We’ll be back to America’s Funniest Home Kitchen Fires after this …
“Ever dream of becoming an executive? Of what? Anything! Just imagine running a network TV division!
“Well, dream no more! It’s as easy as clicking your heels together! Introducing the Dorothy Gale Executive Method from ScamCo. Operators are standing by for your order. And if you call in the next 60 seconds we’ll send you the other ruby red shoe, absolutely free!”
One can nearly hear the Fox Sports executive meeting that this week led to its latest brilliant hire:
“OK, who’s out there to add to our college football studio show, you know, someone who fits our standard of hiring reprobates who have corrupted sports?”
“Well, there’s Urban Meyer.”
“Perfect! Marge, get me Meyer’s agent on the phone, and make it snappy. I don’t want ESPN beating us to this punch!”
And so at a time when the integrity of college sports is in flaming free fall, Fox has hired Meyer, a deeply religious man who adheres to the gospel of winning by hook and by crook, first at Florida, then at Ohio State, by choosing wrong over right. His UF players were arrested at least 31 times in his six seasons, more to come at OSU.
Not that such hires have ever worked to attract viewers, not at ESPN or Fox, the latter having embraced such solid citizens as Ray Lewis, Pete Rose, Alex Rodriguez, Randy Moss, trash-tweeter Josh Norman, “Hard Time” Michael Vick and Cris “The Mentor” Carter.
Will Fox ask Meyer to reveal his recruiting secrets, those he used at UF to engage so many pros and cons? Not a chance. He’ll be asked how Northwestern can stop Michigan State’s running game.
Regardless, take that, ESPN! Fox can match your hires, bad guy for bad guy!
Naturally, not all executive positions can be secured from along the yellow brick road. Some execs are handed the keys to the Emerald City via royal inheritance.
Jim Dolan, whose excessive sense of family self-entitlement leaves him expecting gratitude from his annually frustrated and financially flayed customers — and he’s another humorless bully who can’t take a poke — demands understanding and patience with an ownership he’d never suffer.
And if you don’t like it, get out and stay out! How dare you think of them as your teams, no matter how much he charges? Those are his teams.
To qualify for the playoffs, NBA and NHL teams must finish in the top eight of their conferences, not a demanding standard.
Yet, with the Rangers and Knicks about to miss the playoffs, one or the other has not qualified 24 times since 1996, the year Dolan ascended to the Garden’s throne. That’s hard to do if you ruled from a rabbit hole. Would Dolan have canned Dolan if he ran the Garden for him? A dozen times!
Does his totalitarian sense of entitlement — snits with media and patrons who occasionally remind him that he’s terrible at running the show — render him unable to grasp that he invites, even earns, more rancor than he receives?
Then there are the advertising and marketing executives who continue to degrade sports by rewarding the most conspicuously attention-starved, only-about-me selfish. The current harvest includes Odell Beckham Jr., an instant TV endorsement darling, and Antonio Brown, another TV endorsement — and police — magnet.
Both, while extremely talented, were driven to steadily undermine their teams, coaches and clubs’ patrons while bestowed steady, second-income commercial reward. To the spoilers go the spoils.
For several seasons, NBC’s “Sunday Night Football” opened with video of Beckham and Brown showboating, as if that’s worthy of our extra attention and admiration. Those at the wheel had no idea they were being gamed by those eager to wreck the game? Or they just didn’t care?
How difficult is it to be such an executive?
The NFL chose Ray Lewis to endorse NFL goods. Was the league unaware of his career as a fined, suspended and remorselessly brutal headhunter who paid off the families of the victims of a double homicide to which he copped an obstruction of justice plea? Not a chance. So why was he chosen?
And now Fox proudly presents Urban Meyer. No more calls, we have a winner!
Mike Francesa in front row of fraudsters
Mike Francesa this week was expelled from the PLC — the Pathological Liars Club — for giving it a bad name.
When a caller busted his chops about his steady, shameless boasts to always have the best seats to big events, Francesa took great offense, countering with the serious but comical claim that he “never, ever, brings it up, ever, unless someone brings it up to me.”
To that, the @backaftathis Twitter account cobbled together a string of a dozen recent audio/videos of Francesa, no prompting, bragging about his privileged great seats. Check it out.
In dumping Francesa, the PLC wished him the best — but don’t believe it.
The Giants were suckered into wasting a bundle by re-signing childish, rotten-risk Odell Beckham Jr.? OK, but millions of dollars later, they woke up.
On the other hand, how many tens of millions dollars have NFL patrons wasted on Roger Goodell’s “good investments” PSLs?
A Giants season-ticket holder for more than 50 years recently sold his five tickets at face value. As for the $62,500 he was forced to spend on PSLs, he received zilch in return. And he’s not alone. Hardly.
If there’s a network interested in hiring an ex-player analyst for the right reasons, it should consider Adam Wainwright, the Cardinals’ 37-year-old pitcher — even if he hasn’t been busted for PEDs.
Monday with Harold Reynolds on MLB Network from spring training, Wainwright didn’t just demonstrate and explain how he throws his curve, he did so with easy, breezy, engaging humor.
When Reynolds returned it to the studio, host Brian Kenny spoke for many viewers, admiring Wainwright’s natural likability.
What was the FanFool prop bet on this?
Texas’s leading scorer, Kerwin Roach, was returned from his “team violations” suspension — his second this season, third overall — just in time for the Big 12 Tournament. UT went 1-4 during Roach’s latest suspension, but who’s counting?
While many of us can’t remember why we walked into the other room, we well recall the numbers worn by our sports heroes when we were kids.
Born decades too late to have associated No. 3 with Babe Ruth, I had the Rangers’ gentlemanly defenseman Harry Howell, who died last week at 86, as my first-team No. 3.
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