Arsene Wenger & Arsenal: An untenable relationship

As I sit down to write about Arsene Wenger and this struggling Arsenal side, I find myself immediately on eggshells. I feel like before I even try to be critical of the tenured Arsenal manager, I have to throw out a lengthy disclaimer about how great he's been and how much I love cuddling with his effigy in my bedroom to allow myself the space to write about him without causing a riot amongst Arsenal fans. We're a bit touchy about Arsene, eh? There's a word I love to use for a situation like this, where people are abnormally and irrationally sensitive about something and it causes them to become emotionally overworked: Butthurt. That's right, we're too easily butthurt when it comes to Arsene Wenger. It's like the success he's brought the club and the prestige and sustainability he's fostered for Arsenal excuse him from honest, rational critique. But it shouldn't be one way or another: It shouldn't be so extreme. You can critique the manager without "forgetting the past," and you can honor his contributions to the club by putting his current struggles in perspective. That's what a rational writer and reader would do, and, well shit, we're Arsenal fans, we're supposed to be the rational ones (insert fans of other clubs getting butthurt here).

So instead of writing a disclaimer worthy of the MPAA (although isn't the above technically a disclaimer? Hmm ...), I'm just going to write about Arsene Wenger and Arsenal without letting myself get emotionally unstable. Yes, all hail Hypnotoad Wenger, etc etc. But let's just be reasonable for a day. Just one day. That's all I ask. This is not what any of us expected going into the season, even after the late transfer dealings this summer left the club with a stumbling start. The team pulled itself together admirably and started rattling off wins. It seemed like things were headed in the right direction. So what went wrong?

It'd be easy to blame injuries, or youth, or inconsistency, or whatever buzzword is fluttering through the Arsenal pressers this particular week. But those are all symptoms of a deeper disease. Arsene Wenger has lost the locker room. It's a common phrase in American sports that rarely pops up in the world of international football: "Lost the locker room." But when I watch this team, this frustrated, hangdog team, I see a team that's lost the motivation to be great, and that comes from the manager. That comes from the persistent belief that fourth place is a trophy worth celebrating and admiring. Fourth place is admirable, especially when you accomplish it (or above) consistently over more than a decade, but it can't replace the ultimate goal to win the league.

That's the thing about sports: There are supposed to be ups and downs.

If you have the financial clout and the technical system to stay highly-competitive year after year, then bravo, you've accomplished something that very few teams are capable of accomplishing. But, and it's a big but(hurt), winning a championship is worth much more than consistent top-tier mediocrity (sort of an oxymoron, but Arsenal fans know exactly what I'm talking about). Taking the risk to pursue a championship, knowing that there may be an inverse effect after a championship where the club has to regroup and recover, should be seriously considered by the board and the manager. And you could make the argument Wenger tried that after dismantling the Invincibles squad and trying to restock his team with young starlets who would bring the club back to glory. But that didn't work, and it continues to fail because of a deep-rooted lack of diversity and veteran leadership in the first team that stems from five years of transfer miscues by the manager.

This isn't a complete team. There are massive gaps in multiple areas of the club, areas that Wenger used to be flush with: Strikers, veteran stars, smart & sturdy defenders. And those gaps frustrate not only the fans, but also the players. There's no one to help guide the youngsters to greatness, the way Cesc Fabregas was nurtured by some of the world's best before earning the starting mantle. There's no one to hold them accountable other than the manager. And while Wenger has tried valiantly to bring in more veteran leadership to the club and further accountability from within the player ranks, there isn't a culture to match the desire (not to mention his stubbornness to continue playing certain "favorites" within the club). If I worked in an office, and it was filled with a bunch of inexperienced co-workers, or co-workers who didn't have the right skills to be successful, and there was no one but the boss to keep everyone in line, there's a damn good chance that company would suffocate and die, because you need layers to a business, just like you need layers to a starting XI.

And that squad construction has left a few good workers, surrounded by people who aren't ready or don't have the proper tools, all frustrated and bickering throughout a match. When I watch Arsenal play, I see a team that is divided. I see Robin Van Persie and Mikel Arteta alone in attack. I see Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain thriving despite the pressure and the system and still think to myself: He could really use a teacher, a mentor. I see Alex Song alone and stuck between his best position (deep-lying defensive midfielder) and his personal frustration with a toothless attack. And Song's been distributing the ball beautifully through the middle too in January and February! He's been an absolute killer in attack, but why is he even there? Because there aren't any better options. I see a defense that, on paper, should be world class, but is continually beat by the same basic tactics and is left scratching their heads and shouting at one another with misguided anger.

That anger is misguided because they can't go storm the sideline and shout at the manager, but they also don't have the freedom and flexibility tactically to adjust and to make themselves structurally better on the fly. Meanwhile, the bench is riddled with pissed off veterans who were brought in specifically to add leadership and guidance for the "talented youngsters," who are now openly bitching about a lack of playing time and undermining the whole reason they were purchased. I don't blame them either. We're not getting the results, so why are we still sending out the same squad & formation? Part of it is that the veterans on the bench aren't any better than what's out there, so Wenger's stuck (by his own hand, mind you) with a tired, exacerbated, and over-extended squad that can't find a secondary attack outside of RVP and can't defend simple long-ball tactics from the opposition.

It all comes back to Wenger. I have the utmost respect and admiration for him (dammit, I'm already prepping a disclaimer! Stop it, Erik!), but when you lose your locker room, when the players just don't want to play for you anymore, the situation becomes untenable. Arsenal and Arsene Wenger are like a bitter old couple, they feel like they've invested too much to break up, but they're just not right for each other anymore. Everyone knows it, hell, even they probably know it, but there's this sticky familiarity that forces a bad situation to persist. I think Arsene Wenger could probably go to another club and succeed immediately, and I'm sure if he takes over the France national job one day, they'll play the best football they've played in years, but the Arsenal team is stagnant and brooding, the fans are understandably-frustrated (and don't give me that "you're spoiled" shit, we can be critical of the present and still acknowledge and respect the past), and the manager's great legacy is being tarnished because no one's willing to walk away.

Wenger has set up this club for sustained success, and he's done it all with limited resources and a charge from the board to cut costs and help fund the new stadium, and I would shake his hand and ask for a photo if I ever saw him in person (let's get honest, I'd weep like a 14-year-old at a Lady Gaga concert), but Arsene Wenger isn't Arsenal, he's a part of it, for sure, but he's not the club itself, and both he and the club can survive (and even thrive) without each other. It just takes a little guts to say, "This isn't working," and then the much-needed death and rebirth can begin.

Thierry Henry - The Return of the King

Full disclosure: I think Thierry Henry is one of the greatest footballers to ever play the game. There, now that that's over with, we can have a rational, measured conversation about his epic -- and the word epic must be applied here -- game-winning goal today in the FA Cup over Leeds. For those of you who don't follow the world of football as closely as I do, and for the smaller subset of you who don't follow Arsenal as closely as I do, Thierry Henry, in one of the most dramatic transfers in my memory, recently returned to Arsenal on a two-month loan deal from New York Red Bulls. If you don't know what that means to Arsenal fans, just type in "Thierry Henry" and "Arsenal" into YouTube and say goodbye to your weekend. The greatest striker to ever wear the red and white returned to his club for what was meant to be a squad boost to a depleted front line and a locker room boost for an inconsistent, youthful team. What it became today, after his epic game-winning goal (have I mentioned it was epic?) in the , was something out of a fucking J.R.R. Tolkien book. I would apologize for my language, but I'm so freaking excited about what happened today that words of all sorts of fire and density are spewing forth like magma from an erupting volcano (AHHH!). And to answer your inevitable question, yes, volcanoes are awesome, which is why I used one as a positive analogy.

But for all the superlative adjectives I could use to describe Thierry Henry's career, what he meant to Arsenal, and what him scoring a game-winning goal (epic) tonight has done for a frustrated, albeit slightly-spoiled, fanbase, most football fans know the "Thierry Henry story." Even the staunchest anti-Arsenal fan is a fan of Thierry Henry's body of work, because, well dammit, he's just that good. He played a match tonight at a stadium where they've already erected a statue of him.

So I'm going to avoid talking about Thierry Henry's brilliant career, and talk about something small, something so miniscule-beautiful (it's a thing), that it single-handedly expresses what I love about football. When Alex Song (circled in red) received a pass from Andrei Arshavin at the top of the box, he had a myriad of options ahead of him. In this frame, Thierry Henry is off camera to the bottom left, doing what he does best: Finding a gap in the defense.

Song could've kicked it ahead short to Arteta, swung it out wide to an open winger, or pushed it into tight space where Aaron Ramsey was waiting. But Song stepped up and held onto the ball patiently, waiting for the attack to open up in front of him. He pressed forward with the ball, sucking the defense toward him, which appeared to open up a few passing lanes. From here, he still held full control of the situation, but remained patient.

Song's options were to hit the streaking winger to the top right, who then could've fed a cross into the box; pass short with Ramsay and try to open up a one-two to push him deeper into the danger zone (squealing guitars), he could've lumped it back to Arshavin, who would've had a pretty good amount of space in front of him to either hit the cross-field winger on a diagonal or take a long shot (he's good at those), or he could've tried to lay a perfectly-weighted pass in the direction of a streaking Arteta who was hustling behind the first layer of defense, but instead, he checked up, bought himself a little more time, and waited for the real chance to open up for him. Notice the four defenders forming the back line. Where are their eyes? All on Song. This is important when you see the next frame. Let's just take a big breath here, because the next frame is so beautiful it needs to be seen twice. Once without my fucked-up scribbles, and then once with them so I can actually explain what made this moment so spectacular.

Do you see it? Alex Song sees it. He's still got loads of options too, and he's collapsed the front line of the defense in on him. He basically single-handedly froze eight players just from pushing forward and holding onto the ball. Had he made a different decision, to just quickly pass it off to someone else, this whole play would've broken down.

All right, now I'll show you the same frame but with some scribbles. Get excited.

You'll notice the winger at the top right now, his arms raised, begging for the ball. What the hell? Why do people do that?! NFL receivers, Kobe Bryant, and wingers. They're all the bloody same. They all want the ball and they throw fits when they don't get it. But Alex Song is in no position to pass to that winger, and, frankly, even if he did manage to get it out wide, the left back would've had plenty of time to close and the winger would've, at best, managed to thump a cross into traffic. They're set up well to defend the cross, just not the player who snuck his way into the frame. See the circle there? That's Thierry Henry. That's one of the greatest players in the history of English football. He's completely unmarked. They're not even watching him. They're just locked onto Alex Song and the ball. And Thierry Henry, who just came back from holiday in Mexico two weeks ago, is hardly match-fit, and probably shouldn't have even played in this match, has such tremendous instincts that he immediately recognized the diagonal and made a run so sweet it should be watched and emulated by strikers around the world; it should be played over-and-over again by youth coaches to show their young strikers what a run is. He has to time it PERFECTLY, there can be no error at all, because if he times it wrong, he'll be offside and the whole thing could come crumbling to a halt. But he spotted the gap, took the chance, and we're all now better off today than we were yesterday having witnessed it.

(Also, I'd like to show this to you from a different angle, to shut up those conspiracy theorists among you who would try to ruin this incredible moment by shouting offsides. There, suck it.)

All right, back to the action.

Song threads a brilliant pass through four defenders and hits Thierry in stride. Snapshot aficionados will notice I've put an X through the winger again. He's fucking persistent, isn't he? The ball is already on the way to Thierry F&#%ing Henry, and he's still shouting for the ball. Put your hands down. Just watch. That's what the defenders will be doing in a couple seconds.

Thierry receives the ball and flicks it up in the air with a deft touch that brings tears to my eyes (his first touch is the opposite of Nicklas Bendtner's), stopping a difficult pass with tremendous skill and laying it out in perfect position at his feet. While he's running. While defenders are chasing him and a goalkeeper is about to come out toward him to close the distance. Thierry Henry's got some big ones, doesn't he?

Henry opens his body up, giving him a secondary angle to the far post, but he splits the goal in half and essentially leaves the keeper with a bit of a conundrum (left or right? Hmm!). Now, I've seen other strikers miss this shot so many times I've lost count. I've seen it smacked against the side netting, lofted over the keeper, rolled wide right (Theo Walcott's favorite one), or even just kicked right at the keeper. But I had no doubt what was going to happen when Thierry got in this position, and you can see an Arsenal player sprinting forward with his hands raised already. Apparently, he's done his Thierry homework like the rest of us (minus the defenders, who obviously watched a few MLS matches last year and thought Henry was a horse headed for the glue factory).

Look at it. Just soak it in. Let that beautiful shot make love to your eyes. Let the outstretched keeper toil in infinite space and time, the ball already behind him, 60,000 fans in mid-leap, the game, once tied, a millisecond away from being over.

Voila. The money shot. Henry sprinted down the touchline, his arms spread wide in unexpected -- but strangely expected, too -- glory. His teammates tried to mob him, but Thierry kept running down the sideline, shouting passionately at the home fans who've shown him decades worth of love and adoration. He looked like he'd just won at "Gladiator" (I'm really good at Roman history, obviously), and as he ran down the sideline, he embraced his coach, Arsene Wenger, the way a child hugs his dad after his first home run. It was fucking epic, and I got misty. It could've have been written any better.

That goal is why I love football, not just tactically, but because of the drama and the strategy behind something so simple as a well-timed run behind a weary defense. Thierry Henry is why I love football. And I'm sure as hell glad to have him back in an Arsenal jersey.

Quick Takes - Secret Santa, psychosis, and sports!

I'm very glad you're alive.

I received a mystery gift on my desk today. It's not a small gift, either. It's quite larger than most gifts I receive. But I have to admit, I'm afraid to open it. Not because I want to keep the spirit of Christmas alive in my heart by waiting until Dec. 25th to open it. No. I'm more afraid that it's some sort of mail bomb, left by a mortal enemy who thought a finely-wrapped present would be a brilliant way to blow my face off. It's got hand-curled ribbons, people. If that doesn't say crazy I don't know what does.

I'll probably just have some holiday beer and open it later.

That reminds me of a weird story, about a "fan" who tried to kill Bjork. I can't fathom why anyone would want to kill Bjork -- she's an Icelandic fairy princess sent from the netherworlds to ease us into death with her haunting music -- but one particular fan thought it would be a great idea to mail her an acid-spraying bomb and end her musical career/life. He filmed himself making the bomb, filmed himself mailing the bomb, which I bet was the least-riveting part of his one-man documentary, and then he filmed himself blowing his brains out with a gun. A happy ending for all. Of course, the police intercepted the acid-spraying bomb and saved Bjork from an untimely death, which is awesome of the police to have done (Biophilia ruled). But what brings so-called "fans" to try to murder the people they love? And why doesn't that type of stuff happen very often in sports?

I'm not calling for it to start, obviously; I'm thrilled that crazy people seem to avoid sporting events, but outside of a few rare instances (like the Iraqi football player who was shot and killed on the field a couple years ago by an incensed "fan" after missing a crucial penalty), the crazies have left sports alone. Maybe it's because athletes, while otherworldly in physical traits, don't make the type of mental and emotional impact on people that musicians and artists do. When you watch an athlete, you're watching someone do something physically extraordinary. When you watch a musician or an artist, you're watching someone create. And while those two lines can blur with especially gifted athletes (Michael Jordan comes to mind), athletes are usually following a script more than writing one. They're fulfilling the strategies of their coaches, they're fulfilling the promise of their physical skills. I don't want to discredit athletes with this discussion either; athletes are incredibly creative and exploratory within their sports, and in order to transcend into "greatness" they have to tap into the emotional collective of the fanbase and their peers, but artists connect with people and people connect with artists on a different level. Whereas in sports, people connect with teams, and occasionally players, but more for the joy of watching them perform exceptional feats than for what they do to inspire and intrigue.

• The Texas Rangers have won the negotiating rights to Japanese star pitcher Yu Darvish after posting a winning bid of $51.7 million. The Rangers will now have 30 days to sign Darvish to an MLB contract, or they'll get their money back and Darvish will go back to Japan. Damn. That's a lot of money. The Rangers said they didn't want to start out the bidding by "insulting" Darvish and his Japanese Club, The Nippon Ham Fighters (who I assume have some sort of pig mascot ...), by posting a bid lower than what the Red Sox paid in the Daisuke Matsuzaka sweepstakes years ago, but, come on people, it's baseball! Isn't there something better we could do for Japan than give one of their baseball clubs $50 million? There's still a ton of clean-up left to do from the earthquake and tsunami; what if the Rangers had made a bid of $25 million to NPHF (Neil Patrick Harris' Fighters) with a promise to donate the other $25 million they would've paid for Darvish's services to a tsunami relief fund? Did I just blow your minds?
• A transformer blew at Candlestick Park last night, just minutes before the game between the San Francisco 49ers and the Pittsburgh Steelers was set to start, and it left both fans and players in the dark. The players, however, were in the locker room, which prompted a delightful question and response between a member of the media and 49ers coach Jim Harbaugh. Media: "Coach, what was it like in the locker room [after the lights went out]?" Harbaugh: "... It was dark."
• And people wonder why the newspaper industry collapsed.
• If you're wondering if there's such a thing as the East Coast Bias, this morning, the day after the 49ers routed the nation's beloved Steelers 20-3 in prime time, ESPN talking heads were still debating whether or not the Steelers are Super Bowl favorites (or at least in the top three after Green Bay and New Orleans). I think an NFC West team could win the Super Bowl and national broadcasters would still be arguing about how much better the AFC East is.
• I was listening to the radio last night, and the local sports station, 710 ESPN, had their "Hot Stove League Show" on, where they were discussing everything under the sun (rain?) about the Seattle Mariners. When they got to Franklin Gutierrez, the light-hitting/great-defending center fielder for the Mariners, they decided that if Gutierrez can hit "12-15 homeruns with a .260 batting average" next year, then he'll be a top player for the team and worthy of a contract extension. Those of you outside of Seattle who are reading this probably just did a double-take ("Is that for a whole season?"), but things have gotten so bad here offensively that, when I heard it the first time, my reaction was, "Fifteen homeruns would be AMAZING!" Good thing we've spent all winter beefing up that offense.
• Jimmy Rollins apparently turned down more money from the Milwaukee Brewers to stay with the Philadelphia Phillies: "You have to take everything in consideration when you've been somewhere since you were 17. To go somewhere new, at this part of my career, you feel like a rented player because you weren't part of the process of building the team up. From the first day I got here in the big leagues, it was about making this team a contender and then a champion. Those things have been accomplished, the champion part not as often as I would've liked. Obviously, when money is on the table, and it's guaranteed, it's tempting. But you think of everything else that you've done and what you will be able to do going forward and where it makes sense for you to do those things." ... Albert Pujols does not compute.

Quick Takes - The real Santa

This is a test, children. Keep it together.

I was walking around downtown Seattle on Saturday, trying to immerse myself in the holiday spirit that comes with hundreds of thousands of people crammed together in a tight space. It's cozier that way. There was a huge line of people waiting to take their picture with Santa in Nordstrom's, and yet, only a few feet away, sat another Santa, a lonelier Santa, who struggled to find a willing child to sit in his waiting lap. Could it have been his hand-scrawled cardboard sign that read "Photos with Santa" in a depressing scratch? Could it have been his thin, ragged beard patched with flecks of grey? Or maybe it was his dirty costume that hung off his body like skin on a skeleton. Whatever it was (if not a combination of the three), there were a lot of people wasting their time in the Nordstrom's line when they could've had a much more authentic experience with the sidewalk Santa.

The real Santa isn't all about the flashing lights and lengthy lines. He doesn't want to make children cry out of fear or devour their parents' wallets with overpriced prints. He wouldn't try to recreate some plasticized North Pole that makes a mockery out of his world and the hard work his elves really do. The real Santa would've been that guy on the corner; a quaint sign in his spotted hand, tired and weary from busting his ass making toys for the entire world, seeking only the true of heart to sit on his warm (hopefully not from urine) lap.

Everyone who walked by the real Santa to wait in a line filled with gluttony, selfishness, and greed will surely have failed the big guy's test. Don't people get it? Wouldn't that just be so brilliant of Santa? To put two Santas across from one another -- one shiny and corporate sponsored, and another, with a cardboard sign and a smelly coat -- and test out who really cares about Christmas, who really appreciates the spirit of the season. It's like some sort of religious moral story that the entire city failed, and, if you look at demographics data from the country, that means ~75% of those people who walked by that hangdog Santa were god-fearing Christians who are preparing for what's supposed to be their f*#&ing World Series of charity and kindness! But no, no, it's better that you have the fancy Santa from the fancy Nordstrom's so your gold-plated scrapbook isn't jeopardized.

• Just realized that if Justin Bieber had been the halftime entertainment during the game between Tom Brady's New England Patriots and Tim Tebow's Denver Broncos, our species would no longer have been viable after every young girl in the world exploded.
• According to a source, Jacksonville Jaguars' owner Wayne Weaver's added a clause in the contract of his sale of the team to Shahid Khan in which Khan must pay $25 million to a charity of Weaver's choice if he moves the team from Jacksonville within five years of purchase. Hey, Sonics fans, does this sound familiar? Clay Bennett (*spit*) had to agree to pay the city of Seattle ~$50 million if Seattle didn't get a new franchise within a certain timeframe after "relocating" the team to Oklahoma City (*spit*). Of course it didn't happen, and of course Bennett was more than willing to give up $50 million for an asset worth hundreds of millions of dollars, and I'm sure Khan will have no problem parting with $25 million for the huge financial boon of moving the team to a better market. Do these owners think we're stupid? Or are they just used to throwing cash at their problems to make them go away?
• Throwing cash at a problem to make it go away is also known as "Pulling a Kobe."
• Although Kobe Bryant's wife did just file for divorce, so I guess his $4 million dollar "whoopsie" ring was just a Band-Aid. That's an expensive-ass Band-Aid though. I buy the cheap Kroger ones.
• ESPN has announced that ESPN college football analyst/whiny dad/Texas Tech saboteur Craig James is running for the Republican nomination for the U.S. Senate in Texas. If elected, his first order of business will be to make his son the starting wide receiver for the Green Bay Packers.
  
• The New York Knicks have allegedly signed the waived-carcass of Baron Davis to a veteran minimum contract. Did they need someone to direct a documentary about the team's season? I can't think of any other reason to sign Baron Davis.
• The Indianapolis Colts avoided a winless season the same day the Green Bay Packers lost out on an undefeated season. I think we know which team got their pictures taken with the real Santa.
• Barry Bonds has been sentenced to two years of probation, 250 hours of community service, a $4,000 fine, and 30 days of home confinement for Federal charges of obstruction of justice. Seems like a bit of a light sentence, eh? For contextual purposes, let me just leave Bonds' estimated earnings over the course of his MLB career right here: $188,245,322. Boy, he's really going to think hard about what he's done.
• I want to clear up a potentially-awkward situation: Yesterday I sent a message over Twitter to my friend Kevin, a Bears fan, that said, "Go Seahawks!" I was not watching the game at the time I sent that message, and it was only after I sent it that I realized that Bears WR Johnny Knox had just been taken off the field on a stretcher after being hit by the aforementioned Seahawks. Whoops. Can I buy all you Bears fans $4 million rings so you'll keep reading?

Quick Takes - Medium-to-Long Takes

Get on with it!

There have been some complaints from my faithful readers (the two of you), that my Quick Takes are no longer "quick," but have morphed, instead, into something more akin to Medium-to-Long Takes. I apologize profusely for wasting your time with extra words. We are all busy folks with much to see and do on the Internet (especially if you're my friend Steve, who has gone to corners of the Internet the Japanese couldn't even imagine), and my meandering stream-of-consciousness rants are devouring your daily consumables. It will stop today. I promise. I'm not just going to ramble on about the daily sports news anymore, wandering through my brain like, well, like Steve wanders through the Internet (if you haven't guessed, I'm referring to weird pornography). You want hard facts, you want the ADD version of the sports world, because that's what you've grown accustomed to. ESPN delivers the news in bite-sized versions: A streaming ticker with one-sentence stories running 24-hours a day, sound bites, 30-second timers on talk shows before being forced to move on to the next subject by some obnoxious buzzer. We want our news like we want our needles, quick and bloodless.

But I like blood, dammit. Whenever I get a shot (I make it sound like it happens a lot ... it really doesn't), I always watch the doctor put the needle in, I watch them push the tubes up into the suction release and I marvel at how quickly they fill up. It's cool that we can just drain our own blood and it has almost no impact on our bodies. Blood? Pshh! That's what our bodies think, and that's what I think too. Which is why I profoundly rescind my apology and will venture forth writing Quick Takes however I please! "Quick" is an arbitrary term anyway, so either you need to re-define your definition or just learn to read faster. There are a lot of books available on speed reading (although that could be a frustrating medium to choose to learn that subject). I'm sure it's a useful skill. Not in the post-apocalypse or anything, but maybe if you're trying to ... read faster.

I weigh all skills against their usefulness in the post-apocalypse, and, surprisingly, speed reading isn't high on my list.

• I want to further refine my argument yesterday about steroids, without getting too much into detail (I have a beast of a pro-steroids article cooking and don't want to waste it on a medium-to-long take). When I say I don't care about steroids, what I'm really saying is that the arbitrary decision to exclude steroids from professional sports is hypocritical and pointless in the grand scheme. Ignoring the fact that sports stars from the dawn of sport have used enhancers to supplement their above-average talents, the way leagues and Congress (who shouldn't be involved in the first place) have decided to put steroids in the cross hairs, while all sorts of other performance enhancers are allowed and legal, is just idiotic. Tiger Woods recently said he'd used PRP (blood spinning) to overcome knee and tendon injuries in the past, where doctors remove a small amount of the patient's blood, concentrate the platelets and growth factors, and then inject them at the site of an injury to promote healing. That's legal, but steroids aren't. That's legal, but blood doping isn't, where a patient essentially incubates his blood in a higher-oxygen environment and then has them reinjected into the body just before an event to sustain longer endurance and activity. We're just throwing darts here, people, and steroids have become the easy scapegoat to try to show fans that the leagues promote physical fairness. But steroids are an external enhancement, just like the insane supplements athletes take, the energizers, the muscle-builders, etc., they're all external enhancements. I could write about this for days, so I'll just end it with this: If an adult athlete wants to take steroids to perform better at his job, and he's willing to risk his own long-term health for the short-term benefits of increased performance (and increased $$$), then I say go for it. It's already happening, and players are already taking them (and not taking them, don't forget), so just stop the ridiculous parade; stop pretending like you care about athletes' health and the messages you're sending to kids and let these already-talented, already-above-average physical specimens do what they feel is necessary to compete at the highest level. Most will choose their health, but for those who don't, let them make that choice. You're already letting them make the choice to get concussions, to damage their brains, to become obese to play certain positions in the NFL, you're already letting them make the choice to take powerful enhancements and nutritional supplements, and you're already shooting them up with cortisone, vitamins, etc. and giving them pure oxygen and chemical solutions to give them energy and sharpen their senses so they can play at their best during a game, even if they're so injured they shouldn't be able to stand. Steroids are meaningless.
• I think I just blew my pro-steroids article on a medium-to-long take. Oh well.
• The New Orleans Sterns have finally traded away Chris Paul. After vetoing a deal to send him to the Lakers, then vetoing another deal to send him to the Clippers, the league agreed to send him to ... the Clippers! The Sterns will receive three players and a first round pick and will give up Paul and two worse picks. So it seems like everyone makes out okay. Everyone except Clippers owner Donald Sterling, who incurred a net loss on players he can creep out.
• Chicago Bears wide receiver Sam Hurd was arrested at a steakhouse in Chicago last night on federal drug charges. Hurd told a CI (confidential informant ... I know what that means because of "Dexter") that he wanted to buy "five to 10 kilograms of cocaine and 1,000 pounds of marijuana per week for distribution in the Chicago area," according to a report by ESPN's Michael Wright, and now faces serious criminal charges. Hurd first came on the police's radar after a man was stopped with $88,000 in cash, intent on purchasing cocaine, while driving a car belonging to Hurd. The man told police that the car and money belonged to Hurd. Authorities confiscated the money, and Hurd contacted them to get the money back. He called the police to get his drug money back! Awesome! You didn't see that on "The Wire," did you?
• There are very few rivalries in sports as fun as Blackhawks-Canucks. And things have picked up a lot of steam lately with both teams using the media to trash one another. After Chicago center Dave Boland talked shit about the creepy Sedin twins, Vancouver head coach Alain Vigenault responded: "When you have comments like Bolland's, he's obviously an individual whose IQ is probably the size of a bird seed, and he has a face that only a mother can look at." It's a great attempt at trash talk, and he does well with the Monty Python-esque kicker at the end, but, dammit, he really lost it when he compared a measurable statistic to a physical object. I know what he was trying to say, but go with, "His brain is the size of a bird seed," or, "His IQ is quite low for his age," but don't say his IQ (measurable mental statistic) is the size (physical trait) of a bird seed (physical object). Let's just chalk this one up to him being French-Canadian.
• This, right here, is what's wrong with the NBA, from an ESPN Truehoop article on young Clippers (now Hornets) guard Eric Gordon: "[Clippers head coach] Mike Dunleavy repeatedly begged Gordon, who loves to absorb contact off the dribble, to be more expressive with referees so he could earn more trips to the line." I hope David Stern falls in a chocolate river and can't be saved for what he's done to the NBA.