Booing him will only fuel his massive ego, and the way to bruise an ego like his is with indifference. There's nothing that will upset him more than not being paid attention to when he hits the field. That will show him way more than booing him will.
-- Merril Hoge, ESPN analyst.
It's an interesting approach. But not when you've got Deadspin, AOL's FanHouse and Kissing Suzy Kolber poking the Eagles nest with a stick.
As of 5:30 p.m. Wednesday, the high bid on eBay was $4,800. Thirty-seven people were in the game.
Wait, before you bid, you also must have room for Keith Byars and Jay Novacek and a fork lift of food and beverages, compliments of Miller Lite, which will donate the proceeds to the V Foundation, a charity that seeks a cancer cure.
When did Ben Franklin climb on top of City Hall? That was national TV, Mike Tirico. And we wonder why Johnny can't nail his SAT IIs in American History.
Enrico saw what I saw: A fan in the stands with a sign that read: "Get well soon T.O. so we can HURT you!" Guess we'll hear some more about Terrell Owens this week.
You never think that one day you will become the No. 1 destination for women wanting to know which NFL players are looking for a little something on the side.
Somewhere, Prof. Ben Baldwin is sharpening his red pencil.
Apologies for taking yesterday's white Bronco events so seriously, but there was always the possibility that the initial police report was correct, and that the story clouded once someone starting counting how much money would be lost by telling the truth.
It's better in a lot of ways if we take Terrell Owens at his word that he mixed too many painkillers with his killer-abs supplements, and wound up telling rescue workers something goofy.
Shallow Center starts it off:
Remember all of that nonchalance from yesterday? That talk of taking a Zen approach to losing? Yeah, well, today, not so much. The Phillies' last two games, during the most important stretch this team has played in years, have seen them revert back to some of their most crushing bad habits: Tightening up at the plate when runners are on base. The bullpen's blowing a late lead or allowing a damaging insurance run. Sloppy fielding. And, perhaps the most ominous sign, bad luck, evidenced last night by Chase Utley's foul-pole homer that wasn't. Meanwhile, the Dodgers are riding Nomar Garciaparra's surge to stay in the race. I fear the baseball gods sensed overconfidence in Philadelphia and decided to smite us. Forget about Zen; pass the antacid.
Silas "Si" Simmons -- born Oct. 14, 1895, reared in a rowhouse at 17th and Bainbridge, signed as a left-handed hurler by the Germantown Blue Ribbons while Satchel Paige was still in short pants -- is profiled in the New York Times.
That's him, middle row, second from the right, as a member of the 1913 Homestead Grays. ""Oh, we had good times," he declares. Simmons played in the days before there was a Negro League. He's 110 years old. He lives in Florida now. And likes to watch the Tampa Bay Devil Rays.
(Hat tip, Enrico of The 700 Level, who writes "a must-read for any baseball fan.")
Tom Durso at Shallow Center hung up the spikes in mid-summer, with a new baby, a new job and general blog exhaustion making the whole Phlogging thing feel old. He hadn't written about baseball since Aug. 4th.
Back then it was folly to think the Phils would be in the hunt when summer turned to fall.
Durso's can't believe he's back. In his first post in a month and a half, he writes: