Turd of the Week (#29)

	Turd of the Week
9/04/99

Make up your own punchline ...

They won't have Nixon to kick around anymore: Sporting News columnist Jerry Trecker retired last week. First Logan, now Trecker. TotW is running out of targets ... Nah.

Bringing the Z-Team? Brazil and and eleven other countries are currently taking part in the Bangabandhu Cup in Dhaka, Bangladesh. It will be Brazil's third major tournament of the summer. Singapore, Laos and Vietnam slinked out before the tourney began, though TotW is sure they would be more than willing to be Asia's fifth at WC'02. No word if the Bangabandhu loser gets death by bunji-bunji.^*

Logan may be gone, but the spin has not ceased: I swear to God, MLs said the battle of the titans between Miami and Kansas City was "a game with serious playoff implications." Honest. Really. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. (If I was blind I wouldn't have to actually watch the match.)

Shady deal would make Doug Logan proud: Midfielder Brian Haynes, on one-week loan from the Dallas Burn, played the full 90 minutes for the A-League Milwaukee Rampage against the Seattle Sounders. Haynes is not a Dallas reserve, but one of Dallas coach Dave Dir's top subs. Haynes, however, was also serving an MLs red card suspension. One can imagine the conversation as Cordoba, an assistant in Dallas two years ago, called Dir for help: "Hello, this is Coach Dir." *sobbing* "Cacho, is that you?" "Si. I promise to bring attacking football to Milwaukee. I fail. I shake up team. It do no good. It just get worse." "Listen, mi amigo, if I can wave a magic wand over New England, maybe we can work something out. I have this midfielder who needs some minutes ... " And the rest is history: a 0:2 loss. Stay tuned for next week's episode of "As the Rampage Churn", wherein Cordoba calls another former employer, Miami, to acquire gimp striker Eric Wynalda:

"As the Rampage Churn"

Actual script excerpt, stolen by the same folks that brought you early highlights from "The Phantom Menace"

Wynalda in leather being butt-stroked by large black guy.
Cell phone rings, we hear Cordoba's voice on line:
"Bring out the gimp."
Fade in surf music.

Blessed are the sinful: Ronald Cerritos, Dingleberry of the Week, for scoring the 90th minute equalizer to send San Jose into a crapshoot against the RotMasters. First, we all know that San Jose is synonymous with crapshoot, but what on Earth, dear Lord, have we done to offend ye, that ye subjecteth thy flock to two RotMasters crapshoots in two consecutive weeks? Verily, I say unto thee, slaughter a lamb (or a Salvadoran forward) and spread its blood across thy threshhold for the avenging angel Logan is upon us!

All things are relative: "Maybe they'll end up next-to-last with me. That would be a success, too." German defender Lothar Matthãus, recent RotMasters signing. The RotMasters are currently last place in MLs.

Quote of the Week: Patrick J. Ward wrote to a national publication asking "... where is this wellspring of marketing and exposure we're supposed to be seeing from our new commissioner? I hope you get the chance to come to Columbus to see a game in the new stadium before the league folds and the stadium becomes the largest flea-market in Ohio. It really is a pretty nice facility." Read on Pat, read on ...

Gob of the Week: Charleston Battery forward Ivailo Ilarionov is currently sitting out three A-League matches (though not the US Open Cup semifinal). It's the result of a big misunderstanding. You see, we got these big alien critter mosquitos down here (pronounced as a 2 syllable word, "He-aw" by US Senator Strom Thrumond) and Ivo noticed an opponent with one these mutants firmly latched onto his eyebrow. Being a courteous young man from the old country (Bulgaria), he thought the sporting thing to do would be to remove it. However, knowing that swatting at it would appear as if he were throwing a punch, he did the next best thing -- he spat on it. Well, I think you get the picture. He figured since he wasn't in Italy or South America, people would understand it wasn't an insult. But alas, the refs blew another call and showed him the big red one. (Jim Gregory, TotW Bribe Taker)

Home away from home: The Scottish Football Association (SFA) warned supporters about the dangers of travelling to Bosnia for the team's Euro 2000, explaining " ... there are still unexploded bombs lying around in Bosnia." No different than playing Nortern Ireland then.

Cacho Go-Home-A: The El Paso 86ers deep-sixed Milwaukee Rampage playoff hopes by defeating them 4:0 to gain maximum points and overtake the Rampage for the eighth and final A-League Western Conference playoff spot. The 86ers lead the Rampage by a point with two games remaining. A few weeks ago, TotW unfairly disparaged the quality of Vanuatu's national team, going so far as to suggest the RotMasters might actually beat them. TotW humbly and sincerely apologizes to the good people of Vanuatu. The RotMasters are the lesser side, but no matter how bad one's own situation gets, there is always someone, somewhere, who has it worse. Yes, the RotMasters would most likely beat the Rampage. In Japan they fall on their swords, literally, over crap like this. TotW would just settle for Argentinian coach Cacho Cordoba going home-a.

Christ, I can smell it from here: The sordid depth of the the Baicher-Jair trade is only now coming to light, and only in small offhand snippets that are individually insignificant, but put together form a coherent and fishy whole. Remember, Jair is a 20-something midfielder who, on those rare occasions when he wasn't injured, plied his trade for the inept NE Revolution, owned by Robert 'All My Teams Suck' Kraft. Remember also, Jeff Baicher is a still effective 30-something midfielder, who until a few weeks ago played for the putrid San Jose Clash, coached by David Bowie's long lost twin, Brian Quinn; owned (or so we were led to believe) by Robert 'My Kids Look Like the Mailman' Kraft; run by Kraft's teat-sucking brood; and managed by his butt buddy Renato Capobianco. Of course when Baicher and Jair were traded for each other everything didn't appear on the up-and-up. Can you say "Writing off the Clash?" Yes, I knew you could. Naturally, Jair celebrated the trade by spraining his ankle. The Revolution celebrated by edging the Vanuatu reserves ... I mean the RotMasters ... in a crapshoot. Does the story end there? Of course not, remember the aforementioned snippets? (Think it will end here? Probably not, either.) You see, Robert 'I Had Sex With Everyone in San Jose' Kraft does not actually own the Clash! Yes, you heard right: MLs allowed Kraft to trade a good player from a team he does not own, for a crappy player on a team he does own. Worse yet, he hasn't even closed on the deal! Didn't Michael Millken go to prison for something like that? Shouldn't some 300-pound tattooed transvestite be turning Kraft inside out about now?

^*Death by Bunji-Bunji

A pilot, sailor and Marine were walking through a jungle when they were captured by bloodthirsty natives. The natives trussed 'em up and hauled them away to a horrible fate at their village deep in the jungle. There the tribe gathered around to see what befell the hapless trio. The chief stepped forth from his hut and asked the pilot what he preferred, death or bunji-bunji?

Pilots are pretty smart, and he figured anything is better than death, so he said "Bunji-Bunji!" The tribe started hooting and hollering, then they all bent him over and fucked him in the ass.

The chief then turned to the sailor and asked him if he preferred death or bunji-bunji. We all know sailors are a little light in the loafers, so of course the sailor lisped, "Bunjeee-Bunjeee ..." The tribe hooted and hollered, then they all bent him over and fucked him in the ass.

Finally, it was the Marine's turn. Marines are pretty brave, "Death Before Dishonor" and all that. So when the chief asked the Marine what he preferred, the Marine puffed out his chest and growled, "Death!" And the tribe just went freaking apeshit: pounding drums, waving torches, just nuts. The chief raised his spear, quieting the tribe and said ...

DEATH BY BUNJI-BUNJI!

You might think that now that Doug 'the Centrifuge' Logan has not-so-dearly departed MLs's mortal coil, that new commish Don 'Shemp' Garber -- he of the "... I need to spend as much time as I can getting as broad an understanding of the soccer world so that I can be confident with the game and lead it in this country appropriately" quote (TotW, 8/14/99) -- would be spending as much as time as he could at MLs offices in New York. That what time he didn't spend in New York would be spent in the field, visiting MLs teams training; shmoozing MLs sponsors; making face at USSF and before the poobahs of neighboring federations; mixing with the hoi polloi; reading soccer publications by the bushel; and actually attending the odd match or two. Ah, I see hope springs eternal. Unbridled optimism is actually kind of cute, though also a sign of ignorance and inexperience. Well, the flower has wilted, shrivelled and died before spring is even over. Seems Shemp doesn't really take over until September 1, and has been spending the last month -- a very critical month in MLs's future -- splitting his time between MLs and his old job running the World League of American Football (The WLAF, or "We Laff", is also known as the PTATLSIOSTPITNFL, or Players That Are Too Lame, Slow, Injured Or Stupid To Play In The NFL). Come to think of it, running the NFL equivalent of the NE Revolution. Maybe if Garber had been paying attention the Baicher-Jair fiasco wouldn't have occured. That, of course, supposes Shemp had the cojones to tell one of the sleazebags who hired him (Kraft, of course) that no, he couldn't steal from the cookie jar. For the second week running, Robert 'All My teams Suck (Even the Ones I Don't Actually Own)' Kraft is rescued from the ignominy he so richly deserves. For being too busy cleaning out his desk to do his job:

Don 'Shemp' Garber

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