LeBlob James Jams the NBA Publicity Machine


Crybaby LeBron has returned like the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. You cannot keep a perennial from blooming when the season comes around.

After a season when the media has fallen in line with the NBA line, LeBron has been turned into Michael Jordan and Wilt Chamberlain with a halo.

So, when the belligerent superstar decides to complain that he wants more, the entire cast of characters is shocked. What more can he expect?

General Manager Danny Ainge of the Celtics watched LeBron knock down a player half his size, Jason Terry, in a recent game and escape with nary a blood blister on his dirty hands.

And, when Ainge pointed out that Emperor LeBron is not wearing any clothes, the chief bottle washer of the NBA, Pat Riley, told him impolitely to shut up.

So at a time when the NBA publicity machine is building him up as the man who can finally help Clarence win his angel wings, LeBron would rather do the Harlem Shuffle with Beelzebub, bub.

Christmas has come every day this season for LeBron, but he’d rather complain that the NBA is his April Fool. It will be a hard sell to continue the fraud that LeBron is a swell guy after he celebrates Benedict Arnold’s birthday.

The Blob that ate Cleveland has nothing on the Blob that is the egomaniac named LeBlob. He is swallowing up goodwill faster than you can say Most Valuable Player.



Athletes Who Are Gay for Pay


Rumors circulate that an active gay player will come charging out of his closet in the NFL locker room. He cannot be penalized with a charging call because this is not the NHL.

We presume that an active player may be more interesting than a passive gay player coming out.

If the man in question is a footballer, then we cannot say definitively that he is either a catcher or pitcher.

Gay players usually wait till their playing days are over before they play the field in the media.

Some experts insist this announcement of sexuality will be a brave act, while others may think being gay for pay is actually a fairly calculated arrangement.

We cannot say whether the player will be a top man or a bottom man, in terms of his position in the lineup. This player will not appear in any lineup, not being in MLB.

He won’t be a size queen playing with big balls as if he were in the NBA, where playing down low is an art form.

He won’t be behind the plate or even behind the candelabra. He won’t be wearing a facemask, nor a face guard.

We aren’t sure whether he will be fluent in Greek or French.

For our part, we keep wondering how many times a player has been asked if he is married or single. Why would anyone care what the proclivities of the athlete may be?

Yet, this issue continues to dominate the media instead of questions about the quality of the player’s game.


There are always those who will use their position as a professional athlete as a bully pulpit, ostensibly to further along a supported issue.

Yet, we are left with the nagging feeling that the main reason to come out on any issue is to gain that attention leading to endorsements, pay raises, or just plain spotlight hugging.




David Ortiz Called ‘Footsie Version of Typhoid Mary’ by Podiatrists


Flat feet have become an epidemic in Boston. Top medical experts in Boston have discovered a link in the rash of foot injuries in the town’s sports figures.

For months the news has been disheartening. David Ortiz, DH and superstar of the Red Sox, has been suffering from terminal plantar fasciitis, or some other unknown tropic foot in mouth disease.

As a result, for months Boston sports fans have followed the travails of Ortiz, but never suspected he was the Typhoid Mary of the Boston sports world.

It appears that the Ortiz heel condition is contagious. One podiatrist postulated that Big Papi slipped on a banana peel as a child, which has started this chain reaction.

Bostonians understood and expected the most susceptible member of the Red Sox was bound to come down with a copycat version. And, sure enough, over the weekend, Jacoby Ellsbury developed” jammed heel,” according to Red Sox manager John Farrell.

After shattered ribs and collapsed shoulders, Ellsbury was doomed to come down with a foot disease.

Permutations of the Ortiz ball and heel problems immediately spread to one of his closest friends on the Boston sports scene. After having a number of maladies this week, Kevin Garnett of the Boston Celtics has discovered his foot hurts too.

MRI and sundry tests will ensue.

Of course, when teammate Courtney Lee expressed pain in the ankle, he gave the Celtics a bad case of twisted nerve. The team has gone on to lose four in a row without being able to run up and down the court. They are no longer considered footloose and fancy free.

Some fear that this condition may also hit the Bruins and Patriots.

Some wags believe that Coach Bill Belichick sent Wes Welker packing after he remembered the foot fetish jokes that the slot receiver spoke about Rex Ryan two seasons ago.

Feats of clay now dominate the Boston sports scene.


Jacoby Ellsbury: No Longer the Jesse James of Base Stealing


Like a gunfighter in the Old West who has lost his nerve, Jacoby Ellsbury is in deep trouble.

After losing a season while sliding into second base and dislocating his shoulder, Ellsbury has returned wiser and more unlikely to slide anywhere—except maybe into oblivion.

Already living with the rap that he is gutless and listening to the evil demon Scott Boras on his shoulder, the Red Sox centerfielder is in his most pressurized contract year. If he doesn’t make it now, he will be taking the A train to Palookaville.

In spring training of 2013, Ellsbury has not yet stolen a base.

This is disconcerting situation for the Jesse James of base robbing. He may be done in by some sniveling little coward before the season ends if he is all done with his life of base path crime.

Speaking of Ben Cherington, Sox general manager and man with more nerves in his teeth than in his gut, the Sox big man faces the conundrum of Jackie Bradley, Jr., another Boras client.

If they play him now, they will lose a year on the other end.  The Sox know well that Boras will sweep Bradley out of Boston faster than you can say, “Jacoby who?”

For a team that does not like to deal with Scott Boras, the Red Sox seem stuck between a rock and a green monster.

The hired gun emeritus of agents has a cadre of young guns on his client list, and they admire the cash withdrawals the Moriarty of baseball can mastermind.

Alas, the Red Sox have no Lone Ranger on their ownership of fat cats. There is not even a Scarlet Pimpernel to rescue the fans before they are held up for ticket prices out of their means.

Jacoby Ellsbury may be a reformed base stealer from now on. His days of the heist will soon be past the statute of limitations.

Belichick’s Latest Spying Scandal on Patriots’ Wives


With the accusation by former Patriot Ted Johnson in regard to the wife of Vince Wilfork, informants now reveal that all Coach Bill Belichick’s personnel decisions are based on the players’ wives.

Ted Johnson, now a Houston Texan analyst and beauty judge, complained about Wilfork’s wife, though he later apologized for wearing rose-colored glasses.

This incident has revealed the tip of the iceberg as far as the pulchritude of Patriot player wives.

Yes, Wes Welker was allowed to walk because Belichick did not like what Mrs. Welker said about Ray Lewis earlier in the season. Her subsequent apology was presumed to be too little too late.

Lately Kyle Arrington’s wife has come under scrutiny from Belichick. After giving birth to a son, she has reportedly run Arrington to a frazzle with late night feedings. Belichick re-signed Arrington last week, but with a proviso that his wife had to shape up.

The only player whose wife seems to have won the Belichick beauty contest is Giselle Bundchen, wife of Tom Brady.

Skeptics claim she has won the beauty prize because she makes more money every year in modeling than all the players who sack Tom Brady combined.

In fact, she can sack Tom Brady every night to prove her value and beauty.

Patriot wives had long suspected that ‘Spygate’ referred to camera surveillance the Patriot coach has put on them at every game. He raised issue with players often at half-time of games when he waved photos of wives not paying attention to the defensive scheme.

Belichick reportedly approved owner Robert Kraft’s new young actress girlfriend after inspecting photos taken surreptitiously at practice.

Players who are unmarried are left to the supervision of Offensive Coordinator Josh McDaniels and his cameramen.

Red Sox Biggest Decision Looms


Of all the controversies engulfing the Red Sox, none is more pressing than the identity of the guy who will sit in the press box this season before the park microphone.

Yes, the Red Sox front office (the same one that cannot make a decision on whether to play Jackie Bradley, Jr. or whether to sign Mike Napoli to life insurance) is now in the throes of a major paralysis on another issue.

Who will be the Red Sox public address announcer?

Larry Lucchino has orchestrated a parade of voices, tryouts, swimsuit competitions, and sundry criminal background checks. Now the Sox are in a state of gastroparesis.

The Red Sox cannot be too careful what person reads the names of the players coming up to bat at Fenway Park.

This has turned into a circus on the order of 76 trombones in the big parade. It has caused more groaning than heard at the recent St. Patrick’s Day Political Hack Breakfast in South Boston.

Public relations guru Dr. Charles Steinberg, responsible for ‘Fanfare for a Floundering Fan’ decision with music by John Williams at the 100th Fenway anniversary party, is now the eye of the storm over the PA announcer decision.

A bunch of voices was invited to tryout their echoing vibrato at Fenway all last season. They came and went with the alacrity of a budget crisis.

Reports started circulating this week that the job is so big that three men may have to share the onerous task of pronouncing “Saltalamacchia.”

Steinberg recently said that winner of this contest should be “the color of Fenway.”  Insiders immediately knew that Kermit the Frog was the frontrunner.

While the position of “voice of the Red Sox” burns, the Red Sox brass is mostly fiddling and diddling away.

Tom Brady Meets Donnie Darko


BradyPullsRabbitWith Wes Welker moving to Denver, Tom Brady must be lonely without his friend.

So, it comes as no surprise that Tom has filmed some commercials for Unreal candy with the Easter Bunny.

Brady has done some off-beat commercials for the candy product in the previous season, but his hanging out with a large white rabbit starts to look disturbing.

We can only tell people that any similarity between Tom Brady and Donnie Darko is strictly coincidental.

However, having a demonic large white rabbit show up on the heels of Welker’s departure may be karma gone mad.

We wonder if any other people in the Brady household can see the rabbit when Tom animated speaks to it. If things for the Patriots could get any worse, we are not sure how they could top Tom Brady taking a white rabbit out to his Brentwood backyard and teaching him how to celebrate a touchdown.

Not since Elwood P. Dowd was served commitment papers for talking to a giant white rabbit named Harvey have we seen such a case for the men in the white coats.

Worse yet, Tom nearly decapitates the Easter Bunny in another commercial when he tries to force a small Patriots helmet down on the rabbit’s head. The size of the helmet tells us that it is a Welker model.

Obviously there is no Patriot who would fit into that white rabbit fur costume, especially since both Welker and Danny Woodhead have moved on to other teams. They were the only Patriots who could stuff themselves into a white rabbit costume.

We hope Tom Brady finds the therapy he needs before the next season begins.



BigFoot LeBron Shuts Up Big Mouth Jason Terry


When Gigantopithecus of the NBA knocks down little Cro-Magnon man, you do not have a story. You have a confirmation of the character of LeBron James as one-man egomaniacal wrecking crew.

James delivered a major dunk, and Jason Terry of the Celtics was the man in the painted walkway. Alas, in the NBA pedestrians do not have the right of way when a Mac truck comes barreling down the highway and into the passing lane.

What made the monster dunk from the monstrous LeBron all the more vile was his comment after the game that he regarded this as one of his sweeter dunks.

This apparently was retaliation against the ever-loquacious JET whose high-flying antics have not met with approval from the man who determined he would win seven titles over the next few years.

Not since we lost our plain donut in a hot cup of coffee has there been a dunk so ill-conceived.

Fans of the reform movement to turn LeBron into a wonderful NBA superstar of the first magnitude may have had a subtle setback here. The real LeBron came out of the woodwork, and his mother Gloria was nowhere to be seen.

Since the beleaguered and overplaying Celtics are a mere shadow of the golden days when they had a real Big Three in their prime, LeBron’s gloating seems a bit misplaced.

As for Terry, his big mouth was shut by the viral tweets and twits on YouTube that showed him flat as a pancake.

As for the false bravado of a big man, LeBron James complained that he does not like players who talk too much. This is what passes as self-loathing in the NBA.

Red Sox Next on List of Free Agent Turncoats, Just Ask Jacoby Ellsbury


Take a number, Jacoby Ellsbury.   Next one in the bakery line to leave Boston is the Red Sox representative.

In the matter of a year or so, New England sports fans have been shot full of more holes than the proverbial donut at the bakery.

First, Tim Thomas of the Boston Bruins, agitated by media and fan criticisms of his odd political decisions, chose to do one better than sign with another team. He simply took a leave-of-absence and moved his family to Colorado in the dark of night.

Next, Ray Allen of the Boston Celtics, infuriated by the antics and snubs of Rajon Rondo, turned down twice as much money with the Celtics to go sit on the bench in Miami (but move more steadily to another NBA championship).

This week Wes Welker, formerly of the New England Patriots, took his talents to Mile High in Denver. There he could play with the other QB legend of his generation. Peyton Manning may be the best antidote to Tom Brady.

Only one team in Boston still awaits their major defection. Yes, Red Sox fans, your turn comes next.

We already know the name of the player who shall flee the city with animosity and nonchalance in equal dollops.

The next turncoat and free agent will be Red Sox centerfielder Jacoby Ellsbury.

There is no suspense and no reason for a great hue and cry. We know he is going, and it is a matter of when. Perhaps the team will simply trade him away before the August deadline.

Whatever happens and however it happens, this will mean Boston shall suffer the departure of a major star from each of its teams, all within a year or so.

Well, this is called poetic justice. All four teams won their sport championships within the past decade. It seems only fair that Boston fans reap the wind after so many victories.



Clothes Break the Man; Hanging Up That Welker Jersey


For those whose home has foreclosed and whose stock market investments have plummeted over a decade, the worst investment news came this week.

Your clothing is now trash.

You may be wearing a jersey that makes you a laughstock and a hat that is anachronistic. Fortunately, your underwear remains top drawer.

Wes Welker apparel at the local shopping mall’s sports shop has gone from designer chic to remainder table and seconds rack.

If you wear the even-more popular “Welkah!” hat that played on the New England accent, you may be hard-pressed to hear the name in the Rocky Mountain high crowd. Worse yet, wearing “Welkah” on your back makes you a target of Peyton Manning’s fans.

Thousands of young fans are now relegating their Welker jersey to the attic of memories, as fashion sense dictates that they find a larger size shirt to fit both their growing body and the name “Amendolah,” which only vaguely rhymes with Welkah.

We can only pray that Amendola does not go on the dole.

Pint-sized fans that prefer the cut-off look also found their Welker shirts priced down. The only value lower this week is that Woodhead helmet you always prized for its midget apparel appeal.

Earlier in the winter, fans of Boston sports breathed a sigh of relief when their Kevin Garnett jersey #5 was not rendered extinct by KG waiving his no-trade clause.

But at the rate Boston players are leaving town, many fashionistas could be naked by summer.

Remember, sports fans, no matter how bad your fashion sense has become, it could have been worse. You could have had your custom-made Patriots Welker/Woodhead/Chung gear in pink.


Life Without Welker Muddles On for the Patriots


Now that Wes Welker won’t be carrying Tom Brady next season, we may be looking at the biggest disaster since the sinking of the Titanic.

For six years Tom Brady has been on the downslide. Time after time he could not find any other receivers. He would throw passes into the ground, over the head, between the numbers of players who could not handle his errant throws.

So, every third pass of his game was to Wes Welker. Only in notable circumstances did Welker drop the ball. Most of the time he caught the circus style “Hail Marys” of the franchise QB.

We may be well within our rights to fear the world of the Patriots without Wes Welker.

What will Bill Belichick do now that he no longer has Wes Welker to kick around? The man in the gray hoodie used to cut down players like Ty Law, Richard Seymour, and Asante Samuel, but the best fun Belichick ever had was his regular chess games with Wes.

Night after night Wes Welker showed up at Belichick’s office and demanded another game of chess. The only way for Welker to keep his job was to hold Belichick at bay on the chessboard.

Welker might castle his way to success for six seasons, but his Queen, Tom Brady, was busy building a real castle in Brentwood, California, for the day when Belichick cried out, “Checkmate.”

However, as this season ended, Wes regained his full head of hair, but lost his knight protector when Tom Brady took less money and did not guarantee Welker’s contract.

We never realized the seventh seal was on Welker’s deal with the Patriots and Beelzebub Belichick.

We do know that Brady has promised Welker a job as Gatekeeper of the Moat when football days are over. What are friends for?

Time To Fire Bill Belichick?


Bill Belichick hates Wes Welker.

You cannot deny it, Bill. The calculated plot to rid himself of a star who did not meet the cookie cutter mold that Belichick has created for his winning teams.

Welker had a public sense of humor. It turns out to be gallows humor because it has led Welker out of town, personally tarred and feathered with the worst offer ever made to a NFL receiver.

Leading the league all-time in catches from the all-star Tom Brady is no mean feat. Apparently, Coach Belichick thinks Tom can make anyone a star slot receiver.

Belichick is playing the slots with the fans’ quarter—when two bits won’t buy team loyalty.


You may have noticed that “won’t” contains “won,” which is past tense, Mr. Belichick. Shall you continue to win after dispatching your hard-playing star?


The legend that all NFL players will kill (or at least take a smaller paycheck) to play for the vaunted Belichick Genius may now be put to rest.


If your reputation starts to precede you, like a stench of death, it may be that necrosis is at the heart of your future.


If Bill Belichick wants to look fashionable on the sidelines of every game, perhaps he should pick up the ultimate hood with its scythe. Belichick has become the Patriot Grim Reaper, sending players to their fates without mercy.


A few players like Tom Brady will play chess with Belichick every night to extend his future another season, but Igmar Bergman’s Seventh Seal teaches us that the Grim Reaper isn’t to be trusted.


Ray Allen & Wes Welker Hightail It Out of New England


Like Ray Allen of the Celtics, Wes Welker of the Patriots took the first stagecoach out of Dodge.

Celtics coach Doc Rivers said, “Say it ain’t so, Wes.” He too saw the parallel of a major star on a successful team choosing to leave town.

Ray Allen took less money with the Miami Heat than was offered by the Celtics, so agitated was he with the home treatment.

Now history has repeated itself. Wes Welker, prolific receiver and best buddy of Tom Brady, felt mild disdain and translated it into a short career for middling dollars in Denver.

Imagine how insulting the Patriot offer must have been.

Welker had been benched for making jokes about Rex Ryan, and overlooked by offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels in favor of his hand-picked sweetie-pies.

So, the crafty owners of the Patriots will face the music with fans who ask why.

The genius coach of the Patriots in whom all true believers follow without question will be asked repeatedly why he hated Wes Welker.

Tom Brady who restructured his contract to insure signing good, reliable players must ask himself if he has been duped by the “friendly” owners who treat him like one of the family.

If this is All in the Family treatment, then Brady may want to find another bunch.

Fans will not soon forget this travesty of Patriotic vitriol. Welker was offered peanuts, and not a few minutes later the Patriots gave Danny Amendola a five-year, $30million contract.


A certain contingent will lump Welker and Ray Allen into the same barrel as rotten apples for a decade to come. Eventually the prism of history will shine its light into the crevices of corrupt motives.

Blame will hang in the air for some time to come. But, there is no honor among the Patriot leadership.

Welker Named Pope of Gillette Stadium


Like the poster of Uncle Sam pointing out at you, saying: “I want you,” for service to the country, Patriots owner Robert Kraft told media, “We want Wes.”  Yes, they really do.

Kraft hopes Welker will remain a Patriot for life.  It looks like Wes’s life is over.

It also sounds like they also like Sally Field. It sounds a little much a little too late.

The Patriots may be positioning themselves for a public relations disaster the likes of which they have not felt in a decade.

After years of treating Welker like a junkyard dog, feeding him millions of dollars in scraps, the dog may be ready to bite back on the Kraft family.

Media sources have been reporting Welker has “mild disdain” for Bill Belichick. After being benched, overlooked, humiliated, and tagged, what could be mild?

Mild disdain is what we in the language business call an oxymoron. This is not something you would expect to find in the intelligent media.

You likely encountered oxymoron when coaches talk about “football intelligence.” The red flag ought to go up.  It means the player cannot balance a checkbook.

Coach Belichick is the master of “tough love.” He seems to use it on Welker more than anyone else on his roster. The oxymoron may have now backfired.

So, now tough love and mild disdain has met football intelligence, the fans may be facing the ultimate oxymoron: losing winners.

Forget turning to Rome for the white smoke/black smoke signals, the media will be watching the chimney over Gillette Stadium for word on whether the Patriots have made the smart choice.

Wes is trying on robes and miter hat as his election as pope of Gillette Stadium is on hold.

Nostradamus Forgot to Give the Red Sox a Quatrain



Red Sox fans had better prepare for extreme disappointment this upcoming season.

We cannot even provide a few pathetic rhymes for this peek into the future, though we looked deeply into our dog-earred copy of the prophecies of Nostradamus.

The powers that be have now rolled the dice on their cockamamie Pollyanna attitudes, and the rest as they say will be skirting disaster.

Let us count the ways the Sox have thrown fans off the bridge for the year-to-come.

The ownership invested millions in David Ortiz whose career may be at a crossroads between an Achilles heel and plantar fasciitis.

The powerful limited partnership decided to keep Jacoby Ellsbury one more year before he bails and leaves them with the taste of ashes. Yet, Ellsbury is notoriously fragile, sort of like one of the glass menagerie. Look for a broken unicorn around midseason.

The front office re-enlisted John Lackey for another season when all his cohorts were sent packing for their bad attitudes. The Sox have apparently given him a magic elixir to alter his personality. A magic bullet might have been a better choice.

Money was no object this season, except when it came to signing a big star. The Sox spent star money on character actors like Johnny Gomes and Shane Victorino. They may pan out, or they may just be panned.

The Sox signed J.D. Drew’s younger brother, Stephen, hoping he is more like Sherlock and less like Mycroft.

And Mike Napoli will do his best Dick Stuart imitation. The Sox kept Alfredo Aceves on the roster because someone likes to see “Satan in his eyes.”

As if adding insult to injury were merely icing on the cake, the heralded prospect Jose Iglesias was hung out to dry after putting all the wet laundry in his basket last season.

The team put all its razz-matazz into Will Middlebrooks, whose wrists are about as thin in strength as a #2 pencil, and they predict a home run rampage on the order of Gary Geiger.

This spring is in full bloom, and the smell of victory may be cross-pollinated with the agony of defeat. The Red Sox will be on a voyage to where no man may return.