Luke Walton’s next job may happen despite the fact that he is currently considered the luckiest sumbitch in the history of lucky sumbitches. According to Sports Illustrated’s Lee Jenkins, though, some general managers are starting to think there might be more to him than being the designated heir of the best team in basketball. Maybe it’s that he, and they, are on to something.
“I sometimes wonder why Golden State's main guys never seem to miss a game that matters for injury,” said an opposing GM. “I used to think it was luck. I’m not sure anymore. Something about the way they play, the joy they have, brings good things to their lives. It breeds positive events.”
Nahhh. They’re cheating.
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Jose Mourinho finally got the gate Thursday after months of Chelsea player and fan discord, months after the Blues won the Premier League in a stroll, and best of all, after the team’s silver service Christmas lunch: “How was your meal? Good? Great. Now get out, and never darken our towels again.”
It’s just a way to remind you that nobody is safe, ever, and the spur to put the gloriously mercurial Mourinho in any coach/rumor story in any sport, in any country, for any reason, for the next three years, minimum.
And for you stubborn anti-soccer types, we’ll put it this way: Jose Mourinho makes Jim Harbaugh look like a park bench.
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UMass guard Trey Davis knows fear, both and what and whom. After a small shooting slump ended when he dropped 40 on New Orleans, he credited his motivational coach.
“Man, my mom turned my phone off after the game we just lost,” Davis said after the game, via MassLive. “She was mad. Talking about my free throws and all this other stuff. She said ‘Why are you missing free throws and all these jump shots?’ So she just turned my phone off and she told me, ‘Get it together.’”
In other words, playing time is tough to lose. Texting time is way worse.
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Emily Kaplan and Robert Klemko of MMQB.com typed a fairly extensive analysis of NFL officiating and the perceptions therein, and ended by concluding that technology can help solve the endless problem.
Actually, so can robot officials (Star Wars, after all, has already postulated that robots would replace human players). So can fan voting after every play. So can do-overs. So can players calling their own fouls.
Well, face it, kids, accept the fact that the game is ungovernable, get out of daily fantasy and just drink on Sundays. You’ll be surprised how much better the officiating is when you’re seeing six of everything. It works for me.
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Or just let Iman Shumpert make all the calls. After all, with zero days of obstetrics training, he delivered his fiancee’s child in a bathroom when the kid was making an extra-uterine break for freedom, and he had the wit to not deal with the usual Lamaze stuff but taking his headphone cord to tie off the umbilical cord after catching the baby.
Next to that, figuring out a catch seems relatively easy.
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The Atlanta Braves are being rebuilt from scratch as they prepare to actually leave Atlanta for the suburbs, so they played the goodwill ambassador card by hiring former star third baseman Chipper Jones as a special assistant in baseball operations.
This means one thing for sure. Barry Bonds’ successor as hitting coach for the Miami Marlins has been found.
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The Thursday night NFL game went from Christmas (Buffalo-New York Jets) to sky blue-and-phlegm (Tennessee-Jacksonville) and finally a condiment tray (Rams-Bucs).
And yet ratings are still up from last year. I give up. We get the cultural disasters we deserve.
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And finally, Sam Farmer of the Los Angeles Times recounted the NFL-Recolonizes-Los Angeles story as it currently exists – which is the way it existed about six months ago.
In short, we have bribes to go before we sleep.