Mini-Rant: Big Ben claiming he is a Yinzer

Ben Roethlisberger provided the following quote to reporters upon checking in at St. Vincent College for this year’s Steelers Training Camp:

“…I love Pittsburgh. I’m a ‘yinzer.’ I don’t say it, but I am a yinzer. I feel like they are home to me, they are family. So I feel like I let my family down through all of this, so that is why I hope family forgives.”

HOLY. SHIT.

Has there ever been a more calculating load of PR bullshit than this? “I’m a yinzer.” My head nearly exploded upon reading.

As has been previously discussed on this site, I am a “yinzer.” I spent nearly 30 years in Pittsburgh and was born and raised in the Mon Valley. I root for the Penguins, Pitt, the lowly Pirates and especially the Steelers. There has not been one day over the past half decade that I have not missed the ‘burgh and the unique people and experiences of my hometown. Yinzers are good people.

Big Ben evoking a title he has not earned or was birthed into is just ridiculous. It has been a point of pride for the city that in the past so many former Steelers (and other sports figures) have decided to call Pittsburgh home after their playing careers ended. They loved the city and its people enough to retire in Western PA. Mel Blount, Lynn Swann, Bill Mazeroski, Mario… There are plenty of others that I am missing.  Yet Big Ben spends his off-season chasing co-ed ass around back water Georgia where he has his off-season home.

Roethlisberger referring to himself as a ‘yinzer’ was nothing but a naked PR move. He is saying: “I am one of you. I am you. We are the same. You can’t be mad at me because we need to get through this together. Family protects each other.” What crap. Big Benjamin got in this mess because he felt entitled. Entitled to bed any babe he deemed worthy. Maybe it would be good for him not to feel entitled to the adulation of Steelers fans. I doubt I can ever root for him. Others will. I personally can not. But if Steelers fans want to root for him, at least make sure he works for it.  The media certainly is not going to make him work for it.

If I were in Latrobe I would ask Roethlisberger a couple follow up questions that the “play nice Pittsburgh sports media” appears too afraid to ask…

“Was asking your golf tournament escort to come fix a fully functioning TV then bedding her a ‘yinzer’ move?”

“After a crazy night dawntawn do you like your Primanti’s with egg or without?”

“Do you feel like you wasted millions of potential ‘baby yinzers’ by blowing your semen all over a bathroom door?”

“As a ‘yinzer’ how many jorts do you own?”

“Is getting drunk in a college bar, serving drinks to an already intoxicated underage girl then using your police officer buddies to escort her into a bar bathroom for sex ‘yinzer’?”

“What exactly about you is ‘yinzer?’”

But why would anyone ask a follow up question to his original statement…

Thanks for coming and suckling on Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
Bearcat

Mini-Rant: Public Relations

  DSB suggests not taking PR advice from any of these guys…

Bill Gates once said that if he had only a single dollar left to spend, he’d spend it on PR.

Sounds like a ringing endorsement for public relations… and if you are a trillion dollar monopoly who got most of their early stuff by stealing from IBM and Apple then you probably need it. But if you are a million dollar athlete or celebrity the last thing you need is a PR man.  The idea seems to be that with good PR you can shift the power from the people who are reporting the news to the person who is (most time unfortunately) making the news. What you really need most likely is to either shut up or just be honest and tell the whole story.

If you get caught in a scandal today every word you speak from that point on is dictated by a PR professional.  Got caught taking steroids, cheating on your wife or busted by the fuzz?  Here are some of the standard PR responses or plans of action:

Learn the phase: “I would like to apologize. “ You would like to apologize but you are not actually going to apologize.  This is important.

Refuse to say what you are apologizing for.

Never say you are sorry.  Sorry sounds like guilty.

If you have to say you are sorry use the term “if.”  “I am sorry if I offended anyone.” or  “If you are offended then I am truly sorry.”  If you weren’t offended then I don’t care because obviously you don’t either.

Never utter the words steroids, drugs, problem, sex, affair, other women, cheating or terroristic threat.

When caught red handed pretend it did not happen.

Although you have never wanted privacy before this event ask for privacy in dealing with this “family matter.”  It does not matter that you got caught with a dead tranny hooker; this is still just a “family matter.”

Blame it on society.  The pressures to perform, and your drive for success made you do it.  It’s almost like you were doing ‘roids for the fans and therefore it is their fault!  They owe you an apology damn it!

Cry.  If you are crying some people will feel sorry for you.

Say “No one can be as hard on me as I am being on myself.”  That is complete horseshit but it will cause some people to come to your defense.  “Stop beating him up… he is already beating himself up over this.”

Blame your buddies.  “I wanted to pay my taxes but Mookie, my accountant, was moving all my money to off shore accounts without my knowledge.” Or  “I have no idea why my friend T-Bill would have turned my walk-in-closet into a weapons cache holding 563 guns, several land mines, and a Stinger surface-to-air missile.”

If shit is really bad you go to rehab and come back a new person with a new outlook on life.

If shit ain’t so bad then you are “relaxing at a spa” and not in rehab.

See, I have just saved you hundreds of thousands of dollars today.  But here is an idea… How about instead of doing a half ass apology or not telling the whole truth you try one of two things.  Just shut up.  Don’t talk at all.  Don’t open your mouth.

Or come out and give an apology like this…

I used steroids.  I used them even though I knew it was wrong because they made me a better athlete and helped me win.  I used them because they made me stronger, faster and better than those who did not use them.  I should not have used steroids.  Today, I am sorry that I used these drugs.  I am sorry for what I have done to my sport and to my fellow competitors.  I know that I have diminished both my legacy and my sport by doing this.  I am sorry for that too.

You could say those things but then again that would be honest… Unless you are not sorry.  If you are not sorry… then just go ahead and hire the PR man.  At least it lets us know you are not sorry.

Thanks for coming and suckling on Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
Bearcat

Mini-Rant: Why we will never go to Mars

Forty years ago yesterday we put a man on the moon… On July 20, 1969 the United States of America put a man on the moon and on December 14, 1972 we left with these words:

“As I take man’s last step from the surface, back home for some time to come— but we believe not too long into the future — I’d like to just[say] what I believe history will record — that America’s challenge of today has forged man’s destiny of tomorrow. And, as we leave the Moon at Taurus-Littrow, we leave as we came and, God willing, as we shall return, with peace and hope for all mankind. Godspeed the crew of Apollo 17.” – Eugene A. Cernan, Apollo 17 Commander (the last man to walk on the moon)

He could not have been more wrong… we won’t return.  I was born almost exactly six years after Apollo Mission number 17 began.  I am now 30 years old and I am certain that during my life we will fail to reach for the stars as we did 40 years ago.  I figure I am good for at the very least 40 more years but there will certainly not be a return trip to the moon before calendars read 2049.  We are not going to the moon and we are not going to Mars.  We aren’t going anywhere.  A human being hasn’t left low Earth orbit since the Apollo 17 crew returned from the moon’s orbit and we aren’t going to venture any further out cause we don’t have the balls to do so.

The only exploration of Martian dust, rocks, dormant volcanoes and possible fossick records of life will be done by robots orchestrated from a 170+ million miles away by a guy with a joystick.

We will never truly conquer other worlds in my lifetime and frankly I think the human race has flunked the next great test.  We did worse then flunked…we failed to show up.  We failed because we lack the intestinal fortitude to take the necessary risk to leave our planet for real;  to venture into the unknown.

I have been to the Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C. more times than I would like to count and besides the astronaut ice cream the only reason I wanted to be there was to see the NASA exhibits.  The Apollo exhibit is disturbing to look at in person.  The Apollo space craft appears to be a cone shaped outhouse constructed of basal wood, bubble gum, duct tape and Reynolds’ aluminum foil built by the lowest bidding government contractor.  The courage it must have taken to get into that machine as it was launched into space doesn’t appear to exist today.  The fragility of their transportation would be unacceptable for a Hover-Round let alone an outer space voyage.

It should be regarded as the crowning achievement of humanity thus far…to put a person on the surface of a heavenly body that has been the source of wonder since the dawn of time.  After four decades we can see it as the confluence of several influences… Nazi rocket scientist… the Cold War forcing the space race following Sputnik… and fighter pilots, turned test pilots, turned astronauts that had the right stuff… an American people who were ginned up by the success of World War II and the economic prosperity that followed.
An exuberance within the people of this country that pushed the process forward where today it would stall out at a moments notice.

Scientists used slide-rules and paper to navigate space, the whole process was being flown by the seat of their pants (literally).  How is this not discussed every single freaking day over the past 40 years?!?

The risk assessments on this stuff would cause an actuary to eat his calculator in 2009.  Forget about the fatalities that resulted from just trying to get the damn things off the launch pad.  Watch 20 minutes of any documentary about the early days of NASA and it becomes pretty obvious why the entire room in Mission Control smoked three packs a day… they were freaking scared.  Like shit your pants scared.  All the time!  But they had balls.  The kind of balls necessary to get shit done… even if you are scared out of your mind.

Instead of encouraging the world to face fear we make Nerf footballs, we hold Boy Scout meetings in suburban back yards, and we outlaw everything that is bad for us as we lawyer up.

If Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin wanted to help this country the first thing they should do is tell us to man up.  We will not fail to explore Mars due to a lack of technology, smarts or money but simply because we are scared.  Western society  has bailed on taking the next great leap for mankind because we are a bunch of girls in skirts that don’t want to get our knees scraped or get our hands dirty.

Until this country proves that it has the optimism, the willingness to accept great risk in a cause worthy of it, and the courage to be great then the moon will only drift farther away and Mars will simply be a dot in the sky.

Thanks for coming and suckling on Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
Bearcat

Mini-Rant: Mike Lupica and the U.S. Open stink

I’m too important to run over there and sniff Brett Farve’s jock…
Brett bring his jock to my office for me to sniff in private.

I am jumping in with a Sunday post because frankly I need to let off some steam about one of my all time hates.  I just got done watching the first segment of ESPN’s The Sports Reporters.

I have never liked Mike Lupica.  I hate his column.  I hate his pontification about all things sports.  His attitude is evidence of his short man syndrome and  makes it he me want to punch him in the face.  If there was ever a sports columnist that was begging for Jerk Store admission it would be him.  Let me sum up his perspective regarding the first two and one half rounds of the U.S. Open:  This has been the hardest Open I can remember.  Who ever wins this Open will have played the hardest first 36 holes that I ever saw.  Ten under par does not equal a bad U.S. Open, you don’t need to have the winner at +7 for it to be great. 

I don’t even know where to start…

Lupica is genuflecting to the USGA for a couple reasons.  Bethpage Black is in his backyard.  He, as a New Yorker is not going to admit this that this year’s Open was just not as good as the last time the USGA visited the Long Island Muni… He can’t do it.  His NY FIGMAN personality just can’t.  And secondly as a serious golfer it probably does not help him get those early tee times by trashing the governing body.

But this year’s Open thus far has been a disaster.  The Thursday round was washed out except for about 3 hours worth of soggy play.  The course is so soft that the normal character of a U.S. Open course has been removed.  Players who play the Open should be walking off the course in tears.  Bloody, bruised and broken.  If I wanted to see players hit booming shots with the long irons on to soft greens that welcome seven foot birdies I would tune into the Nationwide Tour.  Players at an Open event should quake at the prospect of hitting a high flying eight iron onto a cement hard green.  Ball marks should not exist at the U.S. Open.  Spinning the ball back?  Not on these turtle backed greens.  Putting the ball into a water hazard… possible or likely.  Fist pumps are for par… not birdie.  Players should be brought to their knees.  They should have uncomfortable press conferences.  They should be considering giving up the game, contemplating retirement.  Golf is an unfair game and the U.S. Open is more than unfair… it’s punitive.

Now the USGA does not control the weather.  It is no more the USGA’s fault than it is Al Roker’s that the skies opened up and it has seen rain of Biblical proportions.  But for Lupica to try to salvage what is obviously a lousy Open is a joke.  Every other tour date has a Sunday winner going low… real low.  Birdies and Eagles sell tickets during the regular PGA season.  But the Open is the toughest test in golf.  And when it is right it provides drama like last year’s Rocco-Tiger epic.  The USGA can’t hit a hole-in-one every year.  But Lupica feels that if he blesses it as being a great tournament that it is… well he is wrong.  This year has been washed away and no amount of silver tongued rehab will bring it back.  Hey, it happens.  Golf is unfair… even to fans.

Thanks for coming and suckling on Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
Bearcat

Mini-Rant: Howard K. Stern

Anna Nicole Smith’s ex-boyfriend Howard K. Stern and a couple of doctors were charged this week with 11 felony counts regarding conspiracy, unlawfully prescribing a controlled substance and prescribing, administering or dispensing a controlled substance to an addict. No Shit. Really? They were providing her with drugs? Get the fuck out. The California DA who is prosecuting these sycophants described it this way: “These individuals repeatedly and excessively furnished thousands of prescription pills to Anna Nicole Smith, often for no legitimate medical purpose,” You read that right thousands. A short read of any news report about these charges goes into amazing detail about the unbelievable volume of drugs that were not only provided to but ingested by the woman. The four members of Motley Crue used few drugs over the course of entire tours compared to the final five weeks of Smith. Seriously… read the reports.

Stern and company used Smith as a cash cow. She was worth billions after her sham marriage to that prune looking oil tycoon and those around her wanted access to the dollars. The best way keep that cash flowing was to keep Smith in a constant state of drug induced stupor. Howard K. Stern looks like a slime ball. From his slick hair and persona to his self righteous attitude about Anna “wishes” he has been, just like everyone else associated with this woman, repulsive. It was obvious from the beginning that he and her handlers allowed this women to live her life in a prescription drug haze that on more than one occasion hung between life and either coma or death. Stern and the doctors most likely are responsible not only for the death of this strange but at one time stunningly beautiful woman but also for her son Daniel. Following her passing it was pretty obvious that Stern thought he has hit the lottery. He made the claim to what he assumed was his daughter and even after the paternity tests showed he was not the father he attempted to gain custody via the courts. Stern and the others will never stand trial for these deaths, nor do I really think that they should…but you have to wonder if they even care. My guess is… They don’t.

Thanks for coming and suckling on Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
Bearcat

Mini-Rant: Ray-Ray gets his

Ray Lewis thought he would be in high demand. He wasn’t. Lewis thought he’d get he would get a ludicrous amount of money to come dancing out of someone else’s tunnel. He didn’t. So he had to crawl back to Baltimore with his tail between his legs. Ray-Ray is a Raven for life, but only because no one else wanted his antics and look at me attitude. As a Steelers fan I hope those hated Baltimore fans never forget that. I surely will not. Every time he comes dancing out of the locker room I am going to be reminded that Ray-Ray is not only a murderer but an unwanted side show in the former murder capitol of the US. We will be forced to watch ESPN talk about his leadership, his drive, his passion for the game and his antics will be sold as entertainment for the masses. But the reality is that he is a snitch (ratting on his homies to avoid his own sentencing), a clown in shoulder pads, who could not take his pre-game Krumping and whoop it up attitude anywhere but where he already was. A bitter pill for Lewis. Who better to have to swallow it? Ray-Ray is a self-styled outlaw who has cultivated a sleazy persona. The saving grace in this is the ultimate teammate and leader who betrayed his team was then forced to watch as the cruelest of mistresses, the free market, betrayed him. You are unwanted Lewis. Why Baltimore was willing to welcome you back after you were spurned from your big pay day courtship is an enigma. Now we will watch as you spin this reversal of fortune as loyalty to the only team that will have you. Christ… you are pathetic.

Please take me back…You know you were always the only one for me baby.

Sorry for the crappy picture we don’t have enough readers to afford Photoshop so you get my crappy attempt to merge Say Anything and Ray-Ray… you get the point right.

Thanks for coming and suckling on Daddy’s Sugar Ball
Bearcat

Mini-Rant: T.O.

So the Cowboys dropped the terminal clubhouse cancer that is T.O. today. Well surprise, surprise…How did that fail to work out? Even after T.O. got a huge payday at the end of last season with a four year contract, he was still unhappy. Jerry Jones who is currently looking for cash to help pay for his 1 billion (as in 1000 millions) dollar cathedral to the Dallas Cowboys football stadium is going to eat nine million dollars and cut Owens. After three seasons, one attempted suicide, several locker room scuffles/meltdowns, tears, loads of bad press, epic failures to reach the playoffs and/or losses in the first round, Jerry “My hot tub is shaped like Texas Stadium…that’s right” Jones had enough. That is too bad because T.O. and Jones deserved each other; apparently there was just not enough TV time to go around between those two. So now what? My guess is either Dan Snyder is already on a private jet ready to genuflect before pancreatic cancer personified and sign him to a multi-year deal or the NFL pooper-scooper that is Al Davis will pick up this wide receiver/turd off the street and sign him to a deal with huge incentives. Either way T.O. will get paid, complain about the lack of respect, and ESPN commentators will discuss how T.O. only wants to play football and that he is misunderstood. Look out here comes the Keyshawn interview now, it will probably be the Sunday Conversation. Congratulations ESPN! I am now changing the channel… Hundred bucks says T.O. wears a red and gold sweater (hint-hint). I have not heard it but I am sure there is some idiot Philly sports radio guy right now doing the drive time with this stupid line idea: “I’m not saying they should do it (long pause) but maybe the Eagles should talk to T.O. (long pause) I’m just throwing it out there. (long pause) McNabb needs a WR threat. I don’t think they have to do it. (another long pause) But they were winning games when he was here… you know he can catch the ball. (long dramatic pause) I don’t think they have to do it…I’m just saying. Call in to let me know what you think. You’re listening to the Sports-X-Man on 1510! Yeah! Baby!” *Multiple cars drive off the highway and several men attempt to light themselves on fire in the Philly Area tonight at 6.*

Thanks for coming and suckling on Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
Bearcat

Mini-Rant: Brett Favre

Brett Favre this week retired. Again. You can read how he is really retired this time from ESPN or you can find Internet articles about how he is two-faced SOB and he will be back (no real media is going to trash this guys shitty reputation). But I am not here to tell you about that crap. I am here to complain about all the shit we are going to have to put up with. First, Brett Favre is not that fucking great. Yeah he played in 291 consecutive games (including playoffs). He played in two Super Bowls and won one. But he should also be remembered by his talent for throwing game killing INTs and TAINTs and for throwing wide receiver killing passes (Here catch this ball that is two feet right and two feet too high while crossing the middle… that linebacker is not going to hit you so hard that he will take more life from you than a four pack a day smoking habit…trust me I’m your veteran QB) Yet, there are going to be at least five teams (Vikings, Chiefs, Lions, Bills, Bears) that will be rumored to be in talks with him this off season. (Lead horse in this race has to be Vikings… right?) Even if he does not come back we are going to have to hear about his “desire to play the game and his ultra competitive nature” daily. ESPN is going to punish you and me with constant updates from Buttfuck, Mississippi after they insert Rachel Nichols up Favre’s ass. Christ, I am ready to cancel my cable already. So lets assume that he does not come back to play. If he some how manages to stay retired (even money says he comes back) how long until he writes his autobiography where he throws every coach, position player, manager and reporter under the bus. It will be their fault that he won only one Super Bowl when he had the talent to win so many, many more. If only those cheap Green Bay execs would have spent the money for true talent to support the Great, HOF, “played the game the right way”, gunslinger, QB. Due date for this toilet paper? Wild Card weekend 2010. Why then? Because we can’t have the playoffs without Brett Favre. Fuck, what else would be talked about if he were not in our lives? And guess what you can expect the next off season if he does sit out the 2009 season. Discussion about how he is only 40 years young, thinks he has something “left in the tank” and rumors of him coming to play for the Vikings, Chiefs, Lions… Fuck. Me.

Thanks for coming and suckling on Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
Bearcat

Mini-Rant: The Jets, Mangini, and Favre

1. You have to believe that Mangini wanted to bench Favre in week 12 or 13 (if not 11) right? He had to consider it. My guess is Jets management said no. (Favre is management)

2. At that point he was fired…he just did not know it yet.

3. Favre cost the Jets a real chance at getting Bill Cowher. I don’t believe the story about Bill not wanting the job after the owner did not take the time to meet with him. I think he asked if Favre was coming back… Jets said “We want him back.” Bill said no thanks.

4. If Roger Clemens was not a child molester I would be lobbying for Favre to inherit the Anti-Christ label. Between the Lions-Gate (which did not get enough scrutiny), his pill popping (forgot about that one right?), his constant on again off again retirement, his uncanny ability to throw wide receive killing pass and game killing INTs and the constant drum beat of his Hall of Fame status by media glory-holers I want to see this guy come back next year only for the hope of the chance to see him paralyzed by a James Harrison sack.

Thanks for coming and suckling on Daddy’s Sugar Ball…
Bearcat