the 4th star

Here’s a photo of Kris Brown and the human shield he’ll be sporting the rest of the season.

On a whim, I decided to check out Brown’s Wikipedia page seconds after he missed the game-tying field goal Monday night, sending the Houston Texans back to mediocrity and putting me out to pasture in the process. It’s bad enough you miss a kick earlier in the game, but to shank that so bad with a post season spot on the line — inexcusable. Especially when you look back to that Indy game earlier in the year. How many big misses does this guy have left in his leg? Maybe he should start kicking with his left leg. FUCK. Here’s a screen grab from Brown’s page:

Funny stuff. And that was posted mere seconds after Jon Gruden stopped saying “This guy!” It seems Texans fans are both upset and in denial. A minute later, the page was cleaned up by Brown’s people and the reality of his inability to rise to the occasion was swept under the rug. That’s the problem with things like Wikipedia and the Internet — they never give you the whole story.

Colours I like more than brown: blue, green, red, yellow, purple, orange, pink, magenta, flesh.

Thanks to Brown’s inability to make pressure kicks, the 4th Star Suicide Pool: Zombie Edition is now over, as two of the three went wide left this past week. Congrats go out to the MDB, who wins on the ridiculous Dallas showing against Washington. Earlier on Sunday, Hudson met his maker on the Steelers flushing their season down the toilet against the Chiefs. Usually the winner gets a bottle of crappy wine, so the next time out the drinks are on me. On the plus side (for my wallet), MDB is heading out of town for a few weeks. I think Dreamcoat is touring in Europe or something. Here’s hoping the ginger one forgets that I owe him a few gin and gingers when he gets back.

That’s it for the weekly pool. There are still six weeks left — plus playoffs.

What the heck are we going to do now?

Gretzky’s Tears
by Stephen Brunt

Roughly five hours. That’s how long it took me to read this *behind the scenes* account of one of the biggest trades in sports history. I say *behind the scenes* like that because two of the key players in the trade — Wayne Gretzky and Peter Pocklington — did not want to contribute to the piece. Pocklington was working on his own book at the time, and Gretz…well, his reputation has taken enough of a beating so why would he want to participate in warming up these leftovers. But without his side of it, the full story remains incomplete. Doesn’t it? That’s not to say the book isn’t of interest, as the positive account of Bruce McNall and the contempt for former Globe and Mail staffer turned public relations flak Jeffery Goodman (who was hired by Peter Puck to sway sympathies his way as the trade leaked out) is evident. It’s not enough, though. Brunt explores some interesting angles about how the deal was first hatched and how it evolved into breaking promises to Mark Messier, but as a reader you kind of get the sense that we’ve been through all this before.

The thinking, and more than one person has come to this relatively easy conclusion, is that Toronto Maple Leafs general manager Brian Burke cannot fire head coach Ron Wilson right now, due to the fact that the two are linked together for the U.S. Olympic team. It wouldn’t really make for a comfortable (or productive) arrangement in the days leading up to Vancouver, having the guy you just axed running the team you just put together. The standard line is that Wilson is safe for now; his job security not in danger due to the American ties of both men.

In his ‘What are the Leaf options’ piece today, Damien Cox touches on the subject of this duel-duty:

Perception is everything in politics and sports, and in this case, there is a growing perception that Wilson would be safe even if the Leafs had zero victories because he has already by tabbed by Burke to coach the American Olympic team in February. Leaf fans will take a lot. They’ve proven that over four decades. But keeping a coach in place so he can coach a U.S. team in the Olympics? That won’t fly, even if it’s not the reason Burke has indicated Wilson is safe.

If Wilson’s job is indeed safe, then what about the players? Guys like Jason Blake and Lee Stempniak will certainly ‘waive’ bye-bye over the next week or so, but what do you do then? If you saw the AHL Marlies play in Winnipeg last weekend, you didn’t see too much immediate help for the parent club. Along those lines, it’s hard not to agree with what David Shoalts says in The Globe:

While it is easy enough to finger a few veterans, especially among the forwards, for demotion, the promotions need some thought. What good would it do to promote rookies like (Tyler) Bozak and (Christian) Hanson into the disheartened atmosphere around the Leafs, especially when those youngsters are not exactly tearing up the American Hockey League?

As they take on the Washington Capitals as I type this, the Maple Leafs have just three wins out of 20 games this season. If there ever was a front-runner for a coaching change at this point, Toronto would win hands down. They’re not a very good team, and with the whispers getting louder that the players have tuned out Wilson’s instruction, the season is well on that slippery slope of losing and frustration. Fans are even starting to stay away — so you know there’s a problem. As Cox writes, unless the club does uncharacteristically well in the next ten contests, there seems to be little choice but to let Wilson go. The problem for Burke, though, is who do you hand the clipboard over to? The list of potential coaches provided in The Star — Gretzky, Laviolette, Keenan, Nolan, MacTavish — is less than inspiring.

Much like the play at the Air Canada Centre this season.

I’m afraid I have to come out of the closet here.

No, no, you silly goose. That’s not what I meant. Interesting your mind went there, though. No, what I’m talking about is the sport of the football. Those burly, sweaty men with their big muscles and tight silk pants slapping and hitting each other on manicured fields of grass, all in the name of skinning a pig and putting it in their opponent’s end. Why is every one named ‘back?’ Quarterback, running-back, cornerback, full back, halfback, tailback — I’ve been looking at the backs of these guys all week but I don’t understand the connection. Or maybe I’ll understand more than you’ll never know. I just blew blue your mind, didn’t I? Tight end. Now there’s a meaty, leading man part I could really sink my teeth into.

It seems people like to bet on the football in Vegas, which is weird because I thought they only had big stage shows there. A wicked little she-devil, this City of Angels. (narrator Ron Howard: it’s called Sin City) I don’t buy this wagering, but I am curious — is that why there are so many men in Vegas? I thought they were just there to see Cirque and the fairest of ladies, Celine Dion. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir? (narrator Ron Howard: he’s thinking of Lady Marmalade)

So I don’t know much about this ball, but I will channel my inner jockeys and put forth some wagers for this slate of matches on Sunday. I think I’m going to go straight this time. (narrator Ron Howard: he means straight up). Yeah, straight it is. A big money shot would certainly put a smile on my face.

Cincinnati at Oakland
Raiders +350

Philadelphia at Chicago
Bears +145

British Columbia at Montreal
Lions +375

Ed note: Based on Tobias’ ridiculous choices, his $30 ticket could profit him $87 at the end of the day. I’m not saying I would follow this path if I were you, but wouldn’t it be a real kick in the never nude cut-offs (or a sausage in the mouth) if he collected on these and you didn’t?

This is confusing. I don’t know why she likes Shean Donovan (above, not wearing the pink button down) but she does. At least she says she does. It’s hard to swallow, as I’m not sure calling him a “toothless wonder” is a term of endearment. It doesn’t seem sincere. You have to feel for Shean. No teeth (according to this female source), and now it looks like he’s gonna be out for a while with a knee injury. He’s a fighter, though. Pour some out for the Man Sandwich today.

For links to sexier men, try this and this. No worries.

Montreal. What a beautiful city. If you’ve never been, what’s wrong with you? If you haven’t been recently (like yours truly), well then drop me a line and we’ll go. I don’t like poutine, though. Sorry. Hope that isn’t a deal breaker for you. I like being pretentious and snobby, though. Back to Montreal for a second. Sadly, I’ve only visited the city once. I went to check out The Forum before it shut its doors. C’est magnifique! Le hockey history. Not knowing what I was doing when I purchased a standing room ticket, imagine my surprise when the beautiful ushers opened the doors and a flood of people started running up stairs. Not wanting to appear anti-French, I started running, too. Did I know where I was going? No. But I sure know where I’ve been.

Turns out there were two or three levels of standing room access. Unaware of this when I started up the tight staircase, I veered off into one of the corridors and found myself standing at one end of the rink. Pretty high up, too. I didn’t really care about that, though. I was just happy to find a spot on the rail that wasn’t obstructed. Looking back, why didn’t that broad who gave us the tour of The Forum earlier in the day mention this? I thought she liked me. Turns out she thought I was stupid. Most french girls do. During that tour, I did grab a practice puck that I found in the stands. Still got it.

Which bring me to the East Final. The B.C. Lions (or is it the Baie-Comeau Lions?) take on the Montreal Alouettes (Sunday, noon, TSN). At first glance, picking this game seems easier than picking your nose. I mean how could how look past the Als here? The best team in the CFL with the best quarterback and an all-star studded line-up. It’s a lock, right? Maybe, maybe not. Consider that geriatric QB Anthony Calvillo has only played like a half of football in two weeks. Could be a little stiff. Consider that the Lions have the best secondary in the league. Could be a factor. Consider that the game is not at Stade Molson (it’s at Stade Olympic). Could be the jinx on the unbeaten home record this season. Consider that Lions QB Casey Printers looks like a million bucks these days. Could be the X-factor. Consider that Montreal head coach Marc Trestman is being rumoured for the Buffalo Bills gig. That could be a distraction. Consider the spread: Willing to lay down 10.5 for the visitors? Could be a factor, too. OK, not really, but for some (like me), the opportunity to make a little scratch might be the biggest pull towards the jungle cats. Look at the straight up line. It’s +375…Cha-ching! See how easy it is to talk yourself into taking the Lions? Screw you, common sense.

I’ve been to Regina a few times. I got really drunk the night before the Labour Day Classic one time. I don’t remember the details — as in what bar my friends and I were at or where we stayed — but I distinctly remember walking back to the hotel after throwing up outside the establishment. What a loser. When kick-off finally rolled around, I was still so sick that it took me a full half to find my legs. Once those were located (and the headache subsided), things in the stands quickly disintegrated into a free-for-all between the Blue Bomber supporters and the Green Rider Priders. Who would have thought peanuts would make such an effective projectile? During one exchange with some Saskatchewaners behind us, with the beers and nuts flying all around, there was a break in the action. A guy wearing a B.C. Lions jersey — correction, a super-tight B.C. Lions jersey — started walking up the stairs into our section. The warfare stopped. Someone started chanting “BEE. CEE SUCKS! BEE. CEE SUCKS!” Everyone got swept up in the altered focus, and the temporary cease-fire turned into an all out assault on this poor Lions sucker.

I also remember getting to field level during the game, too. If memory serves (and for this story, let’s just assume it does), a friend of mine wanted to follow these chicks down there. You know, chat ‘em up. Why I was included in this excursion is anyone’s guess, as I’m neither a quality wingman or person of interest to the opposite sex. But that’s not the point. We were on the sidelines! Damned if I know how we got down there and what we did when we stood at the chalk, but we were there. Interesting side note: There is no beer service on the 30-yard-line. No idea what happened with the girls. I’m guessing my friend blew it. He probably has a different account, though.

As for Sunday’s game in Regina, I will not be there. The Roughriders, hosting their first Western Final in 85 years, are three-point favourites over the defending champion Calgary Stampeders (3 p.m., TSN). With the big Coupe Grey Cup game in Cowtown later this month, there’s a lot on the line for both teams. If Calgary wins, they get the home crowd for a Grey Cup. If the Roughies comes through, they get a home crowd, too — as the entire province of Saskatchewan will fill their trucks with purple gas and make the voyage west. Maybe we can stop at the IKEA, pa? You betcha, dear.

I like the Riders. They are at home and I think Henry Burris will be running for his life all afternoon. Plus no one likes Calgary. Some friendly advice: I wouldn’t bet on this game if I were you. Especially if you’re using this preview in your information-gathering process. You’ve been warned. Besides, as most of you know, I’ll have my eyes fixed on the late afternoon draw in the NFL. I do have another Regina story, involving me freezing mt ass off at a Grey Cup game, but I’ll save that for another day. I think Baltimore won that year. I don’t remember.

Classic rock continues to take over the Friday Wrap Jam. For those in need of some lyrics (ed note — what’s wrong with you?), feel free to sing along. You should’ve seen by the look in my eyes, baby. There was something missing. You should’ve known by the tone in my voice, maybe. But you didn’t listen. You played dead, but you never bled, instead you lay still in the grass, all coiled up and hissing. And though I know all about those men, still I don’t remember. Cause it was us, baby, ready for them. And we’re still together. And I meant, every word I said when I said that I love you, I meant that I’d love you forever. And I’m gonna keep on loving you. Cause it’s the only thing I wanna do. I don’t wanna sleep, I just wanna keep on loving you.

For versions worse than the one you just provided the office, click on the images:

The Winnipeg Blue Bombers board of directors meet today. One the one side, we have a case for a return to the status quo. On the other side, less of an endorsement. How the chips will fall is anyone’s guess, but the smart money is on Mike Kelly returning for a second season of internal handling and message controlling. Because you asked, here’s my Kelly forecast. I’ve never played sports at a high level so take this prediction for what it’s worth:

Kelly, singing the praises of being a new, likable version of his former self, opens camp with 12 quarterbacks, 10 of them having no CFL experience to speak of. Included in this mix is Michael Bishop. He takes the first snap of training camp and tosses it into the Hooters parking lot. Everyone comments on what a cannon he has. Kelly, who interrupts a gripping getting-coffee-for-Andy Reid story during the post-workout interview session, takes credit for Bishop’s strong arm. A minute later he apologizes. “Sorry you guys are so stupid,” he says. No one laughs. Except for ‘The Plagiarist.’ He loves to laugh. He’s laughable.

The season breaks with no legitimate CFL pivot at the helm. Everyone opens their hymn books to the verse entitled ‘We Just Want to Get Better Every Week.’ The choir sounds really good early on, as the 2009 season of practice starts to pay off. Faced with an empty stadium and an early must-win situation, the Bombers stumble out of the gate to an 0-2 record. The heat gets turned up on Kelly. He no longer answers his cell phone. In fact, he has all the phones in the Bombers offices removed. His reasoning? People are phoning just to complain — they’re not calling for tickets — so why have them? Don’t give them the option. During the explanation to reporters, an errant Bishop pass sails over the scrum. “Thank you very much, gentlemen,” Kelly says, storming out.

Winnipeg wins the next game but then fumbles through the next two, falling to 1-4 or 2-3 and last in the East Division. Cue the death march. The Bombers drop the next game, look very 2009 in the process, and that’s the ballgame. The bell sounds; Kelly’s time is up. Message boards are humming and columns are recycled. With a 1-5 (or 2-4) record and no sign of any life on offence or in the stands, the move is made by Lyle Bauer. The CEO says all the right things at the autopsy, rehashing what everyone knows about the experience and the challenges Kelly had with the public part of the gig. The next day, those comments read “It was him or me, and I have a million dollar cottage to pay for.” Kelly bites Bauers’s ankles before heading back to Philadelphia. A few days later Bauer, having taken all the pens and staplers he could find in the Bombers offices, heads to the lake for good. The ink on his resignation letter is still wet as the Harley rumble fades out of range. A week later, David Asper announces he’s not going to be taking control of the team and a new stadium will not be coming from his pockets. Twelve hours after that, the east side of the existing stadium collapses to the Earth. Though countless bottles of Appleton’s are destroyed in the fallout, the destruction is seen as an improvement by fans. Players don’t share that opinion. “The wind is playing tricks with the ball now,” Bishop says, after bouncing a pass off the front panel of a car out on Empress.

Home dogs everywhere, which should make for some interesting moneylines as the week moves on. Tampa Bay (plus eleven) versus New Orleans? Chiefs (plus ten) against the Steelers? Oakland almost a 10-point underdog against Cincinnati? St. Louis is a home dog against Arizona, too. Don’t know about you, but I’m already rolling pennies for Sunday’s games.

Cash is of no consequence for the 4th Star Suicide Pool: Zombie Edition, so the remaining players in this exercise need not worry about hitting the Money Mart before making their selections here. I’m going to go out on a limb here and try some Houston Texans this time around. Texarkana has killed several members of the suicide pool this season. I’m here to avenge those killings. Sure, Tennessee is rolling, and you would have to be a fool to bet against a rejuvenated Vince Young returning to the state where he dominated in college — against the team that passed him over in the draft — but that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Swim out past the breakers, watch the world die.

MDB and Ian (Hudsy) Hudson. Your picks in the comments.