Dropping Knowledge...

...and Balls.

Forrest Gump introduced the phrase "stupid is as stupid does" into our popular lexicon in 1994.

[EARLY SIDE NOTE: START]

Can you believe that movie came out 15 years ago? One-Five. Think about that for a second...

What were you doing 15 years ago? I'll offer a quick musical interlude while you ponder.

INTERLUDE: "My restlessness is my nemesis: It's hard to really chill and sit still, committed to page...I write rhymes, sometimes won't finish for days..."

Unbelievable, huh?

That knock on my door is Dr. JellyFinger letting me know after another 15 years he'll be my new best friend.

And my Valentine.

[EARLY SIDE NOTE: END]

The most innovative aspect of that famous phrase is it personifies stupid. And by "personifies" I don't mean Forrest Gump saying it personifies the definition of "stupid."

What I mean is this: Just as Tom Hanks gave the character Forrest Gump a face that famous phrase gives the word stupid a face. Because of that little quip, the word is removed from the abstract world and transferred to the concrete world giving us a sense of "stupid" that we can feel. One that we can touch.

But please keep your hands to yourself.

The phrase also provides some additional insight into the world that is stupidity. It let's us know that intelligence does not preclude stupidity.

Even Mensa members can be stupid, dear readers.

I see some hands up in the back and, while I'm pretty sure I know what you're going to ask, I'll allow one question.

Q: "Why, O, why are you breaking down 'stupid' for us. What's the angle, Sports & Thoughts?"

Good question.

First, I think we're close enough for you to call me "s&t." "Mr. Sports & Thoughts" works pretty well, too. Or just "Daddy." However, if you're calling me "Daddy" we'd have to discuss safety words. And I'm not ready to take this relationship to that level.

The Gimp Mask scares me.

Second, I wanted you all to know that I understand smart people can do & say very stupid things. And in my circle of family & friends, when you say something stupid, you're held accountable for it.

Time for accountability.

March's Stupidest Thing Said Award goes to Peter King. I love listening to Peter talk football but he should have had a few more Mocha Lattes before his WEEI interview last week when he uttered this little gem while speaking about Terrell Owens landing in Buffalo: "Take away all the dropped balls and T.O. is still one of the best in the game today."

Um, what?

The idiocy of that comment is painfully obvious. Last I checked, T.O. is a wide receiver. In fact, he's a PROFESSIONAL WIDE RECEIVER in the NFL. His job description is simple: catch the ball. A receiver who drops too many balls is, by definition, a failure.

Sure, he needs to block every now and again. But no one signs a wide receiver with stone hands and extraordinary blocking skills. I'm willing to guess that Buffalo didn't sign T.O. so he could help with their running game.

Would MJ have been "one of the best" if the missed all those jumpers?

The game winner at North Carolina? The Playoff winner against Cleveland? The Finals winner against The Jazz? Michael was great because he did his job which, simply enough, was to make shots. Not only that, Micheal made shots when the pressure was at it's highest and the stage it's biggest.

That's how Micheal transcended his sport and became MJ. He earned it.

How can T.O. be "one of the best" if he drops the ball so much?

Easy answer: he can't. And, more importantly, anyone who pays attention to Terrell's performance on the field instead of the smoke-and-mirrors side show that is T.O. knows he ISN'T one of the best.

And he never will be.

If dropped balls didn't matter, the phrase wouldn't be part of our lexicon as being synonymous with failure. When you say, "Sorry boss. I dropped the ball" you don't hear back, "That's ok. You're one of the greatest anyway."

Duh.

What's that, dear readers? You think I'm being too hard on T.O. -- I'm focusing too much on dropped balls?

Ok, let's dig a little deeper and look at some numbers to support why T.O. isn't great:

-- T.O. owns the league lead in drops over the past two seasons. (The wide receiver in second place has 7 LESS drops)

-- T.O.'s lifetime playoff record is 4-7 (Of the 4 wins, 3 have come in the Wild Card round)

-- Since leaving the 49'ers, T.O. has not won a playoff game (The Eagles won 2 Playoff games in '04 with an injured T.O. on the sideline)

-- Cowboys were 0-2 in the Playoffs with T.O. on the field

-- T.O.'s combined stats in those losses: 6 receptions/75 yards

People lie, folks. Numbers don't.

It's simple: T.O. doesn't do his job well enough enough of the time. He drops too many balls. He's too selfish. He's too much T.O.

As I said in my previous blog, no one has turned a team sport into a me game more than T.O. After watching my Patriots beat his Eagles in the Super Bowl, I listened to T.O. talk about how it wasn't his fault. "No one gave me a chance" he said. "Donovan was throwing up in the huddle" he said. He actually inferred that "God" had healed him fast so he could showcase his skills on the stage that is the Super Bowl.

Greatness, indeed.

His agent can grandstand and his PR folks can use spin control but neither change the fact that Terrell doesn't measure up to the arbitrary greatest of the marketing machine creation that has become T.O.

Peter King may have fallen for it but I'm not. And neither should you.

The tragedy is Terrell had a real chance to be great. In '00 and '01, Terrell had consecutive 1,400+ yard seasons. Only 2 other receivers have accomplished that feat -- Rice and Harrison. Both are first ballot Hall of Famers. T.O. had a chance to be the third.

Too bad he dropped the ball.

The Morning After: Ralph J. Holden Tribute

A small man -- in a smaller city -- making a big impact.
Very few people outside Rhode Island are aware that Central Falls even exists. Covering one square mile, Central Falls is the smallest city in the smallest state in the Union. Affectionately referred to as "CF", it's so small that you can drive through the city down Broad St. in approximately 3 minutes! (It may take you a whopping 5 minutes if you catch a few lights.)

Being such a small city does have it's advantages. When you're small you can keep things simple. You're not clouded by infinite choices. You can focus on one thing and try and do it extremely well. For example, Central Falls is home to an iconic Rhode Island establishment: Stanley's Hamburgers.

Best. Hamburgers. Ever.

But, in a place where focus is critical to success, the opportunities that benefit from said focus are limited. And, in CF, positive opportunities are nearly non-existent. Central Falls became a prime hub for cocaine trafficking throughout the 80's and 90's which earned it the unenviable nickname "Sparkle City."

Don't believe it? Just ask Providence's notorious ex-mayor: Buddy Cianci. Buddy was so cavalier that his private car was commonly found on the streets of CF during his political career with him in the backseat.

Central Falls: the embodiment of a double-edged sword.

Growing up in Central Falls provided very few options to spend your free time if you were trying to avoid the cocaine trade. You really only had 2 choices: Academics or Athletics. Both helped you punch a ticket to "get out" and one was usually a means to get closer to the other.

I started this blog by saying "Very few people outside Rhode Island are aware that Central Falls even exists." Well, even fewer are aware of the importance that youth sports had in the city. And if you were involved in youth athletics around CF in the early 80's and 90's there was one man who you knew, respected and, in most cases, loved like a father: Ralph Holden.

Ralph was a Central Falls native stricken with Polio during the height of it's epidemic in the 1950's. While he never lost the use of his limbs, Ralph's physical development was limited resulting in a hunchback physique preventing him from ever playing organized sports.

But his love for sports could not be broken by a crooked back. Ralph wanted sports to be part of his life -- and he did all he could to ensure that they would be. He focused on school and eventually earned a degree in Physical Education. He finally worked his way to become the Athletic Director of the Central Falls Community Center.

And that is where Ralph's legacy was born.

It was called the "Club." Every teenager growing up in CF during the 80's and 90's considered the Club their home away from home. The kids were the bricks. Ralph was the mortar.

Ralph never used his physical deficiencies as an excuse. Obstacles were a daily part of Ralph's life. But overcoming each made his victories that much sweeter. For example, simple things like driving were difficult -- but not impossible.

Ralph had a mechanic fabricate longer gas and brake pedals so he could reach them. His steering wheel had a circular handle attached to it so he could turn the wheel with one hand. Ralph would sit on a few pillows so his hunch arm could lean out the window while he would turn the wheel with his good hand. It could be 15 degrees out and snowing but Ralph's midnight-blue Oldsmobile would have the driver side window open and the heat on full blast.

Ralph Holden's perseverance in life translated to his coaching. He wouldn't allow us kids to fall into self pity. He taught us that growing up poor in Central Falls was an opportunity. It would help us learn to appreciate our victories more than our opponents did.

His coaching style was brash and his temper legendary. He didn't tolerate laziness or disrespectful behavior toward another player, coach or referee. And his love for us "kids" was palpable and enduring.

Even as we all grew up and moved up and out of Central Falls, you would still find Ralph standing in the corner of whatever gymnasium one of us "kids" happened to be playing in -- scribbling in his notepad prepping for a post game "review."

Ralph Holden passed away on March 12, 1998. The "Club" was renamed the Ralph J. Holden Community Center as a tribute to the man who served as the caretaker for the building and those who spent their free time playing sports in it.

Ralph was widely referred to as "Ralphie-Baby" by the legions of youngsters who viewed him more as a surrogate father than a coach. And, as we all know, a father's job is to keep his girl off the pole and his son off the streets -- Ralph did just that.

His daily struggles served as an example that you're life is what you make of it. Where some see obstacles, others see opportunity. Ralph created a sense of family between his players that no other coach this former athlete has known could replicate. The same kids I grew up with in the 80's are still my best friends today. At full strength we're about 25 deep. Regardless of the sport, we were never a team -- we were always a family.

And we always will be.

Thanks, Ralphie-Baby.
-------------------
The Big Question
-------------------
Lots of people had their hands in creating my special kind of craziness, dear readers. So this week's Big Q is pretty straightforward:
Q: Outside of your parents/folks who raised you, who influenced your childhood the most?
Give credit where credit is due. Or, in this case, throw some blame around.

Whatever works.

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Quick Thinking
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-- Memo to my Alma Mata: You can't lose by 18 at a neutral site during your nationally televised conference tournament and expect an invite to go dancing.

-- I'm tired of people who think they know everything about Rhode Island just because they watch Family Guy.

-- While living in Colorado I was asked the following question by an acquaintance when he found out I grew up in RI, "Did you have a talking dog like on Family Guy?" I'm pretty sure he was trying to be funny.

-- Needless to say, I didn't laugh. Not even a little bit.

-- ARods "handlers" are clearly asleep at the wheel.

-- Bernie Madoff is 2009's version of Martin Chuzzlewitt. Proof positive that truth, indeed, is stranger than fiction.

-- Question of the Week: What would all the angry people in the world be doing without internet chat rooms? (answer below)

-- Memo to Mr. Cutler: You're not good enough to be a prima donna. Do us all a favor, stop reading T.O.'s How To Turn A Team Game Into A Me Sport handbook and do your job. Idiot.

-- Sage Advice of the Week: Stop using toilet paper and start using wet wipes. You wouldn't clean shit off your floor with a dry paper towel would you? Just because we're adults doesn't me we can't enjoy in the splendor that is a touchable soft bum.

-- I'm not sure how I survived all those years without my iPhone and the free internet radio application Pandora. Wish I would have paid more attention to relationship algorithms in math class.

-- It recently occurred to me that amateurs who can't dunk are more impressed with the Gimmick Dunk (a la Spud Webb) than the Theatrical Dunk (a la 'Nique.)

-- Memo to all those napoleon complex steroid heads out there: benching 325 isn't going to make you any taller.

-- The twig isn't bigger, fellas. The berries are just smaller.

-- Oh, and a booster seat in a $ 150,000 sports car is still a booster seat.

-- But let's not argue. Put the weights down, stop flexing and look on the bright side: shopping at Gap Kids saves money during these difficult economic times.

-- So does eating from the Kids Menu.

-- And legroom during air travel is easier to come by.

-- And you'll never be asked, "Hey, can you reach that for me?"

-- That gunshot you just heard? Me killing that joke. R.I.P.

-- Please bow your head for a short moment of silence.

-- BLAMMO!

-- Based on how well his movies usually do at the box office, I'm starting to think I'm the only person in the country who doesn't like Nicholas Cage.

-- Memo to Coach K: I understand you coached Team USA to a gold medal and all, but he's the Commander-in-Chief of the most powerful military force in the world. You know what they say about tugging on Superman's cape...

-- My guess is expecting an invite to the Big Dance only to get one to the NIT is a lot like thinking the girl with the sexy voice on the other end of the phone looks like:



-- Only to meet her and find out she looks like:



-- Love finding excuses to work Ms. Anniston into anything I write.

-- PC and URI played their way out of the NCAA Tournament.

-- Truth be told, neither team is talented enough for elite competition anyway. But they're both close.

-- Real close.

-- As a card carrying member of the Man Club I'm officially revoking Jay Cutler's membership.

-- There's no truth to the rumor that the tequila shots ARod admittedly had to "loosen up" before his recent Details shoot were served in a syringe.

-- If the Patriots sign Julius Peppers AND stay healthy then they're cement to win the Super Bowl. CEMENT.

-- Speaking of which, it's never too early to start contemplating your record for the 2009-2010 Patriots Pick Pool!

-- Kid CuDi's single "Day N Nite" is absolutely hypnotic.

-- The remix isn't that bad either.

-- What came first: computers or computer geeks?

-- Memo to ARod: You can't wear a sleeveless shirt and invite the world to your "gun show" if you're trying to convince us that you're NOT taking steroids anymore.



-- As a matter of fact, even if you WEREN'T trying to convince the world you're clean, you can't take pictures like that. Ever.

-- Memo to those naive folks who think ARod is now clean: you're not naive, you're stupid. Get your head checked.

-- Answer of the Week: Buy a car and drive around Rhode Island all day.

-- After much deliberation, I've decided Green Clovers are my favorite Lucky Charms marshmallows.

-- Pink diamonds are a close second.