mechanics and not-throwing interceptions and stuff, but I was hoping you could give me a minute of your time.

I know that you’ve probably got people pulling your square jawline in a million different directions right now, but I think this is something that you need to hear.

You should take the job offer out of Omaha.

Let’s be honest here, my very un-laid friend.  I don’t know that you’re going to get a better offer.  Sure, you might think that trying to change positions and make a roster in the NFL as an “H-back” or a tight end might be a better route.  Sure, you might believe that your destiny is still to play QB in the NFL and that – if you could just find the right situation or just get that looping, slow-mo windup to pick up the pace – you just need one tryout to impress someone.  Hell, (*Author’s note: sorry, Tim.  I swear.  A lot.  Forgive me, I know not what I do.) maybe you even think that heading up to Canada to play for the Montreal Alouettes, the team that apparently owns the rights to you if you go that route.

But I’m here to tell you, Timothy Richard, that none of these will pay off as much as if you come to play for the Omaha Beef.  I’ll get to that in a moment, here, but first, let’s debunk the myth that anywhere other than the friendly confines of the Big O would be the place for you.

Let’s say you want to stick it out in the NFL.  Let’s say you sit down with your disciples, your PR firm, and your parents and all of you say, “You know what?  Tony Gonzalez is, like, 50 and he still dominates at the tight end spot.  Jason Witten had a leaky, potentially explosive spleen and he still played the position at a high level.  How hard can it be?”  Then you decide, to heck with it.  I’m going for it.

Then reality sets in.

The draft just happened.  Free agents have been plucked.  There are guys who make your athleticism and size seem a little too slow and a little too small who are clamoring to play tight end in the league.  You’ll pull up to training camp with a flatbed truck-full of media coverage and scrutiny and suddenly each pass you drop will be a lead story on ESPN and each time you get beat by a kamikazing defensive end to the QB a pack of rabid atheists will GIF the living hell out of it and distribute it gleefully to every website on the planet with the click of a mouse.  You’ll end up getting canned in the pre-season after not getting a fair shake because of your name.

Is that what you want, Mr. Tebow?

Let’s say you decide to hold firm.  You say, “You know what?  I’m a quarterback.  That’s what I do.  I’m taking the high road here and I’ll just make sure that I work my way back to the game.”  You hit the quarterback guru-ing circuit so hard that you’ll have done more quarterback drilling than the ladies of Texas A&M did this past season with Johnny Football.  All that joy and fun and love of the game?  That’ll get rolled up in a spreadsheet and smoked like all those blunts your teammates at Florida used to smoke. (*Author’s note: sorry, Tim.  I joke about drugs.  A lot.)  You’ll work on your mechanics and throw until your arms are dead.  And by the time you’re done?  It’ll be draft season again.  And that fresh crop of cheap, hungry, young quarterbacks will come rolling into the league and you’ll be right back where you started.  Throwing balls to D-2 receivers and hoping a scout shows up.

Is that the future you’ve envisioned, Timmy?

Finally, you might be saying to yourself.  “Hey, there’s always Canada, right?”  Which is the football equivalent of a former Miss America saying, “Hey, there’s always stripping, right?”  (*Author’s note: I’ll let someone else explain what that is.)

Trust me.  Canada isn’t where you want to be right now.  Sure they have free healthcare and team names that sound like a creature from the Harry Potter books (see: Hamilton Tiger-Cats) but if you thought that Denver was cold?  Oh, man.  And you’d be stuck playing for a team called the Montreal Alouettes.  In English that team translates to French Sissies.  Picture this: it’s gameday.  You roll off your ice-sculpted bed, head down to your igloo’s garage and hop onto your dogsled.  You try to calculate how many F-ing kilometers an hour your dogs are pulling you, but the metric system just makes your head hurt, so you mush those bad boys along at warp speed.  You get to the game and people keep shouting French swear words down at you, only you’re not sure if they’re being offensive or asking for your autograph.  Your team loses by 40 points, you get frostbite on 9 of your 10 toes and throw 3 interceptions.  The end.

Sound like a plan, Timothy R. Tebow?

Which leaves us with the logical, intelligent, career-renaissance-ing move.  The final piece to your DaVinci Coded riddle (*Author’s note: I don’t think you’d like that one much, though, so no need to watch it.) that you can suddenly realize in a flash of glory.

The Omaha Beef.

Even their name beckons you to join.  You’re beefy.  You like beef.  You may have even watched the cruddy late-night movies of that same name on BET.  Okay, probably not.

They’re offering your $75 bucks a game, a town full of football maniacs, and most importantly: a roster spot.  As a quarterback.  Sure, you might be a backup on the field but you would be the biggest thing to land in Nebraska since. . .ever?

We have churches.  And a zoo for all the media members who insist on tailing you around like they’re private eyes watching an unfaithful spouse.  And that place directly to the East of Omaha, called Council Bluffs?  Yeah, they could really use your spiritual help, my friend.  If you’re good at football in Nebraska you’re good at everything in Nebraska.  For life.  Unless you end up getting life.  (*Author’s note: See: Thunder Collins.)

We have a pretty decent airport terminal, but if you come to our team and air it out, we’ll have a Virgin Airways all our own.

Think about it.  This is the place where we embraced Jeremiah Masoli and even Maurice Freaking-Clarett on our semi-pro team, the Nighthawks.  Think what you could do here?

Tim, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, but why not stick down a gigantic, tender, delicious hunk of Omaha Beef?

Sincerely,

Chris

6 Ways to Improve the NFL Draft

Posted: April 25, 2013 in Sports
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The NFL keeps trying to make the NFL draft something of a primetime ratings bonanza.  They’ve moved the draft to Thursday night when it’s competition is sparse and people aren’t out doing weekend-ish stuff.  They hype it for weeks on end, singlehandedly keeping Mel Kiper’s titanic hair product budget afloat year round, and they attempt to squeeze out every ounce of media coverage that they can during a month when the NFL really doesn’t deserve to have much media coverage.

Sure, I’ll probably tune in for a bit.  The NFL draft is interesting, if not all that exciting.  It’s important, if sometimes a little blown out of proportion.  It’s most definitely a part of the sporting landscape that I find myself so deeply entranced by, so I’ll be there, probably hate-tweeting as much as 140 characters will allow.

But what could the NFL do to make this year’s draft the media-fire storm that they so desperately want it to be?  How could they take a glitzy, glossy, pre-packaged event and truly transform it into something that no one will ever forget?  How could it possibly live up to the nearly insufferable hype that has been building for the last two months?  I’m glad you asked.

Bring out the Busts

I’m not talking about the Hall of Fame busts in Canton.  And I’m not talking about Sam Hurd’s piles of cocaine and subsequent piles of jail time, either.  I’m talking about something that we all love more than a successful NFL draftee.  I’m talking about Lawrence Phillips.  I’m talking about Tony Mandarich.  I’m talking about all the guys who get a little too much run in the lead-up to the draft and then promptly lay a fat deuce once they hit the league.  We all love it.  There’s literally 2,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 stories about it out right now on Google.  Which is exactly 2,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 more than there were last year.  Scientists estimate that the universe is still expanding from the Big Bang.  Cynics are thankful because by next year, we’ll need the extra room for all the “Greatest Busts” stories.

So why not bring them back?  Why not ratchet up the tension in the room by having guys who could be busts get announced by guys who were busts?  Can you imagine the tension on the stage when Jamarcus Russell came out to announce Ryan Nassib?  Even better, how great would it be for Roger Goddell to come out, announce, “And here to present the next draft choice, via Skype. . .Lawrence Phillips!”  Then they’d have a gigantic big screen drop down and we’d see this:

Incoming call, Rog.

Make Roger Goodell wear matching suits with high draft picks

Whenever the high first rounders are getting drafted they always come out on stage, give a too-friendly, junk-to-junk hug to the Commissioner and then pose for photos like Goodell’s their long-last sibling.  So why not make these photo ops a little more memorable?  Why not let Goodell relate to the people who claim he’s lost touch with the game and the players in a fresh way.  Let him floss the same gear that the players are flossing.  The key here would be to not only make him wear the same style, color, and cut, but to wear the same size.  Luke Joeckel’s rocking a XXXL 54” Long with pinstripes?  So is Goodell.  Geno Smith has decided to get more iced out than an Eskimo at a fishing hole?  Drop a little of that $22 Million dollar bonus you “earned” last season on some fresh diamonds.

Matched up like TotesBFFS

Make the draft operate as a kind of impromptu skills challenge

We tune in in the hopes of getting some compelling TV.  Here’s a quick 5-Step process to really kick this year’s draft up a notch.

1.  Gather together some projected mid-late round draft picks.  Have them show up to New York City, dressed to the nines in gator shoes and pricey suits and sit at a table near the green room where all the elite level picks will be.

2.  Midway through the draft, right around the 17th pick (*Author’s note: also known as the point when Chris Berman’s voice is starting to wash down viewers’ ear cavities like sulfuric acid) there will be a lull.  3 offensive lineman in a row will have been chosen and people will be thinking of changing the station.  That’s when Goodell steps to the podium with a starter’s pistol, announces that the first potential draftee from the chosen pool to reach a designated finish line, somewhere in Radio City Music Hall, will get a 3-year guaranteed deal worth $5 million a year for the New England Patriots.

3.  Have Tom Brady appear near said finish line holding a bag of money and a free pair of his Men’s Ugg boots for the winner.

4.  Fire the pistol.

5.  Watch.

Provide free alcohol in the Green room for the waiting draftees

It would provide a great time for product placement.  Why, there’s Alabama corner Dee Milliner taking another shot of. . .Ketel One Vodka.  With your first selection, make sure you always choose Ketel One.  But don’t forget to draft a designated driver.  How great would it have been to watch Brady Quinn housing brews as he slipped down draftboards in 2006?

Who wouldn’t enjoy seeing a nervous 22-year-old have a few too many and then slur his way through an interview with an uptight talking head.  Joe Namath, anyone?

Have Brett Favre and Jenn Sterger work as a reporting team from the Green Room

Or, better yet, just have Jenn and Brett communicate through a series of ESPN-displayed text messages.

Have the two players who scored the lowest on the Wonderlic test and pit them head to head in an academic-debate style battle of wits

Have each player attempt to answer on-the-fly questions about U.S. Foreign policy, astronomy, and philosophy.  As T.O. would say, “Gectcha’ popcorn ready.”

FIN

Burnpoetry’s Valentine’s Day Virtual Drop-Bag

Posted: February 15, 2013 in Sports
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Every year when I was a kid we would all spend time decorating up our little paper bags, glue-gunning hearts and glitter and any number of toxic items all over our Valentine’s Day Drop-Bag.  We would put them out on our desks and everyone would take a turn dropping off their Valentine and/or treats and we’d get to look at them at the end of the day. This year, to celebrate V-Day in a digital age, I put out a Valentine’s Day Digital Drop-Bag with the hopes that I’d get some goodies.

You won’t believe who left me Valentine’s Day cards.  The first picture is the front of the card and the second is the inside.  Check it out:

Bo Pelini stopped by and left a card:

Bo's V-DayBo Deux

LeBron James took time out from annihilating the league to stop by as well:

LBJLBJVday

So did his teammate and BFF, Dwyane Wade:

Still can't figure out where to put the "Y"

Ndamukong Suh even left me a card:

SuhSlide11

Wait, LeBron left two?  And this one was also just signed “Latrell?”:

Slide5 Slide6

Tony Romo sent us a card:

Slide12 Slide13

Wow, Lawrence Phillips took time out from his un-busy schedule to send us some love?  You shouldn’t have, LP:

Slide20 Slide21

Manti Te’o broke his self-imposed social networking gag order just for us:

Slide14 Slide15

Lance Armstrong?  I bet his Valentine’s Day was a ball:

Slide16 Slide17

Ray Lewis’ card killed it:

Slide22 Slide23

Brett Favre even hooked it up:

Slide18Slide19

And, OMG, look who left me a card!?!?!?:

Slide7 Slide8

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Nebraska Football Recruiting Strategies for a New Era

Posted: February 13, 2013 in Sports
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On August 1st  the NCAA is going to loosen up the reins.  They’re going to stop poring over phone records like a divorce-court attorney trying to prove an illicit affair.  They’re going to stop restricting texts and tweets, and Facebook messaging.  They’re going to, kind of, throw their money-stained hands into the air and just say, “We give up.”

On August 1st  the NCAA is going to deregulate the amount of calls/texts a coach can make to an prospective football recruit.  Even though there are still some formalities to be dealt with (*Author’s note: red tape at the NCAA?  No way, right?!?!) and some finalities to be finalized, it looks like this next season is going to be open season on football recruiting.

Some coaches have come out as vocal proponents of this new ideology and others, like Nebraska head coach, Bo Pelini, have been vocally opposed.  But there’s little they can do now, one way or another.  The train’s a’coming.  And there’s no Denzel of Captain Kirk 2.0 (*Author’s note: Chris Pine) to pull a dramatic, train-from-behind victory over momentum, either.  We can either get on or get obliterated like so many movie-cars that inexplicably run out of gas right on the middle of the tracks.

So what can Bo Pelini and Co. do to keep up with Ohio State, Michigan, and the Big Bad SEC in the hunt for recruits?  More specifically, how can Bo and his staff utilize the new anti-restrictions to land some gigantic recruits next year?  I’ve come up with a few things to get us atop those coveted recruiting rankings, as well as a list of pros and cons.

1.  Hire a crack-team of 13-year-old girls to do your texting. 

Pros:  You know they’ll be cheap.  Hell, they’ll work for caramel apple suckers, Twilight books, and friendship bracelets matching the ones worn by Rex Burkhead during his attempted NFL career.  You know they’ll be efficient.  Tweenage girls are the undisputed, heavyweight champions of texting.  They can crank out characters faster than Matt Groening and his staff while dropping acid and playing Pictionary.  If you want to carpet-bomb-text recruits to make sure they don’t forget about your presence?  Let these young girls turn their thumbs into a blitzkrieg of buzzing.  To motivate them, just tell them that they’re, like, so much better at recruiting than Nick Saban.  Like, so much.

Cons: 8 P.M. curfews.  Child labor laws.  Tendonitis/carpal tunnel/very, very necessary slumber parties that cannot be missed even in the heat of a recruiting battle.  Bo Pelini seems like he’d be great at dealing with confused hormonal meltdowns at the office, right?  Right?!?!  A two-week, office-wide pout-marathon (*Author’s note: replete with Kati Perry break-up songs and lots of diary entries) could occur if they found out someone decommitted and went to another school.  You might send something to a recruit that looked like this:

“Sup Jimmy. Been wating 4 u 2 call. U totes said u liked us.  I Obvi LYLAB but my bff4Lyfe Bo sayz u need 2 cmmit now. Not l8r. HMU wen u know. TTYL.”

2.  Hire Ronaiah Tuiasosopo as your director of online recruiting.

Pros:  Ronaiah clearly is amoral, maybe insane, and he’s got tons of experience in picking up big-time football players via the internet.  Once his Dr. Phil money, and the inevitable book deal that wills score him a mound of cash, dies up what else is he going to do?  Hang out with Nev Schulman all day?  Look, Ronaiah didn’t catfish Manti Te’o. . .he Moby Dicked him.  And if he could reel in that guy using a disturbingly pitch-perfect falsetto, a few stolen photos, and a steaming pile of Facebook pokes?  What could he do with the full weight of a multi-million dollar athletic department behind him?  Sure the players could never actually know who was recruiting them or they would for sure freak out.  But, somehow, I don’t think Ronaiah would have an issue with going by a pseudonym.

Cons:  The moment he forgot and accidentally introduced himself as “Lennay Keku—uhm. . .I mean, Bill Smith, director of online recruiting.”  You’d lose a recruit.  It would be almost 1/657as dirty as how Urban Meyer would probably be doing things from Ohio State.  That, in all honesty, might be a little too similar when you really crunch the numbers. Also, there’s a very real chance your program could be featured in a Dr. Phil redemption piece that would irreparably harm your program.

3. Continuing to utilize the Osborne Identity, the Osborne Supremacy, and initiate the Osborne Ultimatum.

Pros:  Allow me to explain.  The Osborne Identity is a secret, government funded initiative that very few outside of the Nebraska football program actually know about.  Basically, and I’ll try to keep this as need-to-know as I can, it all hinges on the fact that Tom Osborne was created in a government lab by genetically altering the human chromosomes in his DNA to make a better coaching machine.  Once implemented Coach Osborne was sent out in his test run to infiltrate a football program and lead them to glory.  Along the way he invented the internet, defeated communism single-handedly and won 3 national championship games.  The Osborne Identity is still in effect, but will began the second phase of the operation during the past few years.

The Osborne Supremacy was the second phase of this super-black ops mission.  While it is still technically ongoing it involved overthrowing a corrupt regime of Athletic Department dictators and following it up with a successful stint shepherding the entire state of Nebraska towards greater socio-economic vitality.  Oh, and also getting less shitty at football, too.  After tiring of his undercover work during his time out of the athletic program (*Author’s note: experts are unsure whether Facebook and Twitter were both his ideas, or whether it was just Facebook that he created during his time working for NASA’s Mars Expeditions during this time) he resumed his role at the helm of Nebraska where he secretly plotted the overthrow of Darth Dodds and his insipid creation, Mack Brown.

Phase three of the operation was called the Osborne Ultimatum.  It will be initiated during this current phase as a part of recruiting.  Bo Pelini will initiate this sequence by mentioning “execution” in an interview a secretly-coded 277 times.  On the 277th time, Osborne will rise from his slumber in the bowels of Memorial Stadium ready to pull in top notch players once more.  Utilizing the knowledge that he gained by creating cell phones with his bare hands, while deposing a dictator in the Middle East, he will explode a revolutionary new tactic upon our consciousness in a move that will revolutionize the communications industry.

Cons:  We might get tired of winning too much?  But probably nothing.  There are no cons to this plan.

4.  Put together a team of Ex-Husker Stars and let them do the bulk of the texting/tweeting/calling.

Pros:  Bo seems to not want to be on his phone constantly.  That’s fine.  But he should get together a squad of former Husker greats and let appoint them to some kind of made up position that allows them to loosely be affiliated with the program. 

Cons: The Cons.  Don’t let Lawrence Phillips or Thunder Collins call anyone.  Something tells me that recruits won’t accept a collect call from “Inmate #276643.”

FIN

Bo Pelini’s Forehead Ties the Knot

Posted: February 8, 2013 in Burnvisuals, Sports
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On Wednesday, February 6th, 2013 Coach Bo Pelini held a press conference to discuss the Nebraska Cornhuskers’ newest football recruiting class.  It was National Signing Day.  A day when sports nerds, multi-million dollar football programs, message board hacks, and 18-year-olds collide and are shaken-not-stirred into a blended up cocktail of high expectations and suspended realities.  Normally it’s a day for unfettered speculation and anxiety-fueled prognostication.  We try to see into the future using not a crystal ball, but a crystal football trophy as our guide.  Sometimes it works, plenty of times it doesn’t. 

On Wednesday, February 6th, 2013 Coach Bo Pelini held a press conference to discuss the Nebraska Cornhuskers’ newest football recruiting class.  But something else stole the show.  It wasn’t a 4-star recruit with stunning measurable.  It wasn’t a Ju-Co prospect who had been tapped by talk-radio shows and breathless scouting analysts as a guy who could make an “immediate impact.”  In fact, it wasn’t a player at all.  It was Bo Pelini’s forehead.

There, affixed to his $2.875 million dollar head was a lump.  A seriously noticeable, sizeable knot had appeared in the upper left side of his forehead.  Being that this is Nebraska and being that there is little else for us to do this time of year, speculation ran rampant.  But what really happened to Bo Pelini’s forehead?  He claimed that he ran into a pole, but haven’t we seen enough Bo Pelini pressers to know that “truth” and “media truth” are often times tossed out completely in favor of coachspeak?  I was less interested in the recruiting class than the fact that Bo showed up looking like he’d just cheated on Elin Nordegren and tried to escape her 3-wood in an Escalade. 

Here are just a few of my theories on what really happened to Bo Pelini’s forehead.

-  He carpooled in to work with Ndamukong Suh.

image

Suh only got a D+ in Driver's Ed.

- He can’t deny his ancient, primal instincts. It’s science. Just check the fossil record:

image

Shoot her!! Shoot her!!

- He has been trying his hand at the other football:

image

- This is how he spends most of his weekends during the offseason:

image

Is Bo, in fact, a pikey?

FIN

Super Bowl Super Recap: The Sun Sets on Kaepernicus and Ray Lewis Kills It

Posted: February 4, 2013 in Sports
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Deer Ray Lewis,

Man, you killed it out there tonight.  I mean, you really murdered it.  And got away with it.

Sincerely,

Chris

But enough about my personal thoughts on Ray-Ray’s performance-enhanced performance last night.  How about that Super Bowl 47, huh?!?!  What a game it was.  There were more ups and downs than on a Biggest Loser contestant’s heart rate monitor.  There was passion and drama.  There was Dallas levels of sibling rivalry.  There was Beyonce and. . .those other girls. . .and there was a surging, frenetic comeback attempt that came up just short.

In the end?  The Baltimore Ravens emerged victorious.  They proved to be too multi-faceted for the 49ers.  ”The Moment” seemed just a little too big, the mistakes were just a little too costly, and the Ravens had just enough gas left in the tank to hold off the 49ers’ attempt to snatch away a last-minute victory.

So what did I take away from the game?  What were some things I noticed and/or wanted to comment on?

Kaepernican Revolution Ends. . .For Now

Colin Kaepernick was the “it” guy of the playoffs this year.  He performed so phenomenally well in the 49ers’ victory over Green Bay and kept his composure so well in a gigantic comeback effort against the Atlanta Falcons that his age and amount of starts just didn’t feel as significant as maybe it should have.  When the time came for him to perform on the grandest of stages it wasn’t that he did bad by any stretch, accounting for 364 yards and two TDs, but he was quite Kaepernician enough in the early stages to keep the 49ers in the game.

The 49ers outscored Baltimore 25-13 in the second half, but the damage was done.  The 21-6 halftime lead, coupled with two turnovers,  was too much to overcome.  Baltimore hung tough, ground it out, and emerged with a 3 point win.  It was Kaepernick’s 11th NFL start.  Ever.

It was the first time the San Francisco 49ers had lost a Super Bowl.  I get the feeling that, with Kaepernick it won’t be the last time the 49ers are in the Super Bowl.  Long live the revolution!

Joseph Vincent “Elite Dragon” Flacco

Best fake-nickname ever?

Best fake-nickname ever?

That’s all.  I’ll never refer to him by another name now that he’s won a Super Bowl.  The Elite Dragon earned it.  I don’t care of his nickname sounds like a terrible Chuck Norris movie from 1984, that he just beat my favorite team and barely looked like he enjoyed himself, and I don’t care that this nickname is entirely fabricated by someone who was screwing with his Wikipedia page.  I’m going with it.  Forever.

Halftime Show

Beyoncé came out and owned the stage.  She strutted and spun, popped it and dropped it.  While I’m not an enormous Beyoncé fan, it was nice to see the Super Bowl decide to bring in someone under the age of 90 for the performance.  You think you’re capturing the country’s attention, the Super Bowl?  I’ve come up with a quick math equation to demonstrate what happened in the last few years at your shows:

That old lady could really sing, though.

That old lady could really sing, though.

That’s a mathematically proven fact.  One of these is a vibrant, culturally relevant performer who connects with the youth of America.  The other looks like an old, desperate woman, clinging to her youth with white-knuckled fervor.  (*Author’s note: Isn’t it completely bizarre that Mick Jagger now looks exactly the same as an ex-Mick Jagger groupie?  Like, anytime he comes on stage now, I’m not sure if it’s actually Jagger, or if it’s an old flame of his, storming the stage.)

At least it was The Black Eyed Peas or a band that was popular during a time when we could actually decipher the Roman Numerals on the Super Bowls.

Now, the Super Bowl Halftime show might’ve been good.  But it could’ve been better.  How you ask?  Oh, I don’t know. . .maybe if THIS HAD HAPPENED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yes, this could/should have happened.

Yes, this could/should have happened.

Yeah, that’s Jay-Z getting ready to spit a fresh verse. . .while wearing a Baby Bjorn containing future-ruler-of-the-world, Blue Ivy Carter.  Now, that would’ve been a halftime show.

Baby When the Lights, Go Out

(*Author’s note: that was a bad boyband song from my youth.  I may or may not have learned how to crappily backwards skate to it.  Judge if you must.)

At the beginning of the third quarter, half of the lights in the Mercedes Benz Super Dome stadium went out.  While Twitter-ers and sports writers stumbled over one another to create a man-made tsunami of puns, the game hit a 30+ minute delay.  What happened?  The while the official story is still unclear I have a theory for exactly what might have gone down. . .

FADE IN:

The 49ers sideline is a glum place.  After falling behind 28-6 at the beginning of the third quarter, the team’s chances of victory are slim.  Coach Jim Harbaugh is pacing violently.  Back and forth, back and forth; a caged tiger wearing khakis.  Only one man dares to speak with this simmering cauldron of rage.

Vic Fangio (49ers D-Coordinator, speaking to Harbaugh via headset):  This is bad, Jim.  This is really f-ing bad.  We’ve got to slow them down.  They’re tearing us apart on the deep ball.  I know you wanted to win this one straight up, man, but I think it’s time.

Jim Harbaugh (shouting back into his headset): No way!  There’s too much at stake!  We. . .well we just can’t do that.  I mean, this is my brother we’re playing?

Fangio: You wanna win or not, Jim?  Do it.  It’s time.  There’s a reason we’ve kept him on the sidelines this whole year.  I think it’s time for Operation Django.  Unchain him.  Let him do what he does.  It’s our only hope.

Harbaugh:  Damn it.  I can’t believe I’m about to say this.

He pauses for a moment, a heated mixture of shame, rage, and hope.  He uncaps his marker-necklace and surreptitiously marks an X on the back of his clipboard and holds it high into the bright stadium lights.

Harbaugh (Barely above a whisper):  Unleash the wolf.

Music builds, a hauntingly devious guitar solo silhouetted against the backdrop of building drums.  The crescendo builds as we see a set of strong hands reaching into a bag and pulling out a pair of bolt cutters, gloves, and a sledge-hammer.  The camera slowly pans up.  The music is into a full-on bad-ass frenzy.  The camera pulls back to reveal the determined face of the The Wolf.

It’s this guy:

The Wolf, seen here in last year's NFC championship game.

The Wolf, seen here in last year’s NFC championship game.

The Wolf: It’s about to get a little. . .dark. . .in here.

He puts on the gloves, tests out the bolt cutters and heads for the tunnel.

Harbaugh: May God have mercy on us all.

Five minutes later the stadium lights for half of the building miraculously shut off.  During the ensuing 34 minutes Harbaugh has a chance to gather his troops and they play like a completely different team after The Wolf goes to work, falling just short of winning it all.

And that, Ladies and Gentleman, was the Super Bowl.  See you next year.

FIN

Burnpoetry Presents: The ONAs (Other NFL Awards)

Posted: January 31, 2013 in Sports
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The NFL awards ceremony is this Saturday.  They’ll be giving out boring, played out awards, like “MVP” and “Rookie of the Year.”  That’s all well and good.  Will I probably watch?  Sure.  If for nothing else other than watching Alec Baldwin roast some of the guys who I watch every Sunday and to hate-Tweet about all the weird suits and fake-glasses that will probably make their appearances among the younger players.  But what awards should really be handed out at the end of the year?  What awards does the NFL secretly hand out when there are no cameras rolling or glitzes glamming?

Burnpoetry investigated and found a secret, underground awards show.

Location: An underground mountain lair, so perfectly hidden that only Nicolas Cage could find it by stealing the NFL Collective Bargaining agreement and deciphering the invisible code off the back with lemon juice, heat, and Angelina Jolie’s dad.

Host: Billy Baldwin.  Not quite as cool as Alec, or even Stephen, but hey, the world needs Cooper Mannings, too.

Red Carpet Ceremony Hosted by: This girl.

Now that the semantics are out of the way, Ladies and Gentleman of Burnpoetry: your 2013 Other NFL Awards.

Indelible, Burned-Into-Your-Corneas-Like-an-Acid-Stamp Image of the Year:
Rex Ryan’s tattoo.

I have to warn you, if you’re about to check out the image below.  You can’t un-see this.

This hideous prison-tat-esque ink-job on the New York Jets’ head coach made the rounds earlier this winter and it has forever altered the way I view tatoos in the NFL.  Sure, Colin Kaepernick might have the most tats on a quarterback’s arm that we’ve ever seen, but this little number (*Author’s note: which appears to be a pantsless Mrs. Ryan doing a Tebow pose while wearing a Jets jersey) is now the standard bearer for all NFL tattoos.  As for the fact that Ryan’s wife looks like Lois from Family Guy a little, or the fact that she is Tebowing in a Sanchez jersey?  It just serves as a microcosm for how the year went for the Jets: confusing, depantsed, and poorly drawn up.

The Ed Hochuli Referee of the Year Award:
Ed Hochuli, for the 22nd year in a row

No shock here.  Hochuli is the Meryl Streep of winng the Ed Hochuli.  He straight up dominates.  He was featured on the cover of Spors Illustrated.  He’s more ripped than half of the players in the league.  Congress has been looking to pass comprehensive gun reform laws simply so he cannot wield his biceps in public areas. When reached for comment, Hochuli would only say, “I need a spotter.”

The Save of the Year:
Ndamukong Suh. . .on Louie Anderson.

Bear with me, here, people.  This story only broke a few days ago and it’s so weird and convoluted that we’re all still trying to make sense of it.  Apparently Ndamukong Suh saved Louie Anderson’s life.  They were both on one of those “Please refer to me as a celebrity.  Please, please, refer to me as a celebrity.  No, seriously, I’m desperate to retain fame” shows where some D-list entertainers and some bored athletes decide to pony up their dignity and compete in a diving competition.  Anderson, famous as much for his annoying drone as he is for his Equator-sized girth, apparently got exhausted after doing too many two-and-a-half pike dives (*Author’s note: and by “pike dives” I mean, cannonballs) and ended up sinking to the bottom of the pool.

Who swooped in to the rescue?  Suh.  What strange, bizarro universe do we live in where Louie Anderson and Ndamukong Suh not only swim in the same “competition” but Suh has to go all David Hasselhoff on everyone and pull him in to safety?  You got me.  But Suh needs some good press.  Here’s his award.

Wookie of the Year:
Brett Kiesel

Forget taking deer antler spray, like Ray Lewis.  I’m pretty sure Brett Kiesel is infusing his own DNA with that of the majestic Wookie species.  You be the judge.  I expect this to be an epidemic that’s infesting all areas of the game within a minimum of 2 years.  Your move, Roger Goodell.

Chewkieselacca

The Gisele Bundchen Most Talked About WOG (Wife or Girlfriend) of an NFL Player Award:
(**PREEMPTIVE STRIKE ALERT**)
Lennay Kekua, AKA This guy:

What, Manti Te’o's not in the NFL yet?  So what.  You’re tired of hearing me right on and on about the bizarre, ridiculous, insanity that is Manti Te’o getting Catfished?  Wait until he gets drafted.  Make no mistake, though, his fake Boo is already the most talked about, Tweeted on, discussed WOG in the NFL.  And he’s not even in the NFL yet.  Besides, I hadn’t made a dumb Lennay Kekua joke in about 2 days.  I was long overdue.

FIN

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