Ahmad Brooks is wrong about football when he says, as he did to the San Francisco Chronicle, “That's just how football is played. I think this s--- is bull----. Football, the way they call stuff these days, it's watered down. It ain't real no more.”
But it IS real, and it’s going to even real-er in years to come, because as real as football used to be, CTE and lawyers are way more real than football will ever be.
[RELATED: Was Brooks' penalty the correct call?]
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The New York Jets’ great Dave’n’Buster’s controversy has died a hilarious and stupid death after only a few hours, because of three things:
One, the quotes from Buffalo’s Mario Williams are apparently commingled to make him sound more critical about the Jets Saturday night team trip to D&B’s than he actually was. Two, Dave and Buster’s is not a strip club where all the tables are coated in heroin.
And third, it’s the Jets. They don’t need Whack-a-Mole all-nighters to be the Jets.
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Toronto Mayor Rob Ford, the Jets of elected officials who is already burdened by post-football withdrawal and his own generalized lunacy, nearly steamrolled a female councilwoman Monday during a hearing to see if he could be removed as mayor for, well, for excessive Ford-ery. We mention this only because, having failed to advance the Toronto Argonauts to the Grey Cup Sunday, he is left with either the Bills, or maybe Dave & Buster’s pickup team.
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Urban Meyer’s laughable complaints about the BCS as he considers Ohio State’s diminishing chances of playing in the national championship remind us of one of our favorite initiatives:
Only complaints by coaches that would benefit other teams will be accepted from this moment on. If Urban Meyer wants to bitch on behalf of Baylor, we will listen. Bitching on behalf of Urban Meyer will not be.
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Las Vegas books are already noticing that college basketball’s new rules are playing havoc with their totals lines, so they are going to jack up their over-unders until the new limitations on hand-checking and post contact can be absorbed.
Of course, there is one other way to normalize conditions that college basketball has tried in the past: Game-fixing.
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The ad that appeared in Monday’s Jacksonville Times Union urging Jaguars owner Shahid Khan to sign Tim Tebow “and we will fill up the stadium” was ascribed to “The Citizens of Jacksonville.” Here’s a more likely analysis: One person, speaking only for him- or herself, put the ad in hoping to get some attention once someone did the necessary sleuthing to learn his or her identity.
The upshot. No Tebow, and no crack journalism to expose this latest affront to three-dimensional reality. Because, in the final analysis, nobody cares about the Jags, or any of their employees. Sorry, ‘Sheed, but you’d be better off concentrating on keeping Fulham in the Premier League.
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Lionel Messi’s latest injury, a turn hamstring, will keep him out of his magical kingdom for two months, and according to ESPN’s Rory Smith can only help Argentina’s World Cup chances. These are not the ravings of a lunatic, but the logical result of Smith thinking that Messi’s injury history, born of years of overwork (he is, after all, a 26-year-old geezer), may render him unreliable for the big show, and helps Argentine manager Alejandro Sabella try out some non-Messi sides just in case.
That said, if Messi can so much as hop come the tournament, he will be playing – that is, if Sabella values the continued construction integrity of his home and car.
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Michael Jordan is now two-for-two in that most important post-basketball metric, GTEGTPYLF. As in, “Getting The Ex-Girlfriend To Pay Your Legal Fees,” as a second woman who claimed Jordan fathered her child has had to do. DNA results showed that Jordan was not the donor for either child, which means that he either has a even more remarkable level of body control than he ever did with the Bulls, or . . . or, let’s just leave it at that. I don’t want to pay anyone’s legal fees either.
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And finally, the great “The Ref Swore At Me” controversy looks like it’s going to die, as any microphones on linemen near Washington’s Trent Williams were not on and recording during the time that umpire Roy Ellison allegedly unloaded on Williams. That is not a mistake the late Earl Strom would have made when he was busy being the best official in the NBA, or Bruce Froemming when he was a National League umpire. They would have cheerfully repeated whatever they said until someone could get the sound levels up.
And that is entirely to their credit, because, well, why the hell shouldn’t they? Besides, who in their right mind could watch every play of a Redskins game without going all potty-mouthed?
Ray Ratto is a columnist for CSNBayArea.com