I wanted to personally thank Stevonne Smith for improving the quality of my life over the past two weeks. Stevonne, I love you and your junior college classmate so much.
Also, I want to make sure everyone is familiar with Orenthal's newest situation.
Can we all please making a genuine effort to contribute to this wonderful site?
Thank you.
Ampy, I can't get the picture thing to work or I would post pictures of Stevonne and Orenthal.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Mandatory Reading
Occasionally, you run across something that is just so important, it deserves attention. Such was the case with this article, originally published in 1976.
ABA wheeled out its best for first slam dunk contest
Click here for more on this story
By John Papanek
Issue date: February 9, 1976
You probably couldn't get Lloyd's of London to write a whole lot of long-term insurance on the American Basketball Association these days, but if the affair in Denver last week called the Ninth Annual All-Star Game was a dying man's last gasp, it came through as some very loud whoops and hollers. Contributing to the unfunereal gaiety were Charlie (Silver Fox) Rich and the Rhinestone Cowboy himself, Glen Campbell, imported by the host Nuggets to hype the gate with a two-hour pre-game concert. Also, the game itself was a cut or two above the normal All-Star fare. Acknowledging that the shrunken seven-team league could not be divided into two equal parts, the format pitted the front-running Nuggets against the best of the rest, and it turned out to be a very good game, won by the Nuggets 144-138. But beyond all that, those red, white and blue ball crazies came up with the greatest halftime invention since the rest room: the First Annual Slam-Dunk Contest.
One edge the ABA holds over the rival NBA is the planet's richest stable of slam-dunk artists, and for the occasion of this first ever slam-dunk competition, the league wheeled out five of its best. The first three contestants were Artis Gilmore, the Kentucky giant, and wispy George Gervin and long Larry Kenon, both of San Antonio. Those three could dunk, all right, but everybody knew that the contest would probably wind up as a shattering showdown between New York's Julius Erving, M.D. (Mr. Dunk) and Denver's amazing flying boy David Thompson, Ph.D., who has recently been rewriting the laws of gravity.
Dunk-shot artists can fly. They defy physics. In a game shortly before the All-Star break, Thompson was standing at the bottom of the dotted half of the foul circle -- seven feet from the basket -- with two defenders boxing him away from the offensive boards. When a missed shot came off the front of the rim, Thompson rose his normal nine feet off the floor and in one smooth motion speared the ball with his right hand, sent it screaming down through the rim and returned to earth at the same spot from which he took off. Isaac Newton, had he been at courtside, would have said what the 15,021 fans and sportswriters said: impossible. Yet the Rock Mountain News documented the historic event with an indisputable sequence of photographs.
The slam dunk has a strange effect on basketball people. They yell and they scream. They wail. They shake their heads and slap palms. They tear at each other's clothes. Among the true believers the prospect of seeing five super dunkers practice their sublime art was at least as enthralling as the game itself.
"David's had butterflies all week," reported Thompson's roommate, Monte Towe. "We've been trying to help him, tell him which of his dunks are the best."
"I'll just be David," said the rookie levitationalist.
Erving had spent 15 minutes in the locker room before the game, pantomiming his act, moving an imaginary ball around from behind his back and over his head in various hooks and pumps.
Rumors in McNichols Sports Arena were that Thompson would attempt his fabled "cradle the baby" dunk, in which he cradles the ball in the crook of his left elbow, goes high over the rim and punches the ball smartly through with his right fist. Erving, it was whispered, was going to try to dunk from a standing start at the foul line -- a distance of 15 feet -- by rocking his body back and forth until he achieved take-off momentum. That really is impossible, but Erving had made a $1,500 bet with Denver Assistant Coach Doug Moe that with a running start he could dunk from the foul line, a mean enough feat.
Diplomatically, Erving had asked the New York Nets' Kevin Loughery who coached the All-Stars, if maybe they shouldn't get a white player into the competition. "Well," said Loughery, "what white players know how to dunk?"
"Um," said Erving.
The rule required five dunks: two compulsory moves -- one from underneath the basket, the other from the bottom of the foul circle -- and three free-style -- one from the left, one from the right and one from the baseline. A four-man panel graded each dunk as if Dr. J et al. were so many figure skaters. Two extra backboards and rims were ready "in case somebody brings one down," and all the nondunking Nuggets and All-Stars were attentive when the five contestants were introduced. "That is a serious crew," said Kentucky's Maurice Lucas as Gilmore got ready to start the earth trembling.
Flamboyance is not Gilmore's style. "When I dunk, I try to make the ball stick to the floor," he says. With one ball in each hand, Gilmore sent himself up from underneath. Wham! Slam! The crowd went ohhh, as if it had just witnessed a terrible accident. The Nugget PA announcer cautioned the photographers who were lying on their backs underneath the basket: "Please back off, The Denver Nuggets fear for your lives." One of Gilmore's dunks, a ferocious left hook, was slightly off-center, and vibrated rapidly between the sides of the rim. "Yeah!" yelled Lucas. "A rub-in!"
Next came Gervin, called the Iceman. The 6'7" guard -- the only one in the contest -- looked shaken after Gilmore's performance. He approached the basket with two balls in his hands, looked at the balls and at the hoop and then sheepishly rolled one of the balls away. "I know I can throw one through," he said, "but I ain't gonna try something I know I can't do. Might get hurt." One of Gervin's dunks was the "coiled snake," his whole right arm wrapped around the ball, uncoiling like a snake with the ball rolling down his arm and fingers. Kenon then turned in a "rim-shaker" and a flying baseline assault, but like Gervin he missed one dunk and was out of the running.
The Denver fans had seen Thompson work plenty of magic in the half season he had been there, and they wanted more from him now. The dunkers were being judged on artistry, innovativeness, body flow and crowd reaction, and Thompson naturally had 100% in the last department. For his compulsories, he slammed one ball with two hands backward from a standing start under the basket and made a high running windmill from the right and brought the ball from his waist, back behind his head slamming it down so hard that the force of the shot seemed to propel people from their seats.
Suddenly Dr. J looked worried and stared loosening up. Then David zoomed in from the left and tried a bank dunk -- he actually attempted to dunk the ball off the glass, but missed. His finale was a spectacular 360-degree midair miracle performed with Baryshnikovian perfection. The players leaped to their feet. "He is a mile high," shouted St. Louis' Marvin Barnes. "No, we're a mile high," said Lucas, remembering what city they were in. "He's two mile high." While everyone was screaming, the low-keyed Gilmore looked at his shoes and muttered, "Oh, no, Doc's in trouble."
Doc was not in trouble. When it was his turn, the rest of the players moved onto the court and sat cross-legged on the floor. The Doc coolly walked up to the basket with two balls and jammed them both backward behind his head. Wham! His compulsories done, he stood at the foul line, staring at the basket, then turned dramatically to pace off 10 long strides to the top of the foul circle at the other end of the court. He held the ball like a marble in his long fingers, took two quick steps and three antelope strides and he was airborne. His arm started a swift and powerful windmill, releasing the ball like a speeding particle from a cyclotron. The All-Stars were moaning. Only primitive, guttural sounds could be heard. "Hey, the Doc is the best ever," yelled Moe, who was happy because Erving had taken off two inches inside the foul line. "He moves like liquid Prell."
Dan Issel, Denver's center and one of the white players not invited to dunk, said, "Hey, this is nothing. Where are all the white guys? At the final buzzer of the game I'm going to be doing a trapeze act."
Erving was the unanimous winner. First runner-up Thompson was a little sorry he hadn't tried the "baby cradle." "Maybe I should have," he said, "but there's a 50-50 chance I might have missed it. And besides, it's dangerous."
The Doctor said his greatest dunking days were behind him ("My knees are only 75% of what they used to be"), but he didn't apologize for not trying the standing-rocking foul-line dunk. "There ain't enough rocking in the world for that," he said, adding that a great dunk shot was a time suspension, "an opportunity in a team sport for an individual to express himself in a memorable way. If you fly or hang in the air so long in a way that only you can do, it's a great rush. Like that commercial, 'There's nobody exactly like you.' Well, for just a split second I'm just that, and I don't think there's anybody who doesn't know it."
Except, perhaps, Issel, who performed his trapeze act as promised: a soaring dunk of an offensive rebound, the fifth "white dunk" of the game. That gave the Nuggets an eight-point lead with 1:17 left, and they held on for the win. Afterward Issel made an official announcement: "I hope that dunk impressed the slam-dunk selection committee enough so that I might be invited to compete for the designated dunker title next year. I want ... the Doctor."
Issue date: February 9, 1976
Click here for more on this story
By John Papanek
Issue date: February 9, 1976
You probably couldn't get Lloyd's of London to write a whole lot of long-term insurance on the American Basketball Association these days, but if the affair in Denver last week called the Ninth Annual All-Star Game was a dying man's last gasp, it came through as some very loud whoops and hollers. Contributing to the unfunereal gaiety were Charlie (Silver Fox) Rich and the Rhinestone Cowboy himself, Glen Campbell, imported by the host Nuggets to hype the gate with a two-hour pre-game concert. Also, the game itself was a cut or two above the normal All-Star fare. Acknowledging that the shrunken seven-team league could not be divided into two equal parts, the format pitted the front-running Nuggets against the best of the rest, and it turned out to be a very good game, won by the Nuggets 144-138. But beyond all that, those red, white and blue ball crazies came up with the greatest halftime invention since the rest room: the First Annual Slam-Dunk Contest.
One edge the ABA holds over the rival NBA is the planet's richest stable of slam-dunk artists, and for the occasion of this first ever slam-dunk competition, the league wheeled out five of its best. The first three contestants were Artis Gilmore, the Kentucky giant, and wispy George Gervin and long Larry Kenon, both of San Antonio. Those three could dunk, all right, but everybody knew that the contest would probably wind up as a shattering showdown between New York's Julius Erving, M.D. (Mr. Dunk) and Denver's amazing flying boy David Thompson, Ph.D., who has recently been rewriting the laws of gravity.
Dunk-shot artists can fly. They defy physics. In a game shortly before the All-Star break, Thompson was standing at the bottom of the dotted half of the foul circle -- seven feet from the basket -- with two defenders boxing him away from the offensive boards. When a missed shot came off the front of the rim, Thompson rose his normal nine feet off the floor and in one smooth motion speared the ball with his right hand, sent it screaming down through the rim and returned to earth at the same spot from which he took off. Isaac Newton, had he been at courtside, would have said what the 15,021 fans and sportswriters said: impossible. Yet the Rock Mountain News documented the historic event with an indisputable sequence of photographs.
The slam dunk has a strange effect on basketball people. They yell and they scream. They wail. They shake their heads and slap palms. They tear at each other's clothes. Among the true believers the prospect of seeing five super dunkers practice their sublime art was at least as enthralling as the game itself.
"David's had butterflies all week," reported Thompson's roommate, Monte Towe. "We've been trying to help him, tell him which of his dunks are the best."
"I'll just be David," said the rookie levitationalist.
Erving had spent 15 minutes in the locker room before the game, pantomiming his act, moving an imaginary ball around from behind his back and over his head in various hooks and pumps.
Rumors in McNichols Sports Arena were that Thompson would attempt his fabled "cradle the baby" dunk, in which he cradles the ball in the crook of his left elbow, goes high over the rim and punches the ball smartly through with his right fist. Erving, it was whispered, was going to try to dunk from a standing start at the foul line -- a distance of 15 feet -- by rocking his body back and forth until he achieved take-off momentum. That really is impossible, but Erving had made a $1,500 bet with Denver Assistant Coach Doug Moe that with a running start he could dunk from the foul line, a mean enough feat.
Diplomatically, Erving had asked the New York Nets' Kevin Loughery who coached the All-Stars, if maybe they shouldn't get a white player into the competition. "Well," said Loughery, "what white players know how to dunk?"
"Um," said Erving.
The rule required five dunks: two compulsory moves -- one from underneath the basket, the other from the bottom of the foul circle -- and three free-style -- one from the left, one from the right and one from the baseline. A four-man panel graded each dunk as if Dr. J et al. were so many figure skaters. Two extra backboards and rims were ready "in case somebody brings one down," and all the nondunking Nuggets and All-Stars were attentive when the five contestants were introduced. "That is a serious crew," said Kentucky's Maurice Lucas as Gilmore got ready to start the earth trembling.
Flamboyance is not Gilmore's style. "When I dunk, I try to make the ball stick to the floor," he says. With one ball in each hand, Gilmore sent himself up from underneath. Wham! Slam! The crowd went ohhh, as if it had just witnessed a terrible accident. The Nugget PA announcer cautioned the photographers who were lying on their backs underneath the basket: "Please back off, The Denver Nuggets fear for your lives." One of Gilmore's dunks, a ferocious left hook, was slightly off-center, and vibrated rapidly between the sides of the rim. "Yeah!" yelled Lucas. "A rub-in!"
Next came Gervin, called the Iceman. The 6'7" guard -- the only one in the contest -- looked shaken after Gilmore's performance. He approached the basket with two balls in his hands, looked at the balls and at the hoop and then sheepishly rolled one of the balls away. "I know I can throw one through," he said, "but I ain't gonna try something I know I can't do. Might get hurt." One of Gervin's dunks was the "coiled snake," his whole right arm wrapped around the ball, uncoiling like a snake with the ball rolling down his arm and fingers. Kenon then turned in a "rim-shaker" and a flying baseline assault, but like Gervin he missed one dunk and was out of the running.
The Denver fans had seen Thompson work plenty of magic in the half season he had been there, and they wanted more from him now. The dunkers were being judged on artistry, innovativeness, body flow and crowd reaction, and Thompson naturally had 100% in the last department. For his compulsories, he slammed one ball with two hands backward from a standing start under the basket and made a high running windmill from the right and brought the ball from his waist, back behind his head slamming it down so hard that the force of the shot seemed to propel people from their seats.
Suddenly Dr. J looked worried and stared loosening up. Then David zoomed in from the left and tried a bank dunk -- he actually attempted to dunk the ball off the glass, but missed. His finale was a spectacular 360-degree midair miracle performed with Baryshnikovian perfection. The players leaped to their feet. "He is a mile high," shouted St. Louis' Marvin Barnes. "No, we're a mile high," said Lucas, remembering what city they were in. "He's two mile high." While everyone was screaming, the low-keyed Gilmore looked at his shoes and muttered, "Oh, no, Doc's in trouble."
Doc was not in trouble. When it was his turn, the rest of the players moved onto the court and sat cross-legged on the floor. The Doc coolly walked up to the basket with two balls and jammed them both backward behind his head. Wham! His compulsories done, he stood at the foul line, staring at the basket, then turned dramatically to pace off 10 long strides to the top of the foul circle at the other end of the court. He held the ball like a marble in his long fingers, took two quick steps and three antelope strides and he was airborne. His arm started a swift and powerful windmill, releasing the ball like a speeding particle from a cyclotron. The All-Stars were moaning. Only primitive, guttural sounds could be heard. "Hey, the Doc is the best ever," yelled Moe, who was happy because Erving had taken off two inches inside the foul line. "He moves like liquid Prell."
Dan Issel, Denver's center and one of the white players not invited to dunk, said, "Hey, this is nothing. Where are all the white guys? At the final buzzer of the game I'm going to be doing a trapeze act."
Erving was the unanimous winner. First runner-up Thompson was a little sorry he hadn't tried the "baby cradle." "Maybe I should have," he said, "but there's a 50-50 chance I might have missed it. And besides, it's dangerous."
The Doctor said his greatest dunking days were behind him ("My knees are only 75% of what they used to be"), but he didn't apologize for not trying the standing-rocking foul-line dunk. "There ain't enough rocking in the world for that," he said, adding that a great dunk shot was a time suspension, "an opportunity in a team sport for an individual to express himself in a memorable way. If you fly or hang in the air so long in a way that only you can do, it's a great rush. Like that commercial, 'There's nobody exactly like you.' Well, for just a split second I'm just that, and I don't think there's anybody who doesn't know it."
Except, perhaps, Issel, who performed his trapeze act as promised: a soaring dunk of an offensive rebound, the fifth "white dunk" of the game. That gave the Nuggets an eight-point lead with 1:17 left, and they held on for the win. Afterward Issel made an official announcement: "I hope that dunk impressed the slam-dunk selection committee enough so that I might be invited to compete for the designated dunker title next year. I want ... the Doctor."
Issue date: February 9, 1976
Friday, February 9, 2007
My first reaction to the announcement of Wade Phillips as the 7th head coach of the Dallas Cowboys was a subdued negativism. I was hoping that they would decide on Mike Singletary but knew that was a long shot. I would have been fine with Mike as head coach, Commander Cody as QB coach, Wilbert as RB coach, Dennis Gentry as WR coach and our own Scott Smith as ST coach (the anti-Avezzano).
From the way it played out, I was thinking that the timing was weird due to (1) Jerry deciding to take his time; (2) Jerry wavering on his decision; or (3) the media totally mismanaging our expectations. I’m sure that all three possibilities played a role. As it was developing, I had a feeling that Jerry would announce Norv as the head coach with Ron Rivera as the DC and the combination of Jason and Tony Sparano as the OCs. I would have been satisfied with that structure, knowing that we would probably be losing at least one of the coordinators in the next year or so, had it worked.
But alas, it came down that they were naming Wade. I see the logic in it. The offense played fairly well this year and should improve with Romo taking over. Apparently, they are high on Sparano as an assistant and also coveted Jason. Clearly, this tandem does not have much of a track record, but they appear to be bright prospects.
The defense on the other hand was broken – despite the bulk of their personnel resources (with the glorious exception of TO) allocated to that side of the ball and the Tuna’s supposed expertise. They never seemed to be on the attack, and as the 2006 season progressed, OCs increasingly enjoyed isolating certain players in unfavorable situations – specifically the ILBs and Safeties.
Thus, Jerry’s mindset might have been that he needed to address the defense from a coaching perspective. Had he been able to land Rivera as a DC, then I think we would have Norvin. He likely felt that he had to hire someone with NFL head coaching experience - with an emphasis on D given - the young assistants on the staff and the fact that this is a talented playoff team. Taking a chance on a rookie HC is much easier to swallow coming off of a 3-13 season. But coming off an underachieving season punctuated by a disapointing playoff loss, this team's arrow should be pointing up and pushing deep into the playoffs for the next few years.
So the obvious choice is Wade. This is not a sexy pick in any manner. As I thought about the logic and listened to our new HC, I started to become intriguied. Although he runs a 3-4, he is very different from the Tuna. He is nice, unassuming, soft spoken and surprisingly witty. He moves players around, is aggressive and tries to take advantage of their strngths, as opposed to just telling guys to line up and beat the guy in front of you. When he mentioned Terrell, he made it clear that he would refer to #81 by name, an tact that was beneath the Glorified Gym Teacher from NJ. His offensive approach is to get the playmakers in a position to make plays and to get them the ball. I think we can all agree that there is genius in his simplicity.
Wade’s defensive resume is supposedly impressive. The Chargers are certainly explosive on that side of the ball (although we all know that LT probably ripped them for numerous bonus TDs during scrimmages, but that’s not a knock on anyone). Merriman has flourished under Wade (and who knows what chemical supplements), which would seem to bode well for DeMarcus.
Of course, with all of the talk of his defensive success, the anal part of my analytical background kicked in, and I did what I always do – I ran some numbers. Unfortunately, the data seems to indicate that Wade’s defenses have been resoundingly average. I looked at his team’s ranks in points and yards allowed. This data, which dates to his days as the DC for NO in 1981, includes when he was a HC and a DC.
Overall, he averaged a rank of 14.5 and 14.8 for points and yards, respectively. I’m not sure what to expect, but those numbers strike me as middle of the pack. If we consider just his DC positions, the ranks are 14.6 and 15.6. If we look at his teams since 2000, he sits at average ranks of 14.5 and 16.5. If we take it back to 95, he improves to 13.2 and 13.2. I guess my conclusion is that he is somewhat above average. Generally, the defenses improved in their ranks from the years immediately before he coached there, but they tend to fluctuate while he’s on staff.
I do think his work at SD has been impressive, taking a team that ranked 31 and 27 in 2003 to 11-18 in 2004, 13-13 in 2005 and 7-10 in 2006. The Chargers have averaged a very respectable 10.3-13.7 under his guidance.
In addition, I don’t put too much emphasis on his head coaching record, especially with regard to the post season. He seems to win at an above-average rate but has had no success in the playoffs. His regular season record is admirable, and I think his lack of success in the playoffs is circumstancial. Consider that his Buffalo teams were lead by Doug Flutie and Rob Johnson at QB and Antowain Smith and Shawn Bryson at RB. Eric Moulds seemed to emerge during his Wade’s tenure there. At Denver, he did have Elway, but his top RBs were ROD BERNSTEIN and LEONARD RUSSEL for pete’s sake. Shannon Sharpe flourished, but the primary outside weapons were Glyn Milburn and Derek Russell.
The key I think is that we need someone to get him talent, which we should all acknowledge as a universal truth. Also, you have to have a soft spot for Bum.
Extracurricular note: (per IMDB) Tracy Phillips is the daughter of NFL head coach Wade Phillips. She is an actress and burlesque dancer living in Southern California. Her most famous work yet was playing Helena in My Chemical Romance's "Helena" music video. Other artists whose music videos she has appeared in include No Doubt, the Goo Goo Dolls, Ricky Martin, and The Offspring. She is one of the four dancers wearing black in Evanescence's "Call Me When You're Sober" music video. Tracey has also done commercials for Pepsi and GAP. She has appeared in such films as What Women Want, Clerks 2, and Jackass Number Two.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
A New Era ( Thank Jesus)
Well, there certainly has been a lot going on the past week or so- Michael getting elected into the HOF- Finally ( now we need Bob Hayes to follow suit along with about 15 other Cowboys), National Signing day featuring Noel Devine http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6uVzm_hKd2Y, and Wade Phillips being named the Head Coach of our beloved Heroes, officially nailing Fupa's coffin and waddling that worthless cocksucker out the door. Is Wade Phillips an exciting, sexy candidate? Absolutely not. But was Norv Turner? Jim Caldwell? Tony Sparano? Who really is in this day and age? There are maybe four really good coaches in the NFL- Belichick, Reid, Dungy, and Fisher. Lovie and Mangini definitely have potential, but let's see two more good years out of both of them. Who else? Schottenheimer? Please. Herm Edwards? Most overrated coach in football. Chuckie Gruden? Dick Jauron? Tom Coughlin? My point is that if you are going to go the recycled route, Wade is as good as any of them. He is a drinking buddy of Jerry's that knows a lot about Defense and personally nurtured Shawne, Jamal, Quentin, and Terrance. That is good enough for me. Will he win a Super Bowl? Probably not. Do you think Norv Turner would?
Phillips has a shitload of experience and has had a lot of success with his defenses. This can't be argued. He is from Orange, Tx. which is hard, and he personally weened Earl Campbell while the Tyler Rose was toting the rock for the Oilers, so this is good also. All of those really good Bronco and Bills defenses in the late 80's t0 mid 90's? Wade's. Plus, his dad is Bum who is borderline Amps. He was sitting on the side of the press conference with his buzz cut and a dip in and the guy is at least 80 years old. That has to get some commendation. Ampy had a good point a couple of weeks ago when he pointed out that maybe I was just a little bit too excited because I was so happy that Fupa was leaving. He is most likely ( as usual ) right. But I have been waiting for 4 years to enjoy my moment in the sun ( and to quote Al Bundy that is asking a lot from the sun), so I will continue whistling zippity doo dah for the next year. I'm not sure that Jason Garrett will be that great, but he will do just as well as Norv Turner. Please. Although Norv did suckle Franklin into fruition this season- which obviously holds an important place in my heart- I still think Wade will be better. As much as the media criticizes Jerry, you can't doubt his committment to delivering a winner. He may be too eccentric and want to stick his nose into everyone's business- but it is his team. Jerry is always going to do that. Mickey Spagnola is always going to do pre season games. Sean Hannity is always going to be annoying. Lisa Law's pussy is always going to stink. You just can't change inherent qualities about people. You just can't. I think it is important that we all cherish this moment- the moment that officially signs off on the Fupa era. Nothing could make me happier- unless Noel Devine and St. Matthew show up with stars on their helmets in the next 2-3 years. For your viewing pleasure, I have included a utube video of Noel running wild in Florida High School football. I have also included a glorious photo of him at the front of the schedule. Thanks to everyone for contributing to Ampsnation, let's keep up the good work.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Thursday, February 1, 2007
The Captain
Provisions in revised Bonds deal holding up process
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Associated Press
NEW YORK -- Barry Bonds' contract with the San Francisco Giants isn't final just yet. After the commissioner's office rejected Bonds' $15.8 million, one-year deal because it contained a personal-appearance provision, the team sent revised documents to his agent, Jeff Borris.
"At this time, Barry is not signing the new documents," Borris said.
Monday, January 29, 2007
In Memoriam
Dear Beloved Baby,
I, for one, will never, ever forget your spectacular backstretch gallop at Churchill Downs, when you shot past the field by 17 lengths and awakened the ghost of Secretariat.
Even Jesse Owens must have wept when he saw it.
Tonight, my daughters and I are grieving.
You were the real deal: No attitude. No roids. No looking back. Just an extraordinary gift of God.
Rest in Peace, Champion. We love you.
Checking In
Hello Amps Nation,
The pro scouts are comparing me to Big Dick but say I'm actually bigger, faster, and stronger. Someday, I hope to approach Eric's records, but for now, I just hope you'll enjoy my high school football card. Mike Martz certainly does.
See you on Sundays!
AP
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