Sports’ biggest blockheads exposed

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Mike Parente, GoLocalProv Sports Editor

Slaving over a topic I’m way too qualified to discuss made me dislike the following personalities even more than I originally thought.

Trying to come up with this list of sports’ biggest blockheads – since this is a family website, I couldn’t use any of the words I wanted to – turned out to be an exhausting exercise in futility because the real blockheads are you, the reader, for not stopping after the first paragraph, and me for thinking I could consolidate all my angst into one submission.

The problem is my definition of a blockhead (or a jackass, an oaf, or a simpleton, depending on your preference) differs from that of the general public. I don’t absolve steroid users, adulterers and convicted felons of their wrongdoings, but I do think they’re easy targets on various lists of this nature, which is why I took a different approach.

My constant pursuit of individuality spawned what might ultimately be considered the most idiotic lists of idiots in professional sports. The irony is delicious, isn’t it?

In no particular order:

Phil Mickelson, professional golfer

What, no Tigers Woods?

Sorry, but Mickelson stuffing his Pillsbury body into medium-sized polo shirts with no shame whatsoever is far more offensive than Tiger’s inability to keep his zipper upright.

Ninety percent of marriages involving professional athletes are nothing more than lucrative business arrangements anyway, so I have little sympathy for Tiger’s ex-wife considering she walked away with $750 million.

Tiger’s worst crime is using his dead father’s voice out of context in a grossly self-serving Nike ad. Mickelson’s worst crime is going for seconds. His arms on Sunday afternoon at Augusta look like cake batter oozing out of a nylon sock.

By all accounts, Phil is a great guy, and I respect his commitment to his family in lieu of Tiger’s perpetual pursuit of three-way sex and debauchery, but he should invest some of his winnings in a full-length mirror. The advent of HDTV only heightens the sense of urgency.

Erin Andrews, ESPN sideline reporter

Plenty of women have thrived in the sports’ journalism field without squeezing their breasts together on national TV.

Andrews isn’t one of them.

She demands respect for her reporting “skills” and asks not to be objectified sexually, yet appears on “Dancing With The Stars” rolling around on a bed in a translucent skirt while shacking up with her co-star off the camera in one of the worst-kept secrets since Mark McGwire admitted he used steroids.

Has Andrews been unfairly criticized at times? Sure. She also got filmed in her hotel room by a peeping Tom while ironing her clothes naked (clearly, much more dangerous for men than women) and has been on the receiving end of unsolicited death threats.

Still, like any public figure, Andrews is fair game regardless of the injustices in her life, and the bottom line is she – along with countless other sideline “reporters” who serve primarily as eye candy – are sending the wrong message to aspiring female journalists.

You can’t wholeheartedly accept awards from Playboy magazine on a Tuesday and demand equality on Friday. I have little use for sideline reporters as it is (and, trust me, the guys are just as bad as the women), so my advice to Andrews is pick a road and travel it – preferably one leading away from my television screen.

Paul Pierce, Boston Celtics forward

Does anyone else see the irony in one of the NBA’s biggest frauds calling himself “The Truth?” Watch any Celtics’ game and within three, maybe five, minutes it’s inevitable Pierce will flop like a displaced trout.

His jackassery reached an all-time low two years ago in Game 1 of the NBA Finals when he hit the deck with an apparent knee injury looking as if he’d been shot from the clock tower by Lee Harvey Oswald. Less than three minutes after being escorted to the locker room in a wheelchair, Pierce reemerged from the tunnel with the “Rocky” theme song blaring from the speakers (sure, why the hell not?) and buried back-to-back 3-pointers to finish off the Lakers.

His explanation?

“I think God sent this angel down and said, ‘Hey, you’re going to be alright.”

Unless he had three grand on the Celtics, I’m sure God had other priorities.

Next to teammate Kevin Garnett, Pierce is the NBA’s Best Supporting Actress. You’d have to be a bigger jackass to ignore “The Truth.”

Joba Chamberlain, New York Yankees pitcher

This isn’t a weak attempt at objectivity; I genuinely dislike this guy.

Chamberlain earned $309,000 in 2008, yet couldn’t slip his mother a few Benjamins so she wouldn’t have to sell crystal meth outside of her trailer home in Nebraska.

Proving the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Joba got bagged for a DUI during that same offseason while speeding on the highway with an open beer can (probably Pabst Blue Ribbon) in the front seat. If he were half as good at walking a straight line as he is at walking batters out of the bullpen, he probably could’ve avoided probation.

Joba’s worst offense, however, is the fact he’s terrible at his job. Switched from reliever to starter to reliever again – all within the past three years – Chamberlain has been the Yankees’ most enigmatic failure, which says a lot considering they still pay A.J. Burnett to lose every fifth day. And in the rare event he pitches a clean inning of relief, he pumps his fist like he’s auditioning for “Jersey Shore.”

What Joba fails to realize is being a pompous oaf is only funny if you’re consistently good at what you do. That’s why I find A-Rod hilarious.

Urban Meyer, University of Florida football coach

My other pet peeve, aside from athletes who fail miserably on a consistent basis, is coaches who mistake their authority on the field of play for the right to bully those they consider beneath them.

Four months ago, Meyer confronted an Orlando Sentinel reporter based on a comment one of his own players made about former Gators quarterback Tim Tebow.

While comparing quarterback John Brantley to Tebow, Florida receiver Deonte Thompson said Brantley does everything in rhythm “like a real quarterback,” as opposed to Tebow’s unpredictable style. Instead of confronting his own player for his horrific choice of words, Meyer took the easy way out and attacked the reporter, who he knew wouldn’t fight back.

This is what bullies do. Furthermore, it’s another example of the long-standing tradition of coaches failing to hold their student-athletes accountable for their own actions (or words). This is why a large percentage of them go on to become spoiled brats in the pros; they learn at an early age that as long as they can run a 4.24 40 or pull down 15 rebounds a game, there will always be someone there to clean up their mess.

I long for the days of former Boston Globe reporter Will McDonough, who knocked Patriots’ cornerback Raymond Clayborn on his ass after Clayborn poked him in the eye. The minute Meyer said, “If that was my son, we’d be going at it right now,” this reporter should’ve kneed him in the marbles.

That’s the only way to reason with a bully.

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