An article in today’s New York Times (sidebar: where Ladies BFFs and all around awesome dudes Enrico and Matt P of The 700 Level are holding down the fort this week at the Fifth Down blog) talks about the recruiting challenges faced by nonrevenue athletes and coaches.
It’s an enlightening read; the glamour sports, basketball and football, have changed the college sports recruiting landscape and now even nonrevenue athletes are approaching the process as aggressively a linebacker or a power forward would.
And now for something completely different: Hot shotputters.
NOM NOM NOM!
Um, I live 15 minutes from UDel. I think I need to start going to track and field events. You know, to see how UDel’s spending their scholarshop money.
So I took a break from my thrillicious morning (read: applying for middle management jobs at Tire Kingdom) to check out the The Game Plan, the latest escapee from the Disney DVD vault, starring The “Dwayne Johnson” Rock. Mr. Rock plays Joe Kingman, the QB of the Boston Rebels who loves himself, football, and Elvis—in that order—although his Elvis worship is perhaps based on their mutual nickname, “The King”. The Rebels have plowed through their opponents to reach the playoffs of the Unnamed-For-Copyright-Reasons football league and Joe is a big part of their success, mainly because he refuses to pass to his teammates in favor of running in all of the touchdowns himself.*
It just takes one glance at the suitcase-toting pixie beside him on the DVD case, and we can surmise that things are going to change for Joe**, that he won’t be spending many more evenings alone, watching and re-watching Sportcenter segments about himself (which is how I imagine Terrell Owens spends his free time).
The night after a party involving Russian models and, um, teammates leaving early to get home to their families (Right, like you expected Playmakers), Joe answers a knock at his door and learns that the girl standing in the hall is the result of one of his, um, naked bootlegs. Now before you spew some Tom Brady/Matt Leinart-style snark, allow me to point out that Joe was married to her mother, Sarah, and they were divorced before she knew she’d been quarterback sneaked. And she’s now off providing fresh drinking water to the drought-ravaged children of the Sudan***, so don’t hate. Continue reading →
For the first time since 1996 the University of Iowa won the National Duals. At this meet, there were D-I, D-II, D-III, NAIA, NJCAA, and NCWA schools for a total of 80 teams. On Saturday, they had 18 mats going all day. Since I wangled myself a press pass, I got to be right down in the action. It was sensory overload. I have never in my life been around so many completely jacked guys. I’ve also never felt more Brobdingnagian. Wrestlers tend to run on the…short side. Wading through the crowds, I was like Godzilla attacking Toyko. Tiny muscular men were bouncing off me every which way. I’m pretty sure there are still a couple 125-lb wrestlers stuck to my shoe.
Michigan State and Boston College both tried their damnedest to lose this game. 7 turnovers in all, 5 by Michigan State. And yet, at the end, the Spartans had a real shot to win it. They kind of pissed it down their legs, though, with “tricky” plays like the QB running backwards for 12 yards on a 4th and inches instead of handing the ball to the damn fullback and punching it through. Big Ten Bowl record: 1-1. Sigh.
In part 2 of what is sure to become a regular series here at Ladies where I ogle barely-legal football players (seriously, these fellas are born in ’87 and ’88), I’d like to share with you the festivities from the Champs Sports Bowl Kickoff Luncheon. Following the Quiche Course, Spartan freshman linebacker Jon Misch played the piano. I don’t recognize the piece; I’m assuming it was written by some gentleman who wore a powdered wig at one time or another.
So, I’m suddenly very familiar with Dan LeFevour. Hello you. I’m sorry your second-half surge fell short and you lost to Purdue on a last-second field goal. But you still threw for almost 300 yards and had 4 touchdowns. And you’re hot. Here’s my tribute to Mr. LeFevour. Because I’ve got a fever and the only prescription is…more LeFevour.