So unless you’ve been living trapped beneath Charlie Weis’ fleshy, ample backside, surviving on small pockets of trapped air and renegade Cheetos that were feared lost forever, you already know the big news of the past week: there’s a new head footballl coach at Kansas University.
And if you’re like me, you spent yesterday glued to your Twitter feed, as 10 different local sports talk personalities Tweeted the same lines from his lengthy press conference. Alright, so that’s only a half-truth. I went back afterwards and read them all, however, and managed to learn the same things over and over again.
“Charlie Weis enters the room.”
I’m on the edge of my seat… my ever-so-slightly quaking seat.
“Weis has entered. Using a cane. Bad hip and knee #kufball”
Apparently, the “Rascal-Mobility-Scooter ramp request” was not met. Strike one, Dr. Zenger. He’s going to hold this against you when he rolls out of town in another year and a half.
“Zenger: "I set out to find the best, and I found Charlie Weis."
Yeah… I’m not sure how much searching that actually took. Kind of hard to miss. And then it got super-repetitive (sort of like my admittedly worn out "Weis-is-fat" jokes).
“Weis: Yes, I need a hip replaced”
@Leabonics (Todd Leabo, 810)
“Weis: "I need my hip replaced, still suffering from a sideline hit in 2008" #kufball”
“Weis opens with a smile, "Yes, yes, I need my hip replaced."
But THEN what happened?
“Weis: daughter has never been happier than in FLA”
“#weis speaking about his special needs daughter… says she is very happy at her school in Florida. #kufball”
“Weis opens by talking about his special needs daughter, Hannah. Says it was in Florida, where Hannah was truly happy for the first time…”
“A whole lot of info on Weis’ daughter. Culminating in finding out Weis’ wife and daughter will stay in Ocala endless flights back & forth”
So wait a minute: let me get this straight, 15 guys from two stations covering the exact same event and saying the exact same things—is his special needs daughter happy in Florida?
Look, I get it. This is a big deal. The one-time New England Patriots’ hero, Notre Dame goat and Kansas City Chief-and-Florida-deserter is a big-name get for KU football. The biggest that I ever remember, certainly. But does that really mean that we need multiple people from a very small number of outlets repeating one another? Can’t we impose some sort of moratorium on how many people get invited to press conferences or something? I know, I know… that’s not the way modern media coverage works. But it would be nice if someone simply strived for individuality in that setting. But I digress.
So, according to their Tweets, I also learned that:
Charlie Jr. (not really his name) is transferring to KU.
Daughter and wife will get unlimited private plane trips to visit papa.
Weis wants us all to remember that he was groomed under Parcels AND Belichick.
He talks to lunch ladies when he’s recruiting.
He hopes to be at KU until he’s done coaching.
Weis never got his coaching staff right at Notre Dame.
He ain’t mad at Matt Cassel.
His number one priority in Lawrence?
Find an Old Country Buffet. Fix the record.
Ladies and Jayhawks, your new head football coach, Charles Weis. Oh, but wait: what did Danny “I’m a Completely Negative, Insufferable Asshole Who Never Has Anything Positive to Say Ever” Clinkscale think?
“All in all, kind of contradictory, kind of awkward, sometimes OK, certainly nothing to be that enthused about #Weis”
You must be a real fucking blast to hang out with, Danny.
Oh, and it wouldn’t be a Tales from the Tweet without one really bad Bob Fescoe “joke”.
“There is NO TRUTH to the rumor that Todd Haley will be the OC at ku.”
To his credit, however—and believe me, it pains me to give him credit for ANYTHING other than being a nauseating hack—Bob-o was stating that Weis was the guy early on December 8th, a solid 6 or so hours before anyone else was reporting it. What’s that saying about the sun shining on a dog’s ass? Yeah, that one.
I don’t know if Weis is the right signing, or even a good signing, but I hope this works out for Kansas. The Big XXII—or the remnants thereof—is more entertaining when everyone’s firing on all cylinders and there’s competition to be had. If anything, it boosted KU season ticket sales and got people talking. Not always glowingly, but talking nonetheless. And as we at KCConfidential know, any publicity is good publicity (#Splitorff#Harman#Jardines).
The other big story of the week—haha, “big”—was the gargantuan contract of Fort Osage’s own Albert Pujols. After intense negotiations with Jeffrey Loria—the suddenly bat-shit crazy, freewheeling owner of the Miami Marlins—Pujols elected to take his talents to Anaheim. Or Los Angeles. Or wherever the hell it is that the Angels play. He’ll make a little money for signing with the Halo’s, too, it would appear.
“With new contract, Pujols will make $68,493 per day. The average 6-person household in California makes $63,125 a year.”
@JeffEisenberg (Yahoo! Sports blogger)
“Great stat from the LA Times: Pujols’ contract is worth almost $70 million more than the $183 million Arte Moreno paid for the team in 2003.”
“Angels signed Wilson & Pujols for $327.5M. KC, TB, PIT, SD, CLE, ARI and FLA owed a combined $327.8M to their opening day rosters for 2011.”
$68,000 a day. I just… man. I don’t know. When millions and millions of Americans are scraping together spare change from their ashtray in order to buy their Grande Pumpkin latte from Starbucks, and the car behind them is honking because it’s taking too long, and they’re just now realizing that they left their flash drive with the earning-report presentation on the breakfast nook… it’s sickening. But I do not fault Pujols, nor will I spend too long laughing at the misery of St. Louis Cardinal fans. Royals blogger Rany Jazayerli makes a very astute point:
“Royals fans, don’t spend too much schadenfreude on the Cards right now. We’ll be going through the same thing with Eric Hosmer in Dec. 2017.”
And you know what? He’s right. But if between now and that cold, miserable offseason six years from now, I’ve been treated to two World Series Championships and a multitude of MVP caliber campaigns, I won’t bitch. Seriously.
This was a poor signing, though, in my opinion. And I know that sounds nuts, but all sorts of stat-machines and advanced metric calculations give good indication that Pujols is sliding downward as we speak. And yeah, he’s still one of the best players in baseball, but for how long? Will he be worth over $20,000,000 per year 5 years from now? I really, truly think it’s doubtful. You know, because of those baseball-science-wizards with their theorems and statistical-probability-calculations. I’m a man of science, goddamnit. Oh, and I also believe that Pujols is probably older than we think he is. Oops!
Elsewhere in the Hot Stove, things continued to cook. The Marlins landed a pitcher I wouldn’t have minded seeing the Royals go after, and the Diamondbacks landed a different pitcher who I would have given my left arm to see the Royals procure in a trade.
@jaysonst (Jayson Stark, ESPN)
“#Marlins agree to 4-year $58 million deal with Mark Buehrle. More to come at RSPN.com”
@jcrasnick (Jerry Crasnick, ESPN, Baseball America)
“Trevor Cahill has just received word he’s been traded to #Dbacks. Not sure about rest of trade yet”
Buehrle is old, but a workhorse, and despite last year’s uncharacteristically off campaign, I think he’s still got gas in his tank. $14.5 million per year is pretty pricy, but nothing’s coming cheap these days.
Cahill is young and outstanding. He’s 23, has a career record of 40-35 (40 wins at 23 in this day and age is pretty freaking amazing) and the owner of career 3.91 ERA. The Diamondbacks are going to be very happy with this kid for a number of years, and it’s a shame the Royals—who expressed interest, according to talk around the Winter Meetings—couldn’t put together a better package. The Athletics didn’t get a ton in return, which either means that A) general manger Billy Beane is losing his marbles or B) he knows something about Cahill that nobody else does.
Speculation had it that the A’s wanted can’t-miss-Royals-prospect Wil Myers as part of any potential deal. Honestly, I’m glad I’m not Dayton Moore in this situation. I think that’s an insanely tough call. My bowels are quivering and there’s a fine sheen or perspiration breaking out on my forehead just thinking about it.
Hey, speaking of Wil Myers:
“Last day being 20 years old!”
1) Jesus Christ, I’m old.
2) Happy birthday, sport.
And finally, thankfully, it’s totally, completely official:
@Buster_ESPN (Buster Olney, ESPN)
“Manny Ramirez has officially been reinstated by MLB from the voluntary retirement list.”
Sweet beans and collard green, hallelujah and rejoice baseball fans! Dust off that dreadlock wig, your Tampa Bay Rays Ramirez jersey, your Mannywood sign and that poster you drew with the syringe going into a crudely rendered butt, Manny Freaking Ramirez is back. Fathers, lock up your daughters (he might hit them), and doctors, hide your prescription pads (he’ll probably use them to get weird, pregnancy drugs that make his muscles bigger).
Someone will probably take a flier on this washed-up, has-been. To that as-of-yet-unnamed team, I say: idiots.
Speaking of PEDs, upsetting news broke late on Saturday night:
“Ryan Braun tests positive for PED.”
“If Braun is innocent, he suffers now because of all the lies that came before him. The court of public opinion has hardened on this subject.”
Let’s get real: he’s as guilty as a cock in the hen-house. We all know it. It’s just too bad. You root for the good-guys, the ones who don’t look like they’re living in a weight-room, gobbling up steroids (or HGH, or synthetic testosterone, or bull-sperm, or whatever) and concealing their bacne with copious amounts of Maybelline. I really, truly thought that Braun—last year’s NL MVP—was different.
Fuck me for being a baseball fan. You can’t win for losing these days. Everybody cheats, apparently. You’re taking steroids, I’m taking steroids… to be honest, Buster Olney’s post on this story came up *might-y* quick. I’m not saying anything… I’m just SAYING. This sucks.
Now I’m dissident.
Let’s close this out by thinking about better times. 1989, Joplin, MO, to be exact. A little bar called the Double Deuce.
“What was the best line from Road House?….Almost impossible to choose.”
No it’s not. Cinema has never produced a better line than Dalton’s declarative statement while being stitched up: “Pain don’t hurt.”
Well, unless you’re a Milwaukee Brewers’ fan, I guess.
I’m off to finish my Christmas shopping. First stop? Thrift store. I hope everyone in my family likes gently-used Hickory Farms gift sets and chipped porcelain angel figurines. Yep, it’s gonna be THAT kinda Christmas.