MichaelLortz.com/JordiScrubbings.com

Earlier this weekend, I wrote a post at ScalpEm.com linking to several articles that discussed Florida State University student-athlete Myron Rolle. Rolle, a starting safety on the FSU football team, recently became a Rhodes Scholar and was awarded a scholarship to Oxford University. Although everyone seems to be agreement that Rolle’s achievement is quite the accomplishment, unfortunately, no one is talking about it.

Where are the columns promoting Rolle as a role model? I thought I was sure to find some. When I looked however, there were few to be found. From the African-American community, I found a few blogs that gave Rolle a shout, or a courtesy post, but none that compared his story to that of PacMan Jones, Chris Henry, Mike Vick, or other African-American athletes who have made headlines for the wrong reasons. I would think a post or an article discussing the achievements of Rolle and Barack Obama and why more of the African-American community should strive to be like them would write itself. Maybe I am wrong.

Another group that has failed to live up to my expectations in discussing Myron Rolle is the reporting press of the FSView, the Florida State University university newspaper. If there is any group that could relate to Rolle’s workload and the full impact of his accomplishments, it is his fellow students. Yet scrolling through the FSView archives, I only found one article, dated September 4th, devoted entirely to Rolle. Other mentions of Rolle’s accomplishments are blended in with overall football team news. With another story that should write itself, I would think the FSView would be the foremost authority in comparing Rolle to some of the more infamous members of the football team, especially in light of a few wide receivers’ brawls and battles. I don’t think that would be a hard story at all.

On a related note, where are the stories about the people behind Myron Rolle’s success? Rolle is the pinnacle of achievement in college student-athletics, yet no one is writing about his teachers, his mentors, or his university program. From the popular writing, Rolle’s Rhodes Scholarhip seems to be derived entirely from his own abilities without any help from anyone. Just as a student-athlete could not cheat his way through college without help, Rolle needed a hand to be as accomplished as he is. I find it odd that when a student drastically misbehaves, such as former Ohio State running back Maurice Clarett, numerous articles are written examining and investigating how the system failed, but when someone does exceptionally right in the same system, who speaks on behalf of the advisors, the professors, or the counselors?

(This video post, for example, I found absolutely deplorable. Apparently, Mark Kriegel of FoxSports believes that Rolle’s accomplishment is a great seque into a denouncement of the horrible and horrendous NCAA system, a system that demands athletes be one-dimensional ignoramouses. Note to Mr. Kriegel: Myron Rolle is a result of that very system. He doesn’t go to Yale, or Harvard, or some other college known more for its academics. He goes to Florida State University. What Mr. Kriegel doesn’t seem to understand is that if given the opportunity, most people will take the easy way towards a goal. That goes for student athletes in Geology 101 “Rocks for Jocks” or writers who mail in 2-minute rambling video diatribes about the horrors of student-athletes using every well-worn argument against the NCAA. Maybe if the system demanded more of the athletes, instead of less as Mr. Kriegel seems to want.)

The bottom line is that Myron Rolle’s achievements should not be overlooked. What Rolle has accomplished, as the first major sport student-athlete to receive a Rhodes Scholarship in over 25 years, is an amazing feat. He should be a role model, not only for his teammates, his community, and his school, but for all of us. And hopefully more people understand that, start talking about it, and start pushing each other to be more like Myron Rolle.

(Originally published on ScalpEm.com)

In the week since Seminole safety Myron Rolle became a Rhodes Scholar, numerous articles have been written about his accomplishment. Through the many voices of both the blogosphere and the mainstream media, it is apparent Rolle’s achievement has transcended FSU and the sporting world and has quickly become one of the best individual accomplishments of 2008 at any level. Here is a sample of the various points of view people have taken on Myron Rolle:

Gregg Doyle of CBS Sportsline thinks Rolle should get at least one Heisman vote for his accomplishments.

Here is a post that discusses Myron’s effect as a role model for younger African-Americans.

Another African-American blogger gives Rolle his “props”.

One of the local newspapers from Rolle’s home state of New Jersey covers the story from their angle.

An Australian writer compares his “inadequate” life to Myron Rolle.

An American blogger does the same.

In case you were curious as to who else won a Rhodes Scholarship this year.

There are probably many more voices out there talking about Myron, and I will add to this post as I get a chance, but for now I have a game to watch. Feel free to add some of your favorite articles about Myron Rolle in the comments.

Go Noles!

This past Saturday marked the 45th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. According to scholars, historians, politicians, The Government, and the History Channel, Kennedy was gunned down by Lee Harvey Oswald, a mysterious goon who was both an ex-Marine and a Communist. These powers that be claim Oswald acted alone, entirely driven by his own delusions of grandeur. Or so the story goes.

Of course, you could believe the conspiracists. The ones who believe Oswald was set up. They believe it could have been any one of the following:

- The Cubans
- The Russians
- The CIA (check out this wild link!)
- The FBI
- The Mob
- Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson
- The Israelis
- The Illuminati
- Tonya Harding

But the one person who seems to get off pretty easy on the conspiracy front is the Yankee Clipper himself, Joe DiMaggio. No one seems to question his lack of involvement. Consider this:

Joe DiMaggio married Marilyn Monroe in 1954. Despite being divorced only nine months later, for years DiMaggio continuously put flowers on her grave. He had an undying commitment to her. Monroe, who died of an overdose in 1962, supposedly had affairs with both John Kennedy and Robert Kennedy. According to this article, DiMaggio truly believed the Kennedys killed Monroe to end some of her verbal transgressions. What Monroe said or learned from the Kennedys is up to dispute, but according to rumor, she told Frank Sinatra about some of the CIA’s dealings in Cuba and their actions against organized crime. Her loose lips may have spelt the end for her.

So here is what I believed happened:

For whatever reason, the Kennedys, possibly through the FBI, had their hand in the death of Marilyn Monroe. After her death, DiMaggio immediately accused the Kennedys and plotted his revenge. Knowing he couldn’t possibly get even with John Kennedy by himself, DiMaggio talked to Sinatra and his entourage of seedy elements and garnered their support. Of course, being the most famous Italian in New York for nearly a decade, DiMaggio had to have ins with some of the more powerful families in New York.

So after a year and half of plotting and planning, DiMaggio decided to have Kennedy killed in Dallas in November, 1963. For DiMaggio, Dallas was the perfect spot. It was far away enough from New York or DiMaggio’s home city of San Francisco to cause heat. All DiMaggio needed was a patsy, someone to take the shot.

According to court records, Oswald spent a short time during his childhood living in Texas, where he was the captain of his local baseball team. Shortly thereafter, he moved to New York City to live with his half-brother. During this time, DiMaggio was wrapping up his legendary career. If Oswald kept the passion for baseball, whose to say he didn’t ever attend a Yankee game and grow to admire the great Joe D?

Fast-forward to 1963. DiMaggio, with his mind set on revenging Monroe’s death, learned about an impressionable young ex-Marine who has travelled the world supporting Marxism and the Cuban Revolution. DiMaggio ordered one of “his guys” to talk to Oswald, convincing him that the murder of the President would not only be good for the world, but also would ease the pain of his former baseball idol. As needy as he was for admiration, acceptance, and attention, Oswald would have been an easy sell. He had the tools, the how-know, and now the incentive. The rest, as they say, is history.

Oh, and in case you are curious as to why DiMaggio was never really considered a suspect in Kennedy’s death, just imagine the fear a few visits by New York’s most friendliest families would have had on the members of the Warren Commission. There was no way the Yankee Clipper was even going to be questioned, capiche?

Earlier this week, 16-year old Eri Yoshida was drafted by the Kobe 9 Cruise in Japan’s Kansai Independent League. She is the first woman drafted in Japanese baseball history.

To be honest, I am not sure if Eri Yoshida’s selection is a publicity stunt or not. It very well could be. On the other hand, she could be the Japanese baseball version of Freddy Adu, and once the hype of her age goes away, she may be regarded as a solid pro. Unlike Adu, there is little doubt Yoshida’s gender will put butts in the seats. People will travel from miles around to see the curiosity that is the first female ballplayer. But is she destined to be the Japanese version of David Clyde? Or does she actually have a legitimate shot at success?

(For those who might not be familiar with the story of David Clyde: Clyde was an 18-year old high school pitcher from Houston, Texas who was drafted first by the Texas Rangers in 1973 draft. Shortly after being drafted, in an apparent ploy to attract people to see the floundering Rangers, Clyde was put on the big league roster and placed in the starting rotation. After his victorious debut, Clyde would pitch only 83 more games in the majors before ineffectiveness trumped potential. He ended with an 18-33 career record and a 4.63 ERA in five seasons.)

Whether or not Eri Yoshida will be successful in the Kansai Independent League depends wholly on her skills at throwing her famous knuckleball. With this pitch, I firmly believe there is no limit to her professional aspirations. Consistency will be her worst enemy. The skill and technique of throwing the knuckleball is definitely asexual and has little to do with the size, skill, and speed differences that seperate men and women on the field of play. All Yoshida has to do is stay consistent, which is a problem for all knuckleballers.

The signing of Yoshida and her level of success could mean the end of the seperation between men and women in professional sports. Soon we very well could have women filling certain positions in male-dominated sports. Positions like knuckleball pitcher in baseball, punter or place kicker in football, or maybe even point guard in basketball could be possibly filled by women.

Maybe Yoshida is a cheap publicity stunt. But perhaps if used correctly, and with the care and strategy ownership would put into the career of a phenomenal male pitcher, perhaps Yoshida could be the pioneer that shatters the final sports barrier.

Quick post today:

Last week I charged a down payment on a 2009 Tampa Bay Rays season ticket package. Today, the payment showed up on my bank statement. Oddly, it says “Devil Rays” as the recipient.

I guess the Devil must still run the accounting over at Tropicana Field.

Wouldn’t you think that would be one of the first things the organization would change? They have changed everything else. Or do they still use the Devil to collect? After all, according to this youtube clip, money is the root of all evil, and if the Devil is evil personified, then shouldn’t the Devil and money have some sort of symbiotic relationship?

I can only imagine the conversation the Rays front office had when they decided to keep the Devil on the payroll.

Although, come to think of it, I’m sure he enjoys his work in financial collection. He probably works for free. I bet he is like the mob in GoodFellas:

By the way, I’m sure the title of this post has been used in a divorce court somewhere. And it would make a kick-ass song or album title too, I’m thinking something blues-related.

Admin note:

I am on yet another site, one of my longtime favorites, Florida State Seminole blog ScalpEm.com.

Check it out:

Will The Bad Economy Mean a Quicker End For Bobby Bowden?

On a related FSU note, check out this video of a guy Free Boarding through FSU’s Doak Campbell Stadium:

Back in the day, during my wild and crazy college days, I went down a ramp or two in an office chair. Yeah, it’s fun. You should try it sometime.

(Originally posted on ScalpEm.com)

There is no question we are in tough economic times. Unemployment is up, the stock market is down, and people don’t know which way to turn. The credit catastrophe, the housing bust, and lack of consumer confidence have affected nearly every part of our lives. The operation of our beloved Seminoles is no exception.

We all know attendance is down at Doak Campbell Stadium this year. There are a lot of ideas behind why, but the most prominent is that people just don’t have the expendable money to travel to Tallahassee, even if hotels are removed their “minimum two-night stay” rule.  But that’s not the only way the economy is putting the squeeze on the Noles.

Last week the Associate Press put out an article, ran throughout the Internet as well as in USA Today, that explored the impact of the economy on booster donations. The AP article discusses the problems that schools such as Georgia, Washington, and Nebraska are facing to maintain their level of booster donations. The article also details the plight of Oklahoma State, where booster T. Boone Pickens’ record-breaking donation is slowing melting away due to a plummeting stock market.

So how will this affect Bobby Bowden? Well, I’ve often heard that one of the main reasons for keeping Bobby Bowden around, despite his advancing age, a continuous barrage of personnel infractions, and a diminished national stature was that Bowden could bring in the dollars. My opinions was that Bowden’s legacy and his persona as the face of Florida State Football have been invaluable in getting people to open up their wallets, even when the team’s record was less than stellar. Bowden has been a money making machine the athletic department could not afford to give up.

But what happens when the well dries up? What happens when the people can’t afford to give? From what I can tell, fans are growing more and more comfortable with Jimbo Fisher and the idea of Bowden’s succession. So might the administration start to give Bowden a push out the door? If the money isn’t coming in, why keep him around?

So what do you folks think? Is the booster pinch affecting Florida State? Are you giving less to athletics? And could the bad economy mean a swifter end to the legendary career of Bobby Bowden?

It was dark, I was 15 miles outside of Orlando, I had half a tank of gas, and I was wearing sunglasses. And an Afro.

Last Saturday night was my turn yet again to represent the Afro-Squad at an independent professional wrestling show. For years, the Afro-Squad has been one of the galaxy’s premier fan gimmick organizations. You could almost say the Afro-Squad and pro wrestling have gone together like cheap wine and Taco Bell. Trust me, once you get past the low budget stigma, it’s not a bad way to spend a night.

I have to be honest here. I’m the new guy in the Afro-Squad. Like I said, they have been around for a while. They have been involved in pro wrestling, crazy photoshops, and amateur movies, all in an attempt to foil the omnipotent bugaboo they call “The Man”. Yet like all great supergroups, there have been a few line-up changes along the way. Officially, there have been two Snowmans, two KrazyMans, and now a Jordi (I really should find a funky handle.). Unofficially, I’m probably one of nearly 5,000 in the Afro-Squad Army, a ragtag gaggle of non-practicing pimps, pornstars, practical jokers, and pro wrestlers. Which brings me back to why I was just outside of Orlando in beautiful Altamonte Springs, Florida.

For those not familiar with the geography of Florida, Altamonte Springs is a suburb of Orlando. That’s it. There is nothing special about Altamonte Springs. As a matter of fact, if you wanted to be environmentally correct, there is quite a bit wrong with Altamonte Springs. It is one of Florida’s many urban sprawl cities, destroying natural Florida one subdivision at a time. But for my purposes, Altamonte Springs is home to the Eastmonte Civic Center, the venue of choice for the night’s festivities.

Not to use the slightest bit of hyperbole, but Saturday night’s wrestling spectacular had every right to be festive. For 10 years Southern Championship Wrestling had entertained the masses throughout Central Florida. Yet now, on their 10th Anniversary, they were closing up shop. Saturday night was the end. The end of their elaborate plans, of storylines and slobberknockers, pinfalls and promotions. Needless to say, butts were in the seats, and faces lined the walls when seats could not be found. SCW’s final event was a big deal to a lot of people. So of course the Afro-Squad had to be in attendance, represented not only by myself, but also by the afro-clad Bryan Maddox and AfroBoy.

That’s the thing about pro wrestling. It’s easy to be involved. It’s easy to feel like part of the show. Whereas some people work concessions, others boo or cheer, the attractive walk ring cards, and the legendary ring bells, the Afro-Squad heckles. We put on our afro wigs (except AfroBoy, his is real) and our cheap sunglasses and we become masters of the heckling art. You might even say the transformation from mild mannered fan to fanatical heckler is worthy of the label “Heckle and Jekyl”. But don’t say that, someone might think you are old. Does anyone remember Heckle and Jeckle anymore?

Anyway, there I was in the Eastmonte Civic Center. Thanks to a mishap with Google Maps, I arrived shortly after the first match, but right on time to see the entrance of Mexican stereotype Ben Deho. Being the upstanding internationalist, Mr. Deho immediately sparked the ire of the crowd with his anti-American rhetoric. So of course I responded with a “You love tacos” chant.

The next recipient of the Afro-Squad’s attention was SCW superstar Slick Sleazy. Mr. Sleazy, a true gentleman and a scholar, goes back a ways with the Afro-Squad. Earlier this year, in a prior SCW event, Sleazy, a promoter of raw, unbridled sexual deviance, was among the Afro-Squad’s top targets of hecklization (that might not be a word, by the way). At the Eastmonte Civic Center neither heckler nor hecklee (also possibly not a word) forgot their role.

The moment Sleazy made his entrance, I immediately yelled “You still suck!”, and began laying into his loud green wrestling attire. Sleazy, recognizing my afro’ed persona, gave me a few choice words and, once in the ring, taunted me with several semi-homo-erotic hip thrusts. Unfortunately, our battle of wits was sidetracked by Slick Sleazy’s mohawked and tattooed opponent, the vicious Tribal, who due to the fact that he may just cut his own head with a weed whacker, was also the subject of several Afro-Squadian comments.

Here I must admit my most embarrassing moment of the evening. After Slick Sleazy pinned Tribal, I walked to the aisle railing with the intent of peppering Mr. Sleazy with some farewell insults before he went backstage. Unfortunately, Sleazy engaged in an unexpected counterattack, snatching my afro and sunglasses from my visage. Ashamed, I fled to a far corner of the arena, leaving the victorious Sleazy with a trophy to go along with his victory. Thankfully, a kind ring worker recovered my cherished accessories.

Learning a temporary lesson in humility, I stayed relatively quiet through the next three matches, letting other members of the crowd jaw with the parade of heels and faces. Then Aaron Epic entered the ring area.

Like Slick Sleazy, Aaron Epic was a favorite Afro-Squad target from prior events. Also like Sleazy, the illustrious Mr. Epic was known for taking action against certain afro’ed hecklers. This pattern would continue unabated.

Prior to learning his ring moniker, the Afro-Squad used to loudly refer to Aaron Epic by the color of his wrestling trunks (“Hey Aqua Pants, you suck!”). Now knowing his name, my chant of choice quickly became “Epic Failure”. But of course, that wasn’t all.

Knowing I was in his head, I frequently told Mr. Epic to “Do Something!” immediately after he struck his opponent. Being told to “do something” apparently set Epic off as he motioned for me to come into the ring to settle our differences. Knowing the boundaries of performance, and also being a bit of a pansy, I told Aaron Epic to come to me, thinking he wouldn’t dare enter the crowd. But yet he came close, pausing in his battle with Nooie Lee long enough to roll out of the ring, lean over the railing, and feign spitting on me. Our war of wits settled to his satisfaction, he re-entered the ring and proceeded to win the SCW Light Heavyweight and Florida Heavyweight Championship. Which he would then lose five minutes later.

Following Slick Sleazy and Aaron Epic, the final Afro-Squad target of the evening was Mr. Robin Donahue, manager of SCW Heavyweight Champion Thomas Marr. With his semi-bald head, broken left arm, and consignment shop-bought suit, Donahue was an easy target. In a world where managers are supposed to create hostility and fan heat for their wrestlers, Donahue is one of the best. But even he is no match for the Afro-Squad as I took him apart, from his un-Bic-ed head to his cheap bowling shoes. The champ had to go it alone, as I was all in Donahue’s head from the second he stepped towards the squared circle.

With or without his manager, Thomas Marr concluded a great night of wrestling with a fantastic 30-minute match with challenger Slyk Wagner Brown. In a battle that spilled into the crowd, returned to the ring, went back into the crowd, and then back into the ring, Marr defended his title thanks to his mix of athleticism, grit, and determination, with of course a smattering of cheap shots and low blows.

Despite the comments, the insults, the jeering, and the jawing, as the night drew to a close I stood and applauded each and every wrestler as they gathered one last time in an SCW ring. SCW had a magnificent run as one of the best sports entertainment promotions in Central Florida. But now the past is the past and the show must go on. To the owners, operators, bookers, and brawlers of SCW, I give you my heartfelt thanks. Thank you for the great shows.

And to targets of Afro-Squad ire, I hope to see you again soon. Even you, Aaron Epic. 

I’ve been keeping it brief around here of late. But that doesn’t mean I have been penning prose in other places.

Thanks to Jay Busbee (another guy who writes seemingly everywhere), I was recently able to talk about Mr. Larry “Chipper” Jones over at Atlanta Magazine. For those unfamiliar with Jay, he regularly writes at Yahoo! Sports’ NASCAR blog From The Marbles.

Meanwhile, as I mentioned before, I am teaming up with the guys who brought you Thunder Matt’s Saloon at a new blog called Pomp Culture. I posted my first entry over there, a piece on representing the Afro-Squad at last week’s final Southern Championship Wrestling show.

Oh, and here is a new pic of your humble blogger from the mind of the Snowman:

This post was originally featured on Right Down Peachtree, the sports blog of Atlanta Magazine. Because Atlanta Magazine no longer has an online sports section, I decided to repost it here.

In 2007, Jay Busbee and I began what has become a tradition: we made a bet on whose favorite team would win the season series. Our wager pit Busbee’s Braves versus my Mets, with the loser having to pen a post on their favorite version of the winner’s team. Because the Mets and Braves played to a tie in ’07, with both teams winning 9 games, Jay and I decided we should both write for the other’s site. Ever the admirer of pure dominance, Jay wrote about the ’86 Mets and I, ever the connoisseur of awkward interest, wrote about the ’79 Braves.

Going in to the 2008 baseball season, Jay and I discussed another bet. Our bet was the same, but this year’s wager had a twist: the loser was to write about the most intriguing player on the opposing team. Truth be told, I was sure I was going to pull out the victory. The Mets were again favored to win the division and the Braves were supposed to be the fodder superior teams like the Mets ate for lunch. Unfortunately for me, however, sometimes the fodder feeds first. So without further ado, I present the most intriguing Brave in Atlanta history: Larry “Chipper” Jones.

According to legend and “The Mainstream Media”, Chipper Jones owns the Mets. Not in the literal sense, of course, but in the figurative, “I will destroy you because I can” sense. Stories have Chipper leading the charge and carrying the Braves almost single-handedly past the Mets every game, and twice during the playoffs. No matter who was pitching, or no matter what other Brave could hit the ball, Chipper would come through. Through rain, sleet, or snow, Chipper Jones was a “Met-killer” and New York’s most hated adversary since Reggie Miller.

But when myth is separated from reality, we find a different story. The legend of Larry Jones becomes no longer Chipper. Superman becomes just another dude with a cape.

(Speaking of, don’t you think it’s odd that both Superman and Spiderman both worked for the press? If that isn’t a case of the media becoming the story, I don’t know what is. But I digress.)

In 190 games against the Mets, the illustrious Mr. Jones has hit .329, slugged 39 home runs, driven in 123, and posted a .422 on base percentage. Of course, these are great numbers, but they are not too far off Jones’ career average of .310, 33 home runs, 110 RBIs, and a .404 OBP. Considering Jones has played 15 years, and there are 15 teams in the National League he has played against, Chipper has had just a little bit better than one full average season’s worth of numbers against the Mets.

What does not get reported, at least to my knowledge, is that Chipper Jones actually hits better against another team. You wouldn’t know from the stories, but Chipper Jones actually owns the Phillies. Of course, not in the figurative sense, but you knew that.

In the same amount of games he has played against the Mets (190), Chipper has torched the Phillies, hitting .341, clubbing 41 home runs, driving in 144, and has a sick .461 on-base percentage.

So where are the articles discussing Chipper Jones as a “Phillie-killler”? Do Phillie fans ride Chipper as much as Mets fans? Do they chant “Larry” when he comes to the plate?

Maybe I am out of the loop. Maybe I am the only person flabbergasted that Chipper Jones hits the Phillies better than he hits the Mets. Maybe he should have named his daughter Veterans or Citizen’s Bank.