Uncle John's Presents Book of the Dumb 2 (25 page)

Like all people everywhere, we love the intense competition and rivalry of sports, but we also like the really dumb things, too. Fortunately for us, the sports world—from the kids' leagues all the way up the food chain to the pros—is positively riddled with the sort of sports jerks who fill our need for muscle-headed goofs and screw-ups. We can just sit back in our box seat, eat a $5 hot dog, and enjoy.

 

W
e don't believe in shooting guns at anyone
—that's just rude—much less shooting guns at an athlete of international stature. But of all the athletes of international stature that shouldn't be shot at, at the top of the list, in an uncontested decision, stands Mexico's light-heavyweight champion Arturo “The Graduate” Rivera.

It seems that Rivera was stepping outside of a gym in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, in June 2004. A gunman approached him and unloaded two pistols in Rivera's general direction. None of the bullets actually hit Rivera, an unfortunate outcome for the gunman. Perhaps this was why the gunman came out to play with two guns instead of one: he knew he had to compensate for some really bad aim.

Well, the gunman had his fun; now it was Rivera's turn. Before the shooting, Rivera's record included sixteen knockout decisions; shortly thereafter, he had seventeen. The gunman was off to the hospital where he was treated for head injuries. Also, of course, he was arrested. The police are treating it as an attempted murder—on the part of the gunman, not by Rivera.

Let's hope for everyone's sake there's no rematch.

Source: Reuters

 

Y
ou want to know what's interesting?
We'll tell you what's interesting. What's
not
interesting is that right in the middle of a soccer match for the Union des Associations Européennes de Football (UEFA) Cup, Marseille goaltender Fabien Barthez felt the need to relieve himself. And what's additionally
not
interesting is that when Barthez felt his need, he proceeded to do just that, on the soccer pitch, in the middle of a game, in front of 60,000 spectators in Marseille's Velodrome stadium.

No, what's
interesting
is that no one at the game—not the other players, not the coaches, and apparently not the 60,000 spectators—noticed that Barthez watered the turf until
after
the game. There are pictures of the event, so we may presume at least one photographer had his eye on the real action. But the story didn't leak, as it were, until a caller to a French radio show passed on the rumor of Barthez's on-field micturation.

Inquiring minds want to know: how do 60,000 people miss something like that? Here in the United States, were Derek Jeter or Brett Farve suddenly to answer the call of nature on the field, it would be noticed. The answer, as a spectator at the game told
The Sun
newspaper in the U.K.: “I don't think anyone noticed at the time because we were all watching Marseille attacking at the other end.”

Well, gee whiz. That explains it.

Source:
The Sun
(UK)

 

O
ur suggestions as to why
the management of the Tampa Bay Lightning ice hockey team thought it was a fine idea to offer free beer to fans during the 2004 playoffs:

          
1.
  
They wanted to give the crowd the slipping and sliding feeling they'd get from walking out into the ice, without actually disrupting the game.

          
2.
  
Why limit the brawls to just the players?

          
3.
  
Because in this era of diluted play and boring defensive strategy, you'd
have
to be drunk to enjoy NHL hockey.

The real reason was none of the above (at least, so the Lightning management
says
). The team simply wanted to try to sell some season tickets for the upcoming year. So during the first game of the Eastern Conference playoffs, the team announced on the scoreboard that anyone who put down $100 toward season tickets would get free beer during the game. To many of the folks at the game (and as it was reported immediately afterward) the implication was you could get as much beer as you wanted—an endless cup of hoppy goodness with which to wash away your cares during the game (which the Lightning won, incidentally, to what one assumes were the beerier-than-usual cheers of the home crowd).

After the entirely predictable and not-entirely-outraged responses from police and groups battling drunk driving, the Lightning management realized they had a promotion hangover on their hands and quickly backtracked. For one thing,
they explained, it wasn't as if people who put down deposits on season tickets were given a personal beer bong and a monkey to tend the keg. What they got were vouchers that let them get four 12-oz beers. What's more, those vouchers could have also been redeemed for soft drinks, in case a prospective buyer's drug of choice was caffeine and not alcohol. Funny the Lightning didn't lead with the “Free Soda!” announcement.

Eventually, however, the Lightning voluntarily stuffed themselves into the penalty box, canceling the promotion and issuing an apology to those offended by the promotion. “In the end, it was a bad promotion,” the Lightning's chief operating officer, Sean Henry, told the
Tampa Tribune.
“It offended a few people and it didn't drive sales.” It's the last of these, we suspect, that
really
hurt: Only twenty-five people out of a crowd of than 21,425 were willing to take the Lightning up on their free beer offer. All that bad publicity for so little benefit.

Source:
Tampa Tribune,
TSN.ca

 

H
ey, like any red-blooded American and/or pyromaniac,
we just adore fireworks. There's nothing like the rocket's red glare to get us all Oooh-y and ahhh-y. Fireworks and sports events? Made for each other, of course! If you can't have fireworks going on with a home run or at half time, you might as well just go home.

Perhaps banking on every American's attraction to bright exploding things, the management of the football-playing Corpus Christi Hammerheads arranged to have a fireworks display before the start of their game against the San Angelo Stampede (which, we'll note, the Hammerheads defeated 29–28. Rock on, Hammerheads!). It would be a perfect start to a great game—the fireworks above the field before the game would set the scene for the athletic fireworks on the field during the game.

One small detail: the Hammerheads play football indoors.

Does this matter? It does when the firework display goes awry, as it did this night, and a blue wave of fireworks smoke starts filling the arena, as it did at the Corpus Christi Memorial Coliseum. To make matters worse, the arena doesn't have roof vents to let the smoke escape. What you end up with in that case is the audience pouring out of the stadium, a couple people carried away on stretchers for smoke inhalation, and all sorts of people taking oxygen hits because their asthma has been aggravated. Now that's the way to get a crowd worked up before the game! “I can't explain what happened,” said
Hammerheads owner Chad Dittman. Well, Chad, three words: Fireworks. Indoors.
No.

And happily enough, Dittman agreed: “It will be the last time we have fireworks,” he told the press. Hammerheads fans—and their lungs—thank you.

Source: Associated Press,
IntenseFootballLeague.com

 

I
t was a very sad day for the Carlisle Cricket Club in Carlisle,
England, when they heard that one of their own, Leonard Brunton, had gotten himself into something of a sticky wicket; namely, he was dead. For years Brunton, or “Bunt” as he was called down the pub, had served as batsman, umpire, and groundsman for the team. Oh, very sad, it was. And so the boys did the right thing: before a game they had a moment of silence, and one of his teammates spoke of him, and they even lowered the flags at the cricket field. Someone suggested that perhaps they might send some flowers, and had one of the boys call the widow to find out where they should be delivered.

The answer: nowhere, since Bunt himself answered the phone. Either the dead had risen and were playing cricket in Carlisle, or this particular Bunt had never been laid down. And while the idea of zombie cricketers is a fine one—finally, a group utterly at peace with the pace of the game!—the whole “not dead yet” thing was probably more likely. What happened was that somebody from the cricket team had read an obit in the newspaper for someone who had the nickname of “Bunt.” Reasoning that no one else could possibly have the same nickname, he went and spread the news of their old mate's passing. Good thing for Bunt his nickname wasn't “Tiny” or “Doc.” He'd have had six or seven memorials by now.

Bunt received the news of his passing pretty well: He didn't keel over in shock or anything. ““It was very weird but I'm glad to say I'm very much alive,” Bunt told the BBC. “Now I'm going to go and have a drink with them to prove I'm still here.” One wonders, when Bunt finally does pass on, if his cricket club will actually believe it.

Source: BBC,
News & Star
(Carlisle, UK)

 

J
une 2, 2004, was two things.
First, it was the tenth anniversary of the arrest of O. J. Simpson for the murder of his estranged wife Nicole and her pal Ron Goldman. Second—it was Sport Criminals Night at T. R. Hughes Ballpark in O'Fallon, Missouri, home of the minor league River City Rascals!

Yes, in this wacky promotion—a celebration of delightful intersection of sports and the criminal world—the entire stadium would be turned into a prison! Fans who wore the jersey of a pro athlete convicted of a crime would get free admission. This ruled out O.J., since he was acquitted, but never fear: A trading card with an accused athlete—which O.J. certainly was—would get you past the turnstiles. There was a trivia contest on sport criminals, prison-themed snacks (bread and water! Just $1!), and every inning, some lucky fan would be thrown into “dugout jail”—all the fun of incarceration, without an annoying shiv in the kidneys.

“We know some will be offended by this,” Rascals spokesman Phil Giubileo told
St. Louis Post-Dispatch
sports columnist Bernie Miklasz. “But we're always aggressive in our promotions. Ninety-nine percent of what we do is family friendly and wholesome. But you've got to throw a curveball every now and then.” Well sure. Because if you
can't
have edgy fun yukking it up with your kids over sports heroes who have murdered, raped, or assaulted other people, you're just an old stick in the mud. Dugout jail for you!

So how did Sports Criminals Night go? Well, it
didn't,
because apparently the fans of the River City Rascals thought it was a horrible, terrible idea to glorify the acts of cretinous athletes, and weren't shy about letting the team know. The promotion was canceled the day after it was announced. On the Rascals Web site, the team backtracked with the rationalization that “Our intent wasn't to honor or celebrate any criminal acts that were committed or alleged by a professional athlete, and was actually an attempt to identify how the media has changed in recent years as a result of these incidents.” Yes, we can see how offering free admission to people wearing jerseys of criminals is all about the
media.

Our suggestion for a replacement event: Promotion Director Piñata. Hey, they've already got the bats.

Source:
St. Louis Post-Dispatch,
Associated Press