Goodell not concerned about outrage over Ray Rice suspension-ette

Goodell not concerned about outrage over Ray Rice suspension-ette
July 24, 2014, 7:30 pm
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Goodell, theNFL’s ging-y hall monitor, isn’t concerned about mirroring the nation’s outrage at seeing athletes hit women and drag them out of elevators. He’s got trying to get the 49ers and Raiders to share a stadium to worry about.
Ray Ratto

The Ray Rice suspension-ette caused considerable upset, agitation and cries of “Where’s your corporate dignity?” aimed at Roger Goodell, but the NFL’s ging-y hall monitor isn’t concerned about mirroring the nation’s outrage at seeing athletes hit women and drag them out of elevators. He’s got trying to get the 49ers and Raiders to share a stadium to worry about.

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Marshawn Lynch’s disdain for the media is measured more generously when the media memory once blocked for him. Thus, he announced his holdout from Seahawks camp to Michael Robinson, who now works for the NFL Network.

Wonder if Colin Kaepernick will now do his postgame pressers only to Joe Staley.

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Chuck Martin, the highly regarded second-year coach at Miami (Ohio) who went winless a year ago, can still spin a story, as he did for Yahoo’s Dan Wetzel:

"One of Miami's verbal commits, wide receiver Sam Martin of Colorado, momentarily flipped in the final week to Rutgers, saying the lure of playing in the Big Ten was too much to pass up.

"He said, 'Coach, I want to play at the highest level,’" Martin said. "I said, 'The highest level is the NFL. If you think they can get you to the NFL more than me, then go play there.' He signed with me.

“Here's what's in it for you if you come to Miami: I'm going to kick your ass every day. If you don't want that, then that's fine. I'm good.” He paused for a second. “'Not many people are selling you a good ass-kicking these days.'”

True that. Even Nick Saban throws that in only as a permissible benefit.

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And now, a life lesson from Ramzy Nasrallah of the Ohio State football blog Eleven Warriors. That lesson: You do not marry during football season, and you do not let someone else’s love interfere with the game. Excerpt follows:

“Their wedding was in Florida on Nov 20, 2004. I heard it was nice, via texts from attendees begging for Ohio State-Michigan updates while in disbelief over what the mediocre Buckeyes were doing to the Big Ten champions.

He had extended me an invitation. That exchange went like this:

‘I'd like you to come but it's the weekend of The Game (against Michigan). It's actually during The Game. I can't sugarcoat it. She's always wanted a fall wedding and the Buckeyes are going to be rebuilding this year so I figured it was worth a shot.’

“We were sitting at a bar in Chicago watching a Blackhawks game. I never gave him a verbal response. I just looked at him silently with a closed-lipped half-smile intended to communicate, ‘Why would you do this? Why?’

“He bailed me out, we laughed and never spoke of it again. There was no guilt-tripping in either direction. The bachelor party was terrific. “I didn't bring it up last week when he informed me that lawyers had completed their billable work in making his (divorce) official, because friends don't commit taunting penalties against friends when they're hurting. (But) don't get married on Saturdays in fall. It's a simple social mandate with no what-ifs.”

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You live in Australia. You like rugby. You have a favorite team. You drop dead. Good news! The National Rugby League has coffins emblazoned with your favorite team logo. So however you go, whenever you go, go to Pettigrew Family Funerals first, so that you can go as a Parramatta Eel, a St. George Illawarra Dragon, a Sydney Rooster or a South Sydney Rabbitoh. Because at Pettigrew, the motto is “Caring, Support And Dignity.”

And Rabbitohs.

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And finally, it didn’t take long for Real Madrid to start denting the $125 million cost of signing James Rodriguez. In 48 hours since signing the Colombian star, Real sold approximately 345,000 “James” replica shirts, or, according to Who Ate All The Pies, roughly 7,188 shirts an hour worldwide. At, say, $100 a copy, they could recoup the full cost of the deal in another week.

In other words, there’s no way to go broke owning a team unless you’re driving cross-country throwing hundreds out the sun roof every 800 feet. And the reason is because adults think wearing a jersey is a good idea.

Our culture is doomed.