Showing posts with label Chicago Bears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chicago Bears. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Judge Puts Booze Brakes on Benson, There's Something Weird About This Whole Thing

Ignition Denied

Drinking and driving is bad. No two ways about. There is nothing funny about operating any sort of motorized vehicle while intoxicated (maybe a golf cart). We wanted to get that out of the way first before talking about Cedric Benson. Because we're starting to get the vibe that the folks down in Austin just might have it out for the former Longhorn standout.

First, Benson gets arrested for boating while intoxicated on Lake Travis in Austin. Now, boating and booze have gone together like peas and carrots for just about, well, forever (what else does one do on a boat besides drink?). Again, not that it's right, but bringing Benson down to the clink seemed a little extreme based on the initial reports. Maybe you put somebody else at the wheel, tow the boat in, give him a ticket and warning?

Then, of course, there was the pepper spray and resisting arrest part of the story, all of which Benson disputed then and continues to today. Too many versions of the story. Too much distance between those recounts of the episode. Not buying it.

Only a month later, Benson gets nabbed again. This time his arrest comes on land where Austin cops say he ran a red light and failed a field sobriety test in downtown Austin. Now, I spent a lot of time in Austin. New York City it is not. But it's not that small. It takes some pretty dumb luck (or maybe just a really dumb dude) to get nailed twice in the span of five weeks for the always tough t0 achieve DW/BW-I combo.

Now it seems like unabashed piling on. Yesterday, a judge ordered that Benson install an "ignition interlock breathalyzer" in his car within 72 hours. First off, shows how long I've been without a car that I didn't even know these things existed. Apparently, this is somewhat standard procedure these days, but how might it be I'd never heard of such an action being taken before? I understand it was two violations within five weeks, but, again, there's something fishy about this whole thing (pun really not intended just utterly lacking a formidable vocabulary).

The fact that an athlete is denying he/she was drunk is nothing new. But to do it both times so adamantly is either sheer arrogance or unparalleled stupidity. If we were judging by mugshots alone, we'd be inclined to say one if not both of the above were at play. But something tells us there's more than meets the eye on this one. Anyone else feeling it?

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Friday, May 9, 2008

The LCG Weekly Reminiscence: Mookie, Ferris and the Super Bowl Shuffle

Welcome to the first installment of the LCG Weekly Reminiscence. This feature will be part sports history, part personal memories and part pop culture redux. Today, we take a stroll down memory lane 1986-style. Come back next week for '87.

I'd gone to sleep. I wasn't actually asleep, but I'd gone upstairs to my bunk bed in an act of stubborn defiance (at least in my own mind), refusing to give this team one more second of my precious time.

I'm not sure what was more pathetic...that I had already given up on my team, consequently leading to my missing one of the more memorable moments in Mets franchise history. Or that I just wrote that last sentence [technically, a fragment]. Probably the latter. So where were we again?

Oh yes, October 25, 1986. I had recently celebrated my ninth birthday and had long since been indoctrinated into Mets fandom by a Brooklyn-born mother and a father who was somehow bamboozled into being a believer back in 1969. On the transistor dial (OK, Z100 and 95.5WPLJ), DJs were cranking out tunes from Lionel Richie, Belinda Carlisle and Huey Lewis and the News. I couldn't get enough of Spy Hunter at our local pizza joint, and it was a close race between Maverick and Ferris as to who was the coolest (Cameron Frye had also convinced us a Gordie Howe Red Wings sweater had to be our next sports jersey purchase).

Earlier that evening, the family had gathered for some form of takeout served in our fairly cramped kitchen. We "dined" at a familiar, worn wooden table with metal legs and collapsible leaves on each side that I strangely recall pinching me on multiple occasions, forever drawing my scorn. It also had rollers on the bottom of the legs, which is an important point for absolutely no reason at all.

In stark contrast to the 50' Pioneer plasma screen I recently purchased, our viewing experience was delivered compliments of an 8' Panasonic black-and-white model. I believe it also had a radio function, which I always found wickedly-cool and innovative. There was a button marked "VHF" on the lower right that you always needed to press in to ensure proper functionality. UHF was apparently bad. VHF = good. UHF = bad. The whole playing with the antenna thing was also an art that took years to perfect.

In terms of the game, for those not from Planet Earth, it was Game Six of the 1986 World Series. The Mets trailed the Sawx 3-2 in the best of seven. Mom, Dad and I had watched every minute of the action together (my sister was three at the time; I have no recollection of her existence from this particular evening). Despite being a lifetime nocturnal creature, by 10 p.m. or so that evening, I was starting to fade. I was nine, cut me a little slack.

More precisely, I was experiencing that sinking, empty, horrifying feeling that mature sports fans can't help but suffer through multiple times in their lifetime. For me, it was one of the first. The awful, sickening realization that it was all going to end. After 108 regular-season wins...after six agonizing games in Houston...16 innings...enduring Billy Hatcher...it was all for naught. The Sox were going to win the World Series. The champagne was already on ice. And I was done with the Mets. Definitely for that evening, maybe forever (employing the always logical rationale a 9-yr old fan often calls upon).

While I sulked upstairs, away from the TV, it began to happen. Watching it today, it seems even more unbelievable. The Mets were down and out. Two outs. Calvin Shiraldi and his 1.41 ERA on the hill. Bottom ten. Shea funeral parlor silent since Dave Henderson went yard in the top of the 10th, and the Sox tacked on another to stretch the lead to 5-3. Vin Scully telling listeners that Oil Can Boyd will have a day off and the camera pans to Roger Clemens flashing a sh*t-eating grin.
2-1 count to Gary Carter.

Then Carter lines a single. Kevin Mitchell. Single. Shea stirs. Ray Knight singles. Carter scores, Mitchell to third. 5-4 Sox. Bob Stanley replaces Shiraldi. Mookie Wilson steps to the plate. On a 2-2 count, Stanley uncorks a wild pitch. Knight scores. Tie game. Pandemonium in Queens. Then, on a full count, Mookie hits a weak dribbler towards you-know-who and the the rest as they say is history...plus, Vin Scully says it so much better.



I, meanwhile, laid upstairs staring at the ceiling and fuming. Then came the shout/shriek from downstairs. My mother. Screaming for me to "hurry! come downstairs, come downstairs!" I responded with melancholy silence. Mother repeating: "COME DOWN! They scored...they won...Mookie...[garbled nonsense]."

It took awhile to get convince me. But after a few more shouts, I begrudgingly sauntered down the stairs. After imploring me to look at the TV and wipe the dried up tears away, reality hit. They
had done it. Two strikes away from elimination with nobody on, no hope in a stadium that resembled a funeral home, the improbable had happened. And I'd missed every second of it.

Here's a quick-hitting look at what else was going on back in 1986...Chernobyl, The Challenger Disaster, Iran-Contra Affair, Run D.M.C, Dire Straits, The Bangles, Slippery When Wet, Top Gun, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Platoon, Aliens (sick movie year!), the hi-top fade, Swatch, ALF and, of course, these guys.




See you next week as we stroll down memory lane, 1987-style.

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Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Da Bears Fans Loving QB Moves

One More Year? I'll Drink to That

When you're a Jets fan, occassionally you must indulge in the guily pleasure of enjoying the sorrow and angst of fans of other NFL franchises. Now, the Bears made a nice little run not too long ago, so they really don't have that much to complain about. Generally speaking, we'd trade spots with them in a heartbeat. Well, maybe not in the quarterback department.

While one can seriously debate the future of the Jets situation behind center, Orton and Grossman is a starting quarterback dilemma no fan should have to face. The notion of that debate alone induces nausea...and we're not even Bears fans. Imagine what they're feeling. Actually, why exert any energy conjuring up their venom when the wonders of the Web can deliver them directly? A few of our favorite musings from around this here blogosphere...

From the Sun-Times Full Court Press blog...
Posted by: bculz
February 24, 2008 08:38 AM

The thought of Lovie Smith standing at the podium, declaring that,"Rex is our quarterback" and saying it with a straight face, sends chills down my spine.

Posted by: Keith Lifetime Southsider February 24, 2008 10:35 AM
Crappy winter,The Bulls suck, The White Sox don't look too impressive, and now this. Put Angelo, Lovie, and Wrecks on a small rocket and blast them all into the black hole.

Reader comments from the Chicago Tribune ...

"Insanity: Doing the same things over and over and over and over and over and expecting different results."

"The impending 'battle for the quarterback job' is like watching season premier week on Me-TV. Hype it all you want, it's second rate reruns. By the way, early in every episode you remember how it turns out."

"Not only unbelievable, but unBEARable. 3 million dollars for a deer in the headlights quarterback? Oh! please spare us from another losing season?"

From Da Bears blog...

"One more year of Kyle "I can't hit the broad side of a barn" Orton...Tell me, which one of you guys is in charge of Jerry Angelo a bouquet of flowers for his wondrous job building the NFC's most explosive offense???"

"Like I've always said, when a team says it has two starter-grade quarterbacks then it means it doesn't even have one. Good luck with that Kyle Orton and Rex Grossman thing Chicago."

"Like watching a train wreck in slow motion."

"Speechless, that pretty much sums up my feelings for rex"

Perhaps Rumors and Rants summed it up best in this post, the intro of which is included below...

"Hey guess what Bears fans? You know how your team decided to bring back a quarterback who's virtually worthless last week? Well, the did it again tonight! That's right, not only is the Sex Cannon going to be back in the Windy City next year, so will Kyle Orton as he continues his way to dying young due to cirrhosis of the liver."

We should note that many, many die-hards are lauding the moves. But how much fun is it to read those comments?

Monday, October 1, 2007

They Say Misery Loves Company

There are others with whom to commiserate


I've got nothing left to say about the baseball season. For my thoughts on the Mets, please refer to Saturday morning's
post. Beginning tomorrow, The Legend of Cecilio Guante will become the unofficial home of the Cleveland Indians and, hopefully, the Colorado Rockies. We will unabashedly cheer them and sing their respective praises.

Instead of harping on my own personal fan nightmare, I'd like to take cues from the many watering holes around the world where sullen drunkards engage in a timeless tradition...engaging other sullen drunkards to debate who has it worse. So, on this fine Monday morning we look at some of the other fans who are suffering. None of them can hold a candle right now to the Mets die-hards, but it is nonetheless strangely comforting to hear their sob stories.

We'll set this all up with a simple formula and then provide some links that elaborate. It goes like this...
As a fan of the [fill in team] I am angry this morning beacuse [fill in event]. Ready, go.

1. As a fan of the Oklahoma Sooners, I am angry this morning because my team got
embarrassed by Colorado (Crimson and Cream Machine).

2. As a fan of the Syracuse Orangemen, I am angry this morning because my team came off of a win at Louisville (breaking a 20-game home win streak for the Cards) only to
fall to Miami (OH) 17-14 (Syracuse.com).

3. As a fan of the Chicago Bears, I am angry this morning because my team lost to the Detroit Lions and my new quarterback couldn't stop
handing the ball to the other team (Windy City Gridiron).

4. As a fan of the Florida Gators, I am angry this morning because a team that lost to Mississippi at home
beat us in the Swamp (Orange and Blue Hue).

5. And, finally, as a fan of the St. Louis Rams and San Diego Chargers, there are so many reasons we are angry. But at least in the land of sunshine the power of fans' venom is singularly directed (Fire Norv Turner). To quote a wise old sage, Norv Turner = born loser. The Fire Scott Linehan Web site may not be far behind(Doberman on the Diamond).

And by far my favorite, courtesy of Kissing Suzy Kolber.

As a fan of the Minnesota Vikings, I am angry this morning because my team does not give the ball to its best player (what's not to love about a post entitled "DIE"?).

For all Legend visitors, please feel free to join in the pity party by posting your version in the comments.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Monday Musings: Sexy Rexy, The 'Cuse and More

"At least someone still loves me despite my 27.5 passer rating..."


Pleasant Monday to all loyal Legend readers and new visitors. Before we get to the weekend wrap, a quick note that we received a quick
shout-out from sports blog Godfather Will Leitch over at Deadspin on Friday. We'd like to extend a personal thank you to Isiah Thomas for occassionally making our job just too damn easy. With Thomas and Dolan both scheduled to take the stand this week, I'm eagerly anticipating the Post and Daily News back pages.

The highlights and lowlights from another glorious weekend of sports action.

Simply Gross: Even Lovie Smith has to have a breaking point. Doesn't he? In another game where the spotlight shined brightly on Rex Grossman, he proved himself utterly inadequate. Lion in Oil officially denounced their loyalty this morning and many more windy fans are lined up right behind them.

San Diego...Not-so-Super Chargers: Now, I know the coach is not the root of all ills for the Chargers. HOW-ever (and you know how much we love linking to our own posts), Mr. A.J. Smith this CAN NOT surprise you. How many different ways do we need to say this? Norv Turner = born loser.

Dear Louisville: Never mention the words "national title" in the same sentence as "Louisville Cardinals." In a loss that falls short only to UM/App. St., the high-powered Cardinals lost AT HOME to a pretty terrible Syracuse team. It also solidified the notion that you can never take this all-O, no-D team seriously when discussing the elite teams in the country. Sometimes capturing the sentiment of a fan base cannot be done any better than visiting a blog of a hard-core, educated fan of that team. In this case, the source of information is Card Chronicle. Read the post when you have half an hour to spare. If you don't have that kind of time, let us pull some of the more memorable quotes:

"I'm sitting here a day later and I still have absolutely no idea what to write about what I witnessed Saturday afternoon..."

"I can't imagine there being another reasonably eligible head coach on this planet who could have done a worse job thus far than Steve Kragthorpe."

"I will never, ever boo a Louisville team or coach, but for the first time in my life I found myself feeling glad that other people were. "

Call me a Bandwagoner: But I'm pulling for Favre to lead the Packers back to the playoffs and go out on a high note. Maybe it's those oh-so-genuine Wrangler jeans commercials, or the fact that he is now playing the way critics have been encouraging him to play the last three seasons, but there is something compelling about this whole thing. Old gunslinger...putting a young team on his back...finally trusting in his supporting cast...coming to a realization about how we can best lead them...good stuff all around.

Other good stuff...

'Bama/Ga. on Saturday night was one of the better games I've caught this season.

We often forget that these big-time college ballplayers are...well, college kids. Therefore, it should not be surprising that WVa. quarterback Pat White is enamored with Erin Andrews. Listen Pat, when you grow up that infatuation will go awa...wow, she is hot isn't she?

A solitary blogger tries to keep the hopes of a nation alive.

Oh yes, and the J-E-T-S got a W-I-N, while the Mets managed to give away another three-run cushion and provide their fans with a mild coronary before beating those pesky fish in 11. This will continue to be anything-but-easy.

And, finally, congrats to Erie's Scribe and the rest of Wahoo nation on the Tribe officially clinching a spot in the postseason. If you haven't noticed...and judging by the lack of media attention...you haven't...the Indians are the hottest team in baseball.