Philadelphia, that scrappy red-headed stepchild of a town between navel-gazing New York and bureaucratically dull D.C., was beaten down again. But this is nothing new. The nation’s disdain of Philadelphia, and the evolution of “Philly” into a near-epithet adjective along the lines of “ghetto” or “rough,” is a wrong that deserves to be remedied (probably like the word “gay”).

Who is to blame here? Let’s start with the makers of the 1993 film Philadelphia. Their clumsy sort of parallel symbol — the juxtaposition of a struggling post-1970s milieu of urban decay with a man slowly dying of AIDS — demeans the city. Director Jonathan Demme and stars Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington all have a lot of blood on their hands. The main problem, one of several, is that the real-life subject of the film had no connection with Philly — so for Oscar-whoring Hollywood types, Philadelphia’s pre-Rendell city setting served as an appropriate milieu for Tom Hanks to suffer from a terminal illness and eventually die. Low-hanging fruit. Total assholes.

Speaking of artists mining real-life trauma for their namby-pamby “storytelling,” Bruce Springsteen is another slum-porn asshole. His “Streets of Philadelphia” takes the film’s lame symbolic co-optation of Philadelphia even further, using “wasting away on the streets of Philadelphia” as a facile image standing in for “the end of the line.” Go ahead — say it, jackass: Philadelphia is where all the total down-and-out hobos go to die.

Bruce is disgusting, and doesn’t deserve Philadelphia. Should Bruce actually play that horrible song next week at the Spectrum, I hope Philadelphia partisans fight back with a giant vat of Cheez Whiz. My fear, however, is that the well-intentioned locals may believe that Bruce is actually praising their city — which would be unsurprising, seeing how good Bruce is at misleading people — he may be the most imprecise songwriter around, a smoke-and-mirrors charlatan.

If Bruce does play “Philadelphia,” it may set back Philadelphia’s redemption from the Springsteen-Demme Cabal and everyone else who “Phillied” Philly. This redemption, by the way, in my view, came when Brad Lidge struck out Tampa Bay’s Eric Hinske last October and Lidge fell to his knees in religious exultation not to Jesus but rather generation upon generation of beleaguered Philly fans. Don’t let Bruce undo that. Get the vat of Whiz ready.

As for me, I vow from here on out not to “Philly” Philly . . . until I hear about another case of vigilante justice, that is . . .

So it saddens me to have learned what a corrupt money-grab the modern Olympics have become. As one of my favorite sports bloggers notes, the IOC may be even more corrupt than notoriously corrupt FIFA:

The IOC’s politics are way more unpredictable and opaque than FIFA’s. The IOC has all kinds of influences and stakeholders that might not be as obvious to observers as those within FIFA. Here are some examples.

FIFA’s Confederations make for more bloc voting, which both corrupts and simplifies the process. Meaning when Jack Warner or Issa Hayatou promises their confederations’ support, they not only mean it, but can get it done too. Have no doubts that CONCACAF will vote as a block (even Mexico) in favor of the US hosting a World Cup. The IOC and any alliances/blocs within it, tend to be harder to read. It’s well known for example that FIFA chief Sepp Blatter’s powerbase consists of CONCACAF, Asia and the Persian Gulf states especially. If Blatter says he favors “X,” it’s safer to assume that thus CONCACAF, AFC, and the Gulf States will go with him. Also, look and see where FIFA Goal Program funding is going. You can almost guarantee these countries will side with Blatter. This sounds paradoxical, but FIFA is so obviously corrupt it almost makes it more transparent.

Within the IOC, it’s less clear and involves more figures “outside” the formal process.

I think Anne Marie Cox (aka the original “Wonkette”), says it best when she notes that Chicago dodged a bullet:

Critics can try to pinpoint the reason that Barack Obama’s charm offensive failed him in Copenhagen. But as a former Chicago resident and patriotic American, I’m glad the city lost the bid to host the Summer Olympics in 2016. The Olympics, while rooted in grand traditions of fair play and noble amateurism, have become a corrupted and corrupting institution. The bid to be host city is an opportunity for untrammeled graft and favor-trading; the bid for the medals themselves is increasingly a contest of bank accounts, not bodies.

It’s a sad truth. And as a true fan of sports — and of what the Olympic idea might represent — it’s one of the reasons that I frankly don’t care if the Games are in Chicago, or Rio, or Timbuktu. For my part, I’d rather watch Michael Phelps smoke a bowl than go for the gold. At least that’s honest, and not overburdened and corrupted by the greed of big corporations and small men.

After the G-8 summit, Lula made a show of presenting Obama with an autographed  Brazil jersey.  Kind of a fun, professional way of being annoying.  Not to be outdone:

As the two leaders wrapped up their bilateral talks today, Lula had already taken out his earpiece providing interpretation when Obama indicated he had one more thing to say. The Brazilian president replaced the earpiece. “We will not lose a 2-0 lead again,” Obama said and abruptly turned the microphone off and stood up. Lula burst out laughing.

Go Prez!

Football is being used as a vehicle for money laundering, according to an agency responsible for tracking the proceeds of crime.

The Financial Action Task Force (FATF) report warns football is at risk from criminals buying clubs, transferring players, and betting on the sport.

It also provides a rare insight into tax evasion in British football.

The report also raises concerns over human trafficking, corruption, drug trafficking and tax crime in the sport.

… thankfully, Americans are not buying it. In spite of the fact that one can drive by an open field on Saturdays and usually see it filled with young boys and girls playing soccer, the game’s popularity has not moved anywhere toward being a major sport here in the United States.

… For sure, there may be a number of reasons that is the case but my suspicion is that the so-called “beautiful game” is not so beautiful to American sensibilities. We like, as good small “d” democrats, our underdogs for sure but we also still expect folks in the end to get their just desert. And, in sports, that means excellence should prevail. Of course, the fact that is often not the case when it comes to soccer may be precisely the reason the sport is so popular in the countries of Latin America and Europe.

Ah, I get it.  In America, only people who DESERVE to win, win.  People like Bill Gates, who inherited his money honestly before he conned his way to buying DOS.  Or, to use a sports analogy, people like Mark McGuire and Lance Armstrong, who certainly never ever would’ve ever taken any banned substances, no sir.

It’s sad that AEI is so far fallen that they’re reduced to rehashing these tired arguments.  I mean, at least say something original.  Or, better, read Franklin Foer (of Brookings) book How Soccer Explains the World.

The president’s two first round “upset” picks really don’t amount to much. He has the 11th-seeded Temple Owls, a streaking squad that won last weekend’s Atlantic-10 tournament, knocking off Arizona State, a team whose down-the-stretch underachievement culminated in an embarrassing Pac-10 title game loss to USC (a team that otherwise wouldn’t have made the field).

Scoreboard, baby!

And Mr. President, with all due respect, I hope you get booed in May (we kid because we love!).

No photos in the club enable most of the athletes to relax a little more. And autograph-seekers and fanboys are less inclined to bother them at a strip club.

(Thanks, Deadspin)

For years now, I’ve been having a running argument about the value of stretching before exercise.

I grew up with a highly regimented (and very traditional) exercise routine that invariably followed the pattern of stretching followed by either weight-lifting or aerobic workout.  Before football games, our whole team would gather on the field for a group stretch which — apart from placing us in the appropriately regimented mindset — was honestly intended to prepare us, physically, for the game.

About a decade ago now I started reading some things about stretching.  In particular, the gathering consensus was that, contrary to the conventional wisdom, stretching not only didn’t help, but could actually hurt.

It now seems like that new hypothesis is correct: there’s no value in stretching before exercise, and it’s likely that it’s counterproductive.

The bigger point here is that just because grandpa told you something was the “right way to do it”, doesn’t mean it’s actually correct.  Given the changes that have taken place in the world even over the last 10 years or so, it still blows my mind that so many people still following the edicts of their ancestors without question.

Fans here had waited 25 years for a championship parade down Broad Street. The Phillies gave them one Friday, and so many fans showed up that they nearly shut down the city.

. . .

The parade drew fans from beyond the region, too. Greg Packer, 44, of Huntington, N.Y., drove in for Game 5 of the World Series and stayed for the celebration. He arrived on Broad Street near City Hall at 5 a.m. to secure what he considered the best spot.

“In New York right now, we have no Mets, no Yankees, no stadiums,” he said. “I came here to represent and cheer our neighbors.”

But even worse than a hack Greg Packer quote — one of zillions — is that the hack Times writer missed the true quote of the day. Lame!

1) As you can tell by the YouTube, this basically summed up the mood of the day.

2) This was one of the ten to fifteen best things I’ve ever witnessed in my life, hands down.

3) Message to Chase: Don’t apologize! It’s all true!

Best speech ever:

Second baseman Chase Utley approached the microphone and proclaimed, “World champions!” Then he repeated the phrase, with a profanity between “world” and “champions,” drawing cheers for minutes. Later Friday, shirts and caps featuring Utley’s phrase were offered for sale on the Internet.

Afterward, Utley said he hadn’t planned to curse, which was aired live on TV and radio. “I was told I had to talk 10 minutes before I talked. Short and to the point,” he said.

As the Phillies moved through their awesome postseason run, which culminated in a World Series win last night, reporters would ask Burrell how it felt to be in the position the Phillies found themselves in. You got the sense in these post-game interviews that Burrell could never quite come around and give reporters a canned quote — something along the lines of, “It’s great to be here, we’ve got a great team, blah blah.” Instead, he tended to say something ambiguous, as after the Phillies beat the Dodgers to make it to the World Series:

Throughout the clubhouse pandemonium reigned as players, owners, team officials and every part of the organization celebrated the biggest win this century.

All but two players.

“I’m just not ready yet,” said the longest tenured Phillies player Pat Burrell. “I need to collect my thoughts.”

Burrell has been through both the good and the bad with this organization. The former No. 1 pick was supposed to be the face of this team but in recent years that’s simply not been the case. Burrell, who is in the final year of his contract, had a tough time gathering his thoughts, and coming to an understanding of what all of this meant.

Instead, he stood between a television riser and a row of lockers with bench coach Jimy Williams. With a Bud Light in his right hand, he muttered words to Williams and then looked out over what had once been a dream, then a nightmarish goal he never thought he could achieve. And finally, a moment of reflection.

“I’m just watching this celebration and thinking about all the times, and years in the minor leagues and how it’s all come to this point, and now it’s worth it,” Burrell said. “I really don’t know what else to say.

“Pretty much 100 percent right. This is (an introspective) moment. I’m just taking it in. There is a lot of anticipation, but when it comes it takes you by surprise.”

What’s made this so special for Burrell is that unlike any other point in his time in this organization, Burrell feels a part of a team. A 25-man roster with just one goal and one that has had a different player step up in each of the nine postseason games.

In an almost fitting display of humility, Burrell didn’t want to discuss a series in which he hit .357. He didn’t want to talk about a running catch in the sixth or, about anything he’s done.

Instead, Burrell looked around and saw teammate Jimmy Rollins, allowed a smile to creep to his face knowing that for all but two months, Rollins has been on the same journey, and the concept of team was written in every movement he made.

The other part of this is that Burrell is officially a free agent now, and he actually had a pretty good season this year (players have a way of doing that in contract years — see Ramirez, Manny and Rodriguez, Alex), so more than anyone except for 46-year-old Philadelphia-area native Jamie Moyer and perhaps Jimmy Rollins as well, I really, really wanted Burrell to win this thing. All during the playoffs, I was transfixed by what I perceived as the tense quotes that hinted at Burrell’s love-hate relationship with the Philly fans. But last night that changed, and he explained the Philly pride more than most are able to express (usually people bring up the throwing-snowballs-at-Santa trope). It made me misty-eyed:

“We play in a tough town to play in, and I’m proud of that,” said Pat Burrell, the longest-tenured Phillie, whose leadoff double in the seventh started the winning rally. “I’m proud to say I play here. I don’t think anybody in here understands the way the city and the people think more than I do. To be able to hand this over to them is as good as it gets.”

I don’t know that Burrell will get, or want — or the Phillies fans want him to have — another contract, so it’s nice that he at least went out on a high note:

[Jimmy Rollins and Pat Burrell] met as teenagers at the Area Code Games, a California-based baseball tournament designated for the top young players to be seen. Rollins and his roommate were playing dice at one of the tournaments when Burrell walked in his room. He wanted to learn how to play and Rollins gave him a quick rundown.

“Five minutes later he was sitting on the bed watching TV with no money,” Rollins said.

Burrell didn’t have to worry about money soon enough. He signed a six-year $50 million contract before the 2003 season. However, now he had to deal with Philadelphia’s fans, who didn’t give him much room for error.

He went through enormous slumps, including going .209 with 64 RBIs in just the first year of his contract.

“I know what (a championship) is going to bring,” Burrell said. “I know because I had to sit through the ’80 stuff and the ’93 stuff. Winning erases a lot of stuff.”

Burrell has said that he wants to remain with the Phillies. He stood in the clubhouse after the win, soaked in champagne. Chase Utley, one of his closest friends on the team, opened a bottle just for him.

He slowly poured it onto Burrell’s head, and the left fielder never flinched.

“You see these kids when they walk through the door. You go through their trials and tribulations with them as they go through the learning process to get here,” assistant general manager Mike Arbuckle said. “When you get here, there is another learning curve and to see them succeed is a tremendous feeling.”

The left-field boo birds have been Burrell’s harshest critics and yet cheered him harder than anyone else when he delivered his only hit of the World Series off J.P. Howell. Eric Bruntlett, who pinch-ran for Burrell, eventually scored the go-ahead run in the seventh.

His numbers don’t reflect his work ethic. Burrell was usually the first one at the ballpark and the last one to leave.

Burrell even took naps under manager Charlie Manuel’s desk.

“And he ate all the food in the kitchen,” the euphoric manager said. “I can say anything I want to him. I can tell him how good he is. I can tell him how bad he is, and he will work on it.”

There will come a day when the fans won’t be able to boo Burrell in a Philadelphia uniform.

That day could come sooner rather than later.

However, in his game at Citizens Bank Park this season, he was loved and admired.

“You can never take this away,” Burrell said.

I think what I’m impressed about is that through all the “trials and tribulations” — read: unrelenting verbal abuse by tens of thousands of insane Philly fans — the guy stuck it out and in the end manned the fuck up and helped that team win a championship. Now maybe I’m not close enough, maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention through all the thin years, but Philly challenges players like no other place it seems, and I’m happy for Burrell. Burrell means something in a David Brooks kind of milieu — something about hanging in there or something, I’m not sure what.

Now Burrell is apparently pretty soft spoken — unlike Mitch “Wild Thing” Williams, who lost the 1993 World Series for the Phillies when he threw a meatball to Toronto Blue Jays outfielder Joe Carter — but I can see him returning one day to maybe do color for the team (as Wild Thing does; the Texas native lives in Jersey now). Philly has a way of doing that to one, maybe — the passion is fierce and the loyalty fiercer.

Reading Mitch’s piece yesterday on the firing of Matt Millen, I’m buoyed by new hope for Obama.

… Millen was hired with no experience. What exactly did people expect? He was a former player turned broadcaster who had a smart and sometimes snarky way of handling his on-air analysis, and many people said, “Hey, he’d make a good GM.”

This is a little like telling a photogenic teenager, “You’d make a good news anchor.” It may be true, one day, after years of training. But you don’t give her Katie Couric’s seat tomorrow.

Which should inform the [Lions] as to their next hire. Whoever it is, please, dear Lord, do not make it a former big-name coach who wants to get his feet wet running a team. This job cannot be a proving ground. It cannot be a place where you make your first mistakes.

[emphasis added]

Mitch, in his understated way, has just drawn a connection between the ineptitude that is the Detroit Lions, and the ineptitude that would undoubtedly be a McCain-Palin administration. It was just yesterday, you see, that Sarah Palin appeared on Katie Couric’s Evening News. By connecting Millen’s enthusiastic inexperience to Palin’s enthusiastic inexperience, Mitch Albom just gave voters in the critical state of Michigan a new metaphor by which to express their discontent with the GOP ticket.

Thanks, Mitch.  And thanks, Matt Millen.  America — and the world — may yet owe you one.

Not that the folks behind this proposal ever believed they’d get a bill out of the current session. These are savvy folk. Rich folk, who’ve spent plenty of money on Olympia lobbyists in the past. They know how the system works, and they know that any proposal pitched during the final week of the session isn’t a serious proposal at all. Why they pitched it at the very last minute, I don’t know, but before any of you diehard Sonics fans get too excited by media efforts to hype this proposal into genuine hope, take a look at the facts. No bill is going to pass this session to rebuild Key Arena, and until we hear otherwise, no NBA team is available to play in it.

I’m not saying the proposal isn’t for real, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the local group eventually gets the taxpayer money they seek — if they can actually produce a team — but I’m guessing the sudden display of urgency is mostly intended to impress their fellow billionaires at the upcoming NBA owners meeting. And while I suppose it is interesting to watch the intricate mating rituals peculiar to the strange birds who comprise our nation’s moneyed elite, I’m just not so sure that us average folk really care all that much anymore.

Well, maybe we’re getting closer to an answer. Tonight, Republican Gubernatorial candidate Dino Rossi is chiding the legislature for not taking the deal.

What if the deal was intended to fail? There was no way it could have gone through in time. I’m just spitballin’ here, but Maybe Balmer and Griffin were just giving Rossi an issue to campaign on in November. When the Sonics decamp for Oklahoma, he can now blame Gregoire for not taking up the billionaires on their “offer.”

Confidential to our elected officials: you’re probably introducing a fair number of people to the workings of Congress here. If you want them all to think you’re a bunch of jackasses who enjoy wanking and grandstanding, well, … congratulations! Mission Accomplished, as they say.

I feel bad for Henry Waxman in particular — pretty much the only guy in congress who can still spell the word “oversight” — who’s now been reduced to finding out who stuck what needles in who’s posterior.

(via Postman)