Joltin’ Joe Has Left and Gone Away

Perhaps we were premature in declaring 2016 a banner year in sports.

Apparently, a free agency has ruined athletics everywhere.

Or so declared every blubbering bobblehead on ESPN after The Oklahoma City Thunder lost prodigious forward Kevin Durant to free agency and its sworn enemy, The Golden State Warriors.

You would have thought George Washington were revealed a British cross-dresser, the outrage ran so deep. Stephen A. Smith, the loudest of ESPN’s bullhorns, called it the ‘most cowardly move’ in the history of sport. Not just the NBA. Sport. You know, gladiators and the Olympics and O.J. Simpson and shit.

The self-flatulating Bill Simmons proclaimed that the Warriors now had the NBA’s greatest “supergroup” lineup in basketball history. From the covers of The Huffington Post to the Hollywood Reporter, a viral video of a toddler vowing to punch Durant in the face became the emblem of a brokenhearted city.

I get the hurt. I could never forgive the Detroit Lions for moving to Pontiac (bitterness probably fueled by dad’s stories about Pontiac laying off police to pay for the stadium).

Still, this Chicken Little response seems a bit much, if inevitable. Yes, the betrayals must sting, the shifting allegiances must discourage.

But name a sport that isn’t contaminated by money. Long ago, free agency turned major American teams — regardless of sport — into a collection of millionaire gypsies, villains to hiss. Think of most major sports and you’re likely to know the names of more players you don’t like than the ones you do.

Like that kid in the video.

Speaking of which: Who the hell is the dad? You know, the genius who decided how fun it would be to break his kid’s heart. And tape it. And post it. I can only imagine family holidays: ‘The Easter Bunny is here, Miles! Well, his leg, at least. I really should adjust that trap.‘

And whose drawl is that later in the video? My guess is the grandfather who raised his own little Einstein. You can almost see the bait drop in the water when gramps asks Miles his opinion of that black man who broke his heart.

So that’s how Republicans are born.

And so too, perhaps, dynasties. Few Vegas bookies would offer generous odds that the Warriors will lose in the next decade.

But from armies to rock bands to sports franchises, supergroups can be tricky things. While often potent, they can be short-lived; just ask Blind Faith or the Miami Heat.

And they often wilt facing a local kid with a reason to care.

Just Don’t Be a Dick About It

I recently came across a University of Indiana study that advertisers are increasingly turning to subliminal ads to woo millennials (who knew millennials had subliminal…anythings?). From sex to software, the study said, an Internet-fed generation increasingly relies on fleeting visual clues for information.

The study wasn’t much of a jaw dropper: Journalism had to do a similar bait-and-switch years ago, cloaking itself as comedy to inform its once-attentive clientele. Hence the rise of politically canny comedians like Jon Stewart, Bill Maher, John Oliver, Samantha Bee, Larry Wilmore and Trevor Noah. Speaking of which: Why do the Republicans not utilize humor? With the exception of Dennis Miller, the GOP is known more for blowhards than belly splitters.

The study found this ad, apparently from the U.S. Dept. of Agriculture and Arousal, to be among the worst offenders:

Beer commercials, it said, remain among the most flagrant. Here’s one from Lowenbrau:

The most sexist ad of the year, however, went to a fashion site known as Candie’s. Where, the study asked, what the rocket going? And what did that have to do with fashion?

But the study also gave credit to companies whose primary advertising charm was in cleverness, not sexiness:

where can i buy disulfiram FEDEX

The white space between the ‘E’ and the ‘X’ forms a perfect arrow, suggesting a company moving forward and looking ahead. It’s subtle, but now it’s all I see whenever the logo appears.

GOODWILL

The iconic smiling face is in fact the ‘G’ in Goodwill zoomed in an cropped slightly.

THE PITTSBURGH ZOO

On either side of the tree, the faces of a gorilla and lion appear in white. In many of these examples of hidden symbolism, the ‘secondary’ imagery is often found by looking at the ‘negative space’ of the logo.

BASKIN ROBBINS

The BR in the Baskin Robbins logo is made of two colours. When you focus on just the pink portion, the number 31 appears, denoting the number of flavors Baskin Robbins offers.

HERSHEY’S KISS

The tasty Hershey’s Kisses logo is similar to the FedEx logo in that there is a hidden Hershey’s kiss between the ‘K’ and the ‘I’. You might need to tilt your head slightly to the left to really see it.

AMAZON

My favorite of the bunch. Did you ever notice the arrow from ‘A’ to ‘Z’ in the Amazon logo? The thought is that Amazon carries everything from… well you know the rest. Some say it also forms a slight smiley face.

But I think Amazon killed two birds with a single stone. Sure, there IS an ‘a’ and a ‘z,’ and it certainly looks like a smiley face.

Or maybe Amazon is smiling because it is sitting on its own erection.

Perhaps sex does sell. Whether you’re buying or not.

Getting a Handle on the Agony of Defeat

Between Donald Trump and Orlando and Brexit, the world appears on the verge of hating itself to death.

But you gotta admit; it’s been a helluva year for sports.

Consider:

Peyton Manning retires after winning Super Bowl 50, and gives one of the all-time great farewell speeches. Made Ronald Reagan’s ‘The Gipper” speech look like as ass-slap.
Liecester, a British town of 300,000, beats 5,000-to-1 odds to win the British Premiere League in soccer. To put that in perspective, the William Hill booking agency lost $3 million on Liecester, having put greater odds on finding Elvis Presley (2,000-to-1) or the Loch Ness Monster (500-to-1) alive. The bookie vows to never take bets with greater than 1,000-to-1 odds.
LeBron James leads his Cleveland Cavaliers on an historic comeback from 3-1 down to win the NBA championship. The trophy marks Cleveland’s first sports championship in half a century. And the city needed it. I’ve been there; Cleveland is like Detroit without the glitter.
Iceland defeats the U.K. in the European Soccer Championships, akin to the U.S. beating Russia in hockey during the 1980 Olympics. In shame, the coach of the British squad quits the same day. Suck it, xenophobes.

And now comes Marcus Willis, a 25-year-old tennis hack out of England. I say hack because, well, that’s what he’d say.

Before this year’s Wimbledon tournament, which began Monday, Willis was the 772nd-ranked tennis player in the world. He worked as the local pro at the Warwick Boat Club in England. He let his gut go a little. In 2015, he cleared $350 in earnings. For the entire year.

In fact, he was supposed to return to teach kids, aged 5-10, Monday afternoon at the boat club.

Instead, urged by his girlfriend to give Wimbledon one more go before hanging up the racket, he beat the 54th-ranked player in the world, Ricardo Berankis of Lithuania. He became the lowest-ranked player in more than 28 years to reach the second-round of a Grand Slam tournament. He’s guaranteed a paycheck of at least $50,000.

And on Wednesday, he’ll play his hero, Roger Federer, who has won seven Wimbledon championships.

When asked how he’ll fare against Federer, Willis dead-panned: “I’m not sure he can play on grass.” Then he continued: “I get to play on a stadium court. This is what I dreamed of when I was younger. I’m going to go out there and try to win the tennis match. I probably won’t. I might not.”

You never know. The chase of late has gone to the forceful and the fearful — except in the only place those should exist, a stadium. And how rich would it be to see blowhards have to back their words with a modicum of skill?

If only Trump’s hands could grip adult sporting goods.

The HollywoodBowles

Those who can't write, edit. Those who can't edit, blog. Operating at a loss since 2014.

Joltin’ Joe Has Left and Gone Away

Just Don’t Be a Dick About It

Getting a Handle on the Agony of Defeat